Over the ridge and down in the valley beyond were some more sheep. Again a small band, much smaller than those in his own district. Scott was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not stop to think how his abrupt question would sound to the strange herder. “How many sheep are there in that bunch?” he asked gruffly.
“How many do you suppose?” was the sullen answer. “Think I get a permit for fifteen hundred and bring in a dozen?”
The sarcastic answer brought Scott to his senses. “I did not mean it that way,” he said. “I don’t know anything about sheep and I am trying to learn to estimate them. I was so busy trying to figure it out for myself that I forgot my manners. I had it figured out that there were eighteen hundred there.”
“Not on your life,” replied the herder angrily, “I only had fourteen ninety-eight when I got up here and the coyotes have gotten two more. There’s just fourteen ninety-six and if you demand a recount I’ll make you pay for it.”
“I have nothing to do with it,” Scott replied. “I don’t belong in this district. As I told you I am only trying to guess the size of bands.”
“Come from district one?” the herder asked, suddenly interested.
Scott nodded.
“Didn’t know they even tried to estimate them over there,” the herder grinned.
“Maybe they didn’t last year,” Scott replied coldly as he turned away, “but believe me they are going to be estimated this year and then some.”
He knew now that the bands in his own district were outrageously padded, but how under the sun did they get in there? He was doggedly turning the question over in his mind when a faint nicker from Jed warned him that another horse was in sight. He glanced up and saw another patrolman riding rapidly toward him. He was a fine looking fellow and Scott considered himself lucky to meet him. Here was where he might pick up some information which would help him.