“Can’t hear much this close to that bunch,” the herder replied nodding toward the passing sheep.
“No,” Scott said, “I thought I would count them as they went past but I had to give it up.”
“I reckon so,” nodded the herder. There still seemed to be quite a twinkle in his eye.
“They are a fine looking lot,” Scott remarked, “How many are there in your band?”
“They counted sixteen hundred and ten in the chute yesterday,” announced the herder with an amiable grin.
Scott knew that his permit called for sixteen hundred and the ten extra would not be excluded. The rear of the band was just going by in the charge of a faithful collie.
“Seems like a lot of sheep,” Scott remarked absently.
“That’s what the permit calls for, ain’t it?” the herder cried fiercely. “A government man counted them in, didn’t he?”
Scott was surprised at the man’s sudden heat. “I guess he did,” he answered in a conciliatory tone. “I simply remarked that sixteen hundred was a lot of sheep.”
“You can remark all you please but don’t accuse me of running in extras. I’ve got the permit right here in my pocket.”