does most of the work. The herd- 

 ers are a ornery lot, mostly Mexican 

 trash, no decent man would take 

 such a job." 



So now I understood the preju- 

 dice. At best a herder's life repre- 

 sents long weeks alone, his only and 

 constant company sheep, sheep, silly, 

 smelly sheep. At last we left them 

 behind and the air became humanly 

 possible again. Being still in sheep 

 country we were obliged to make 

 camp where we could find water fit 

 to drink. 



A little spring in the enclosure of 

 a deserted ranch (owner driven out 

 by the sheep) had escaped pollution. 

 It was sweet by its means to recover 

 a normal appearance, and the little 

 emerald patch was as welcome to us 

 as the oasis to a desert traveller. 



The Ordinary Man was preparing 

 supper when a small red object 

 crawled, rather than walked, toward 

 us from the road, It lifted its nose 

 from the ground and evidently seeing 

 the object of its tracking, stretched 

 out on the grass, a very tired dog. 



After a time the eyes opened and 

 looked at me. 



