He knew what that
was; he had seen the two-legged ones make it near the ranch of evil
smells and memories, so feared it not. He swung along from ledge to
ledge in silence and in haste, for the smell of sheep grew stronger at
every stride, and when he reached a place above the fire he blinked
his eyes to find the sheep. The smell was strong now; it was rank, but
no sheep to be seen. Instead he saw in the valley a stretch of gray
water that seemed to reflect the stars, and yet they neither twinkled
nor rippled; there was a murmuring sound from the sheet, but it seemed
not at all like that of the lakes around.
[Illustration: The Herd of Eyes]
The stars were clustered chiefly near the fire, and were less like
stars than spots of the phosphorescent wood that are scattered on the
ground when one knocks a rotten stump about to lick up its swarms of
wood-ants. So Jack came closer, and at last so close that even his
dull eyes could see. The great gray lake was a flock of sheep and the
phosphorescent specks were their eyes. Close by the fire was a log or
a low rough bank--that turned out to be the shepherd and his dog. Both
were objectionable features, but the sheep extended far from them.
Jack knew that his business was with the flock.
He came very close to the edge and found them surrounded by a low
hedge of chaparral; but what little things they were compared with
that great and terrible ram that he dimly remembered! The blood-thirst
came on him.
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