The Story of Wool Part 4

CHAPTER III

THE DIPPING

It was a great surprise to Tom Thornton when Mr. Clark informed him that he wanted the men to start in dipping the sheep as soon as they could get ready.

"I suppose, Thornton, you have everything in readiness for the work,"

continued the owner casually.

Thornton did not hesitate.

"Yes, indeed, sir. We can start right in to-day if you wish. It is for you to say. But really, Mr. Clark, the flock hardly needs it. Our sheep are in prime condition."

"That's all the more reason for keeping them so, Thornton," was the smiling reply.

"Of course that is true, sir. Very well. We will go ahead. I think I shall have time to give the orders, although I have got to be in Glen City about ten days s.h.i.+pping the clip."

"What?"

"s.h.i.+pping the wool, sir."

"Oh, yes."

"I can start the work before I go."

"I don't think you need bother, Thornton," remarked Mr. Clark slowly.

"You go on down to Glen City and finish up your business there."

"But somebody must see to the dipping if you really want it done."

"I'll attend to it."

"You!"

"Why not?"

"Why--why--nothing, sir. I beg your pardon. Only I thought you might be too tired after your trip."

"Oh, no. I am not tired at all."

Thornton eyed him.

Even Donald was astonished.

Mr. Clark did not seem to be at all disturbed by the embarra.s.sing stillness, but went on shaving down a stick he was whittling.

"I do not mean to manage the dipping myself," he explained at last. "I shall let Sandy McCulloch take charge of it."

"Sandy McCulloch! Why, sir, that boy could never do it in the world! He is a good lad--well enough in his way--but not very smart. Not at all like his father."

"Well, if he has no ability I shall soon find it out. I mean to try him, anyway."

"Oh, you can try him if you like, but I know the fellow better than you do. You are foolish to turn any big work over to him. He can't handle it."

"I intend to give him the chance."

Thornton's annoyance began to get beyond his control.

"Very well. It is not my business," he snapped as he left the room.

The instant he was gone Donald, who could not keep silent another moment, cried:

"Oh, father! I am so glad you are going to let Sandy manage the dipping!"

"It is an experiment, Don. Sandy is young and he may make a mess of things--not because he does not mean well, but because he lacks experience. He has been here a long time, to be sure, but he never has taken any care beyond watching his own flocks."

"I do not think he will fail. The men will all help him. They like him."

"I can see that."

"And I like him too, father."

"So do I, son. I am trusting him with this work not only because I like him but because I feel sure that the son of such a father cannot go far astray. It was a great surprise to me when I found Sandy was the son of Old Angus. You see we all thought so much of the old Scotchman that he was Old Angus to everybody. I had almost forgotten he had another name.

I don't think I ever heard any one call him Angus McCulloch in my life.

And yet I remember the name now, for I can recall seeing it written out on checks and letters."

"It is a fine name," Donald declared.

"Sandy comes of good stock. I want to help him all I can. If he has the right stuff in him perhaps we can give him a lift. I wish we might, for I feel we owe his father more than we ever can repay."

It was great news to Sandy when he learned that not only was he to dip his own flock, but that into his hands was to be put the dipping of the entire herd.

"I'm no so sure I can manage it, Mr. Clark," he said modestly, lapsing, as he often did, into his broad Scotch. "I'll do the best I can though, sir."

"I am sure you will."

And Sandy did do his best!

The hot dip, with the proper proportions of lime and sulphur, was prepared, and Sandy tested its temperature by seeing if he could bear his hand in it. Then the long cement troughs were filled. These troughs were just wide enough so the sheep were not able to turn. Groups of sheep that had been driven from the larger enclosures to the small pens near the dipping troughs were then hurried, one by one, to the men standing at the head of the troughs; it was the duty of these men to push each sheep in turn down the smooth metal incline into the dip. The sheep slipped in easily. As they swam along through the steaming bath other men were posted midway and when a sheep pa.s.sed they thrust the head twice under water with their crooks so that the eyes and heads--as well as the bodies--might be cleansed. At the far end of the troughs still other herders helped the bedraggled creatures out onto a draining platform where they dripped for a time and were afterward driven back into their pens.

"I shouldn't think the sheep would ever dry!" Donald remarked to Sandy as they watched the process.

"Oh, they do; only it takes a couple of days--and sometimes more before their wool is thoroughly dry," answered the Scotchman.

Donald looked on, fascinated.

The work proceeded without a hitch.