"Sure," answered the bogus government agent heartily, "I can see right where you made your mistake. How could you know that, in the years that followed your nephew's discovery, the claim was located again by McGurvin, there? When did you locate it, Mac?" he asked, turning on the rancher. "Night onto two year ago," asserted McGurvin solemnly. "There you are!" exclaimed Heppner triumphantly. "McGurvin has done the assessment work, so it belonged to him. And you jumped it. State's prison offense, professor." The professor shuddered. "I didn't intend to do any wrong," he answered. "Ignorance of the law," expounded Heppner, "excuses no one. Still, speaking personal, I'm here to let you off light. You've had a lot of trouble in this matter, and McGurvin is willing to give you a hundred dollars for that. You will have to sign a quitclaim deed, though, so as to clear up the title. I call that," beamed Heppner, "mighty generous." "A heap more'n I ort ter do," said McGurvin, in a burst of frankness. "More'n I'd do, Mac," said one of the two others. "Ye know, Sam," whimpered the rancher, "I allers was troubled with enlargement of the heart, I reckon, someday, it'll be the ruination o' me. Ain't that so, Turkeyfoot?" "Not as nobody can notice," replied the other bystander. "All I wants is to see the perfesser git his rights. I was totin' his stuff ter town, an' I'm in his pay. I stick fer the hunderd, an' you can whine all ye darn please." "Mr. Turkeyfoot," said the professor, casting a grateful look at that noble gentleman, "I shall never forget your loyalty and kindness to me. If you insist, I will accept the hundred dollars, and sign this quit claim. All I want is to do what is right. _Otium oum dignitate_, that is my motto, and what I am seeking. Such matters as this, in which I have unwittingly erred, distress me greatly." Heppner had pulled a paper and a fountain pen from his pocket. "There ain't no odium attached to this move, professor," he said reassuringly. "You have done wrong, but you are doing your best to make amends." He got up and handed the pen to the professor, and then opened out the paper. "Sign there," said he. "Mac," he added, "have your hundred dollars ready." McGurvin went down into his trousers, fished up a roll of bills, and held it in his hand, eying it hungrily. The professor, hunting for a place on which to write, stood up and laid the paper against the wall of the house. Merry was astounded to think that Borrodaile should prove so lacking in ordinary understanding as to take the words of that gang of tricksters in such a matter. But he was child, so far as business affairs were concerned. It was easy to make him believe anything, so long as his particular field of knowledge was not intruded upon. Something had to be done, and Merry was not long in doing it. A bold move was necessary. If Heppner ever got that signed quitclaim deed in his hands, the transaction would be badly complicated.