—especially the sheep. I was with her all day, but we didn't find a trace of them."
"That's what I've come over about," Rawlins said, the shake of a laugh in his words.
"Have you seen him?"
"I left him not an hour ago. He's over there with me."
"Peck?"
"Sure enough. Peck, sheep, dog, and all."
"Peck, of all men! Taking a band of sheep into that country—Peck!"
"To Peck, and nobody else, the honor belongs. Well, the sheep must be given some credit for initiating the movement, I must admit. Peck says they ran away from him, or with him, and came to the hole in the wire, when he shot 'em through and headed for my place. He'd spotted it from the hills."
"Peck! And he's in there?"
"He seems to be easy, and very much at home. He says he'd rather fight men every day than face his wife once in a while. He's got a gun a yard long hanging on him."
"Peck?"
"The surest thing you know. He says he can hit things with it sometimes, and I believe him so well I'd want to be back of something thick when he turns it loose."
"It knocks me cold!" said Edith, backing up against the fence for support. Then that irrepressible spirit of laughter laid hold of her. She jerked off her hat, slapped her thigh with it, doubled over and whooped.
"It's no laughing matter, young lady," he said, with
