THE POCKET HUNTER 



after dark, and heard the heavy breathing 

 of the flock. He said that if he thought at 

 all at this juncture he must have thought 

 that he had stumbled on a storm-belated 

 shepherd with his silly sheep ; but in fact 

 he took no note of anything but the warmth 

 of packed fleeces, and snuggled in be- 

 tween them dead with sleep. If the flock 

 stirred in the night he stirred drowsily to 

 keep close and let the storm go by. That 

 was all until morning woke him shining 

 on a white world. Then the very soul of 

 him shook to see the wild sheep of God 

 stand up about him, nodding their great 

 horns beneath the cedar roof, looking out 

 on the wonder of the snow. They had 

 moved a little away from him with the 

 coming of the light, but paid him no more 

 heed. The light broadened and the white 

 pavilions of the snow swam in the hea- 

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