Their pin-pointed bleats pierced the heavier baa-baa of their mothers.
Jean dismounted and led his horse down toward the camp, where he rather expected to see another and older Mexican, from whom he might get information.

The lad walked with him.

Down this way the plaintive uproar made by the sheep was not so loud.
"Hello there!" called Jean, cheerfully, as he approached the tent.

No answer was forthcoming.

Dropping his bridle, he went on, rather slowly, looking for some one to appear.