Charley Many Rivers stalked into camp and threw his long stick down beside the wagon. The old herder, busy with the fire, spoke without looking up. “Supper won’t be ready for a while yet.”

“You stink like sheep,” the half-breed replied, pulling his shirt over his head after undoing the top two buttons. “Aah! I stink like sheep!” He threw the shirt against the wagon, pulled off his pants and threw them also. He wore no underwear. “These goddamn sheep stink like sheep!” Waving his arms, he ran toward the sheep, which were grazing along the creek bottom, slightly downhill from the knoll on which the camp sat.