“How long have you been on the job?” Baxter asked between bites.

“About a week now,” Scott replied. “Oh, sure,” Baxter exclaimed, “I knew that. Of course we all heard how you bought and rode Jed Clark’s horse. He certainly is a beauty. Have you had any trouble with him?”

“No,” Scott said, “no real trouble. He ran away with me the other day when a mountain lion got on our trail, but he only took me home a little faster than I intended to go. There does not seem to be a mean trait about him.”

“He killed the first man who tried to ride him,” Baxter explained. “That gave him the name of an outlaw and kept any one else from trying him. He probably never was mean and only killed the fellow by accident. You were certainly lucky to get him.”

And so they talked of little things of purely personal interest, really getting acquainted with each other while they ate their little packages of lunch.

“Now,” Baxter exclaimed with a comfortable sigh as he stretched flat on his back and gazed out across the valley, “let’s have your trouble.”

“Well,” Scott began thoughtfully, “I might as well begin at the beginning and tell you the whole story. Then you can judge for yourself. I have mighty little definite to go on and I am too green to understand that.”

“Must be something pretty rotten if a greenhorn got on to it in a week,” Baxter commented.

“Of course,” Scott continued, “the super explained the trouble they had in that patrol district and said he hoped to break it up by getting in a complete stranger from another part of the country. As I did not know anything about sheep they gave me a guard who is an expert, but as I understand it they hold me responsible for keeping the bands down to the number allowed in the permits.”

“Who is that guard?” Baxter interrupted.

“His name is Heth.”

“Never heard of him.”

“I don’t like his looks,” Scott said, “but I don’t really know anything against him. Well, I ran onto the first signs when I went down to visit the small ranchers and find out about the free use stock. Every one of them wanted to know how much it was going to cost him this year, almost dropped dead when I said ‘nothing,’ and then went with me to the next place to see if I told the same story there. I had quite an escort by the time I got to the last place and they had a regular celebration.”

“Of course that was a hang over from last year and has nothing to do with this year’s work,” Baxter explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Scott replied, “but it helps to show you the way I have been worried. The next morning I was to count in the sheep. Just as I was starting out the ranger ’phoned that the lookout had reported a fire on this edge of the district and ordered me out on it because I did not know enough to count the sheep alone. Heth told me the wrong trail and I was more than half a day getting there. When I finally got to the top of that peak over there I could not see the faintest trace of a fire.”

“There was one, though,” said Baxter with sudden interest, “for I happened to be down this way and put it out. I know who set it, too. It was one of Jed Clark’s herders. He said he wanted to burn up the brush so that it would not be in the way of the sheep. Of course I knew that was a fake, but I could not find out why he really did do it, and I could not do anything to him because he had taken great care to keep it from spreading.”

“I saw the ashes down there this morning,” Scott explained, “and could not figure it out. I did not get back to the cabin till late, all the sheep were in, and Heth was not there. So I decided to come out this morning to see what a band of sheep really looked like and see how they handled them. I visited three or four of them and they looked awfully big to me. I tried to count them, but could not do it. Then I came on over here to see what these bands were like. I have seen a couple of them and they do not look over half as large as mine.”

“Is that so?” exclaimed Baxter sitting up.

“Now,” Scott concluded, “what I want to know is, how can I tell whether they are really too large? Of course I can order them back for a recount but I want to be pretty sure that I am right before I do that.”

“I’ll go over with you and have a look,” Baxter said, evidently enjoying the prospect. The graft in the neighboring district had always been a source of annoyance and he was glad of the chance to help clean it up. The whole forest considered it a disgrace and a stain on their reputation.

They mounted and rode away together like old friends. Baxter could not keep his eyes off of Jed. “To think,” he exclaimed, “that I have been living in the country with that horse for two years and did not have the sense or the nerve to buy him. If you ever miss him you better look in my stable first thing.”

It was only a few minutes till they came to one of the bands which Scott had seen in the morning. They were spread out evenly on an open slope and feeding peacefully.

“Now have a good look at that band,” Baxter said, “there are sixteen hundred of them. No use trying to count them in the open. It can’t be done. You just have to size up a band you know and then compare it with others. It takes a good deal of experience to guess them at all accurately.”

“Couldn’t a fellow separate them into small groups and count them that way?” Scott asked.

“Ever try it?” Baxter grinned.

“No,” Scott replied, “I had never seen more than twenty sheep in one bunch till I came here.”

“Well, don’t suggest it to a sheep man if you want to look wise. You might as well try to separate a bunch of quicksilver with a pin point. Where the leader goes they all go. You can’t separate them.”

A little farther on they came to another band. “How many there?” Baxter asked drawing rein on a little knoll above them.

Scott sized them up carefully. They were bunched a little closer than the others and it was hard to judge. “Don’t look like quite so many,” he ventured a little doubtfully.

“Good,” Baxter exclaimed encouragingly, “fourteen hundred. Now for a look at yours.”

They rode briskly and Scott whiled away the time with an account of his encounter with the cowboy who tried to steal his horse.

“Jed probably sent him,” Baxter said. “I tell you that old scoundrel will do you if he can, and if you throw out any of his sheep he will go to any length to get even.”

“They are going out all right,” Scott replied firmly, “if I can find any more than the limit. I have a little grudge of my own to even up.”

They topped a low ridge overlooking a small plateau and Baxter stopped in sudden amazement. ............