Scott Burton on the Range

by Edward G. Cheyney

Heth answered the question. “Sure we can get them in here. We put twenty five hundred in the other pen and this one is a little larger.”

So they already had another cañon fenced and filled. And Heth was in charge of the work. There was no longer any question of how the sheep got into the forest. Heth had let them in. Slowly Scott began to piece together the evidence. How did they know that Heth and not himself was going to count those sheep? Then he remembered how Heth had delayed things that morning and how relieved he had seemed when the telephone rang reporting the fire. And Heth had sent him on the wrong trail purposely, so that he would have time to get in all the sheep and have them well away from the chute before Scott could get back.

There his train of evidence broke for a second. Who else was in the game? How did Heth know that fire would be so promptly reported? Then he recalled that it was one of Jed Clark’s men whom Baxter had caught setting an apparently purposeless fire on that very morning. He himself had seen the traces of it. It was certainly a deep laid plot. He saw now how the cards had been stacked against him by a cunning hand and he knew now why he had taken such a violent dislike to Heth.

He wondered if his hunch to distrust Dawson was as reliable. There was certainly no evidence against him as yet. The fire had been reported to him honestly enough by the lookout and he had simply given the necessary orders. It was perfectly natural that he should have sent Scott to look after the fire and left a sheep man to look after the sheep. Moreover, Dawson was in charge of Baxter’s district also. There never had been any trouble over there and Baxter thought he was all right. The ranger also stood very high in the judgment of the supervisor, who had had years of opportunity to size him up. No, he must have been mistaken about Dawson, but he chuckled to think how well he had judged Heth.

These discoveries did not make him like Heth any better but he certainly admired his nerve. How did he know that Dawson or some of the others would not drop in there to inspect the counting of the sheep? Yes, it had certainly taken plenty of nerve and Heth seemed to have it.

In the meanwhile, the fence building was progressing rapidly. When they came to the side of the cañon for posts or brush Scott caught an occasional remark, but the work kept them out too far most of the time. From what little he did hear he knew that they considered their plan a big success and a tremendous joke on the greenhorn patrolman from the East.

At last the fence was completed all except a narrow opening which was to serve as a gate. There was nothing more to do but drive in the sheep. The herders looked with satisfaction on their work and rested from their exertion while Heth gave the fence a final inspection. He pronounced it good and ordered them to bring in the sheep. Scott was wondering what had become of the horse he had been trailing when Heth led him out of a clump of aspen near the bottom of the cañon. He passed almost directly under Scott and a herder who had come over there to get a coat which he had laid aside called to him, “Where is the greenhorn now, Dugan?”

Scott started at that name addressed directly to Heth. He had heard them speak to Dugan before and he had heard Heth answer to it, but he had thought that Heth was simply volunteering an answer to a question addressed to another man. Now there could be no question about it; there was no one else there. Even the man’s name was a fake. No wonder Baxter had never heard of him.

Scott itched to jump down there on them and show them where he was, but he realized now that it would be neither safe nor politic. He must let this thing go till he had counted the sheep out through the chute. Then would be the time to disclose his discovery. He could not prove anything now. He had no witnesses to what he had heard and there was no regulation to prevent the herders from penning some of their sheep up in the mouth of the cañon if they wanted to do so. He must wait.

Dugan’s answer made him chuckle. “He’s over getting some pointers from Baxter on estimating bands of sheep.”