“Yes, and I’ll have some damages coming when we are through,” Jed growled. “I’m not going to have my sheep driven all over the country for nothing.”
The herders all looked so happy that the supervisor became worried. “Looks as though they had slipped you some way,” he whispered to Scott.
Scott only smiled and replied, “We’ll see.”
The first band counted five under the permit, the second band sixteen under and the third twelve. The worried look deepened on the supervisor’s face and Jed was growling louder and louder. Every one was rubbing it into Scott but he only grinned and waited.
The last sheep of the last band was counted and they had all come well within the limit. Mr. Ramsey turned to Scott and that hard, steely look was in his eye. Scott caught Dawson’s wink at Jed.
“Where are your extras?” Ramsey asked severely.
“We’ll go count them now,” Scott said. He tried to speak calmly but a note of triumph stole into his voice in spite of himself. He noticed a decided look of dismay on Jed’s face, but Dawson’s showed no sign. Scott led his horse out of the brush.
“Where are you taking us now?” the supervisor asked coldly before he made a move to mount.
“Down where the sheep are,” Scott retorted a little nettled, “they are not likely to bring them up here.”
They all mounted and Scott led them up the trail in silence. He could have taken them directly along the bench at the edge of the cliff, but he preferred to go around by the ridge trail and keep them in suspense. He saw that the supervisor thought that he was bluffing. The farther they went along the ridge trail the more relieved Jed Clark looked, but when they turned short off the trail to the south his spirits dropped once more.