“How much is this ‘free use’ going to cost this year,” the man asked sarcastically.
“Cost?” Scott exclaimed in surprise.
“I think that is what I said,” the man drawled, “Cost.”
“First time I ever heard of a free use permit costing anything,” Scott retorted. The man’s ugly manner and a feeling that he was being guyed angered Scott.
“Cost me a dollar a head, last year,” the man persisted with an ugly sneer.
“How did that happen?” Scott asked a little doubtfully. He was almost sure that he would get a “joshing” answer of some kind to this question and he did not feel in the humor to take it.
“’Cause that’s what that robber patrolman demanded,” the man exploded. “Think I offered it to him voluntarily?”
“I don’t see why you should pay a patrolman for a free use permit either voluntarily or any other way,” Scott retorted.
“Hicks over here on the next ranch could not see it either,” Simpson replied, “and all his sheep died of the loco weed.”
“Do you mean to say that the patrolman poisoned them?” Scott exclaimed in horror.