“Hello,” Scott called in friendly tone as the other came alongside. A nod was the only answer.
“My name is Burton,” Scott continued, “I am patrolman in district number one.”
“I thought so,” said the other without responding to the introduction.
Scott hesitated for a moment but decided to overlook the insult. It might be simply lack of manners. He had offended another man a few minutes before without intending to; maybe this man did not mean it either. So Scott went on, “I rode over here this morning to size up the bands in this district and I was just looking for some one to give me some information.” He paused but the other man did not answer.
“Can you tell me why the bands in this district are so much smaller than ours?”
“You ought to know more about that than I do,” said the other man coldly.
“How’s that?” Scott asked.
“Well,” said the other with a contemptuous sneer, “we count ours.”
“And we counted ours in yesterday,” replied Scott, beginning to get angry at the other’s manner.
“Then I suggest that you look in your bank book. That is the only other explanation I can think of.”