And I regret to say that when the flock was reached, the gallop did not end.
The men rode straight through that bleating, panic-stricken mass, on the edge of which two hysterical collies vainly tried to exert control of their charges.

The cattlemen were looking for the shepherd.
Some distance beyond the flock, or where the flock had been, for the sheep were now rushing across the plain, was a two-horse, canvas-topped wagon, with a stove-pipe protruding through the top at the back.

For your sheepherder does not sleep on the ground like the cowboy, but prefers a sheltering wagon.

When the men reached this shelter, there was no one in sight.

As they reined in, one of the leaders called, "Come out of there, you black-hearted dog!" There was no response.