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 imported him last fall; he cost me seven hundred dollars put down at Jasper."

Edith had been standing off a little way beside the corral gate while they talked, as if she had no interest at all in the sheep, sick or well. She was pensive and preoccupied; Rawlins wondered what her thoughts might be. Perhaps she was tired of that place; longing to be away among people and scenes she had known, her heart wandering off up the wagon trail that came down the other side of the creek, upon which her eyes were fixed.

Three horses were sunning themselves dreamily in a corral; a few hens wallowed like indolent odalisques in the warm grey dust. These, with the sheep, were the only creatures about the place. In the sheeplands fashion, such milk as was used on that ranch came out of a tin, along with many other necessities and delicacies of the table.

Whether she owned a thousand or ten thousand sheep, Mrs. Duke did not say. She was silent likewise on the number of men she employed, and whether she gained or lost in the business. Yes, she said, in reply to Rawlins' question, she guessed a man could do right well if he had a ranch he could irrigate and grow alfalfa to sell to the sheepmen around there. It took a farmer to do that, not a sheepman. Sheepmen were against farming. It cut up the range.

Fine place, fine location, fine breed of sheep, said Rawlins, looking around approvingly. How long had she been there? Longer than she cared to tell, Mrs. Duke replied, considering that it might give away her age. She laughed it off, turning the talk to something