“Why not ask the herder?” Scott suggested.
“Because he’ll lie like a trooper, and besides we don’t want to arouse any suspicions yet a while.”
They visited all the bands in the district one after the other and Baxter estimated that each one was carrying from five hundred to twelve hundred more than the permit called for. When they had finished the last examination it was beginning to get dark. The two sat their horses for a moment in silence.
“What’s the next move?” Scott asked.
“Wonder how they got in?” Baxter queried.
“I am not so much interested in that right now,” Scott answered “as how to get them out.”
“Well, if I were you I should first call up Dawson, tell him that you have looked over the sheep, feel sure that there are a large number of extras and suggest a recount. Then it will be up to him.”
“You don’t think he has been mixed up in this graft in any way?” Scott asked.
“Who, Dawson? Oh, I hardly think that likely. He is considered one of the best rangers on the forest, has always been very strict in our district and is thoroughly disgusted with the black eye this district has always given the forest. What makes you think he is in it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Scott answered uncertainly. “Maybe it is only a hunch, but I have not liked his manner toward me.”