He lifted its head above
the dip. The sheep showed no sign of life. Down on his knees dropped Glenn,
to reach the sheep with strong brown hands, and to haul it up on the
ground, where it flopped inert. Glenn pummeled it and pressed it, and
worked on it much as Carley had seen a life-guard work over a half-drowned
man. But the sheep did not respond to Glenn's active administrations.
"No use, Glenn," yelled Hutter, hoarsely. "That one's a goner."
Carley did not fail to note the state of Glenn's hands and arms and
overalls when he returned to the ditch work. Then back and forth Carley's
gaze went from one end to the other of that scene. And suddenly it was
arrested and held by the huge fellow who handled the sheep so brutally.
Every time he dragged one and threw it into the pit he yelled: "Ho! Ho!"
Carley was impelled to look at his face, and she was amazed to meet the
rawest and boldest stare from evil eyes that had ever been her misfortune
to incite. She felt herself stiffen with a shock that was unfamiliar. This
man was scarcely many years older than Glenn, yet he had grizzled hair, a
seamed and scarred visage, coarse, thick lips, and beetling brows, from
under which peered gleaming light eyes.
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