Carley rather enjoyed watching them. She
surely could not see anything amiss in this sight.
The next corral held a like number of sheep, and also several Mexicans who
were evidently driving them into a narrow lane that led farther down.
Carley saw the heads of men above other corral fences, and there was also a
thick yellowish smoke rising from somewhere.
"Carley, are you game to see the dip?" asked Flo, with good nature that yet
had a touch of taunt in it.
"That's my middle name," retorted Carley, flippantly.
Both Glenn and this girl seemed to be bent upon bringing out Carley's worst
side, and they were succeeding. Flo laughed. The ready slang pleased her.
She led Carley along that log fence, through a huge open gate, and across a
wide pen to another fence, which she scaled. Carley followed her, not
particularly overanxious to look ahead. Some thick odor had begun to reach
Carley's delicate nostrils. Flo led down a short lane and climbed another
fence, and sat astride the top log. Carley hurried along to clamber up to
her side, but stood erect with her feet on the second log of the fence.
Then a horrible stench struck Carley almost like a blow in the face, and
before her confused sight there appeared to be drifting smoke and active
men and running sheep, all against a background of mud.
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