Heth had everything ready at the chute for counting in the sheep and Scott had all the permits in hand approved by the supervisor, stating just how many sheep each owner had paid for. Of course each herder knew just how many he was supposed to take in and just what range had been allotted to him. It was Scott’s job to count the sheep as they came through the chute and see that the permits were not exceeded. As the old gentleman had told Scott on the train, the arrangement was comparatively new and many of the stockmen were by no means reconciled to the forest service control. They had been running their stock free on those ranges for years and they were not going to pay for the privilege without a struggle. It was almost certain that there would be more than one attempt to exceed the limit. Mr. Ramsey had told him as much and he was anxious for the test.
At last the breakfast things were cleared away and they were ready for the start. Scott caught up a little tally register such as the headwaiters in a hotel dining room use, looked over the permits to see that he had them all and started for the corral. It was light now and time they were off.
Of course it was an old story to Heth and there was no reason why he should be excited about it, but it seemed to Scott that he was unnecessarily slow and apparently getting more nervous every minute. Just outside the cabin Heth mumbled an excuse about some forgotten article and went back. Scott, too impatient to wait for him any longer, went on down to saddle Jed.
Heth peeped out of the door to make sure that Scott was out of earshot and hurried to the telephone, but it rang before he got there. He snatched down the receiver and answered eagerly, and a look of relief came over his face when he recognized the ranger’s voice. “Hello, Heth, is Burton there?”
“Just is,” replied Heth a little irritably. “He’s already gone down to saddle up. Hold the line and I’ll call him.”
Heth shouted from the cabin door and Scott hurried up from the corral exasperated at the further delay. “Dawson’s on the line,” Heth explained.
Scott took the receiver. “Yes? Good morning, Mr. Dawson.... Fire.... Hadn’t I better send Heth over there, he knows the country better?”
Heth smiled and looked out of the window.
“Oh, very well, sir,” Scott concluded in an aggrieved tone. “I can handle it. I’ll report as soon as I get back.”
He turned from the telephone keenly disappointed and found Heth looking at him inquiringly.