"Lord, no! If the dad sits tight till we prove up entry, he's to get three-hundred! No fear of his blabbing. He can't speak a word of English; and when I told the woman, through the interpreter that we pay their fare out and each of the kids would get a five, why, she kissed my hand and slobbered gratitude all over me." "Wayland won't be quite so grateful for that bunch." "Oh, I didn't file that batch in the N. F. You bet, that's a little too obvious! I put 'em in the Pass, lower end of the Pass, not by a damn sight, I didn't put 'em in the N. F.! I thought Smelter people wanted us to secure that Pass for a dam; and I bunched 'em all in just above the Sheriff's place!" "That's good! The Sheriff proves up this year; and if you get this bunch in behind, that corks the Pass up pretty effectually! Where are the bounds of the Forest there?" Bat drew his fore-finger along the map. "Along the red line, here: just to the trail through the canyon." "Good: now what about the timber claim along the Gully? That's in the Forests, Brydges. I want to force a contest on that; the Swede fellow has cut the logs under his permit; but I'd like to make that doubly sure before we go to trial. If we can get a double cinch on that, we'll knock the claim of the Forestry Department to keep homesteaders out into a cocked hat." Bat's sleepy eyes emitted sparks and his good natured smile widened to an open grin. "The Swede happened to use a U. S. Forest hatchet when he cut those logs," he said. "I told him to be sure and stamp the butt end of each log U. S., duly inspected," he said. Moyese dropped the map and the pencil and his heavy hand with a thud on the desk and laughed noiselessly down into the creases of his fat double chin and into the wrinkling rotundity of his white vest. "And to cinch it," continued Brydges, "as the fellow's permit didn't cover the Gully, I got some blanket railway scrip for an Irishman, O'Finnigan, Shanty Town, and planked it on the Gully. You see, Senator, by law the settlers _can_ go in on the National Forests wherever it has been surveyed and declared agricultural land; but they can't go in and get title till it is surveyed and passed. But you can plaster the railway scrip _where it is unsurveyed_. That's the little joker somebody tucked in when the scrip railway act was passed. I guess by the time they have red-taped and trapesed round and wrangled those two tangles of title out, the logs will be safe down the River; and I guess that will about see the finish of Wayland before the coal cases come up--"