“I contend that one’s information on such a problem must come from personal observation and not from hearsay or opinions of others. We refuse to take circumstantial evidence, as it were. It seems that some of the natives are—well, a bit touchy on the subject. I asked a gentleman for his opinion, and he—well he——”
“How so?” I asks.
“At your city of Silver Bend I approached a man who was clad in leather trousers, and I asked him if I could get a little information from him regarding sheep. I am sure my tones were not belligerent, and I properly introduced myself before propounding the question.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He did not answer. He deliberately crushed my hat over my nose and kicked my feet from under me.”
“It is very true,” nods the other one. “I—I thought perhaps we had met up with just the character we were investigating—a mentally unbalanced sheep person. I soothed him to the best of my ability, begging him to curb his profanity. Thinking to humor him, I said—in kind tones:
“‘My dear fellow, there was no offense intended to you or your sheep. We all love the little lambs.’”
“Then what?” asks Dirty.
“Well, it may have been a coarse way of describing it, but another fellow came along after the mentally unbalanced one had stridden away, and he said—
“‘My ——, what a mess!’”