One of the men, owner of the sheep, I presume,
met us and said he would show me where to go so I could see everything
that was being done, which proved to be directly back of a man who was
shearing sheep. They told me that he was the very fastest and most
expert shearer in the whole territory. Anyone could see that he was an
expert, for three men were kept busy waiting upon him. At one corner
of the corral was a small, funnel-shaped "drive," the outer opening of
which was just large enough to squeeze a sheep through, and in the
drive stood a man, sheep in hand, ever ready to rush it straight to
the hands of the shearer the instant he was ready for it.
The shearer, who was quite a young man, sat upon a box close to the
drive, and when he received a sheep it was always the same
way--between his knees--and he commenced and finished the shearing of
each animal exactly the same way, every clip of the large shears
counting to the best advantage. They told me that he gained much time
by the unvarying precision that left no ragged strips to be trimmed
off. The docility of those wild sheep was astonishing. Almost while
the last clip was being made the sheep was seized by a second
assistant standing at the shearer's left, who at once threw the poor
thing down on its side, where he quickly painted the brand of that
particular ranch, after which it was given its freedom.
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