Patty nodded wearily. She was gamely trying to appear disinterested. "Did you want to file?" asked the man, whirling a large book about, and pushing it toward her. "Just enter your description there, an' fill out the application fer a patent, an' file your field notes, and plat." The girl's glance strayed listlessly over the adjoining page, her eyes mechanically taking in the words. Suddenly, she became intensely alert. She leaned over the book and reread with feverish interest the written description. The location was filed in Vil Holland's name--but, _the description was not of her claim_! "Where--where is this claim?" she gasped. The old register turned the book and very deliberately proceeded to read the description. In her nervous excitement Patty felt that she must scream, and her fingers clutched the counter edge until the knuckles whitened. Finally the man looked up. "That must be somewheres over on the Blackfoot side," he announced. "Must be Vil's figuring on pulling over there. Too bad we won't be seeing him much no more." He swung the book back, as the import of his words dawned upon the girl she leaned weakly against the counter. "Ain't you feeling well?" asked the old man, eying her with concern. Without hearing him Patty picked up the pen, and as she wrote, her hand trembled so that she could scarcely form the letters. At last it was done, and the register once again swung the book and read the freshly penned words. "Well, I'll be darned!" he exclaimed, when he had finished. The blood had rushed back into the girl's face and she was regarding him with shining eyes. "What's the matter? Isn't it right? Because if it isn't you can show me how to do it, and I'll fix it." "Oh it's right--all right." He was eying her quizzically. "Only it's blamed funny. That there's the claim Vil Holland just relinquished." "_Just relinquished!_" gasped the girl, reaching out and shaking the old man's sleeve in her excitement. "What do you mean? Tell me!" "Mean just what I said--here's the entry." "Vil--Holland--just--relinquished," she repeated, in a dazed voice. "When did he file it?" "I don't recollect--it was back in the winter, or spring." The man began to turn the pages slowly backward. "Here it is, March, the thirteenth." "Why, that was before I came out here!" "How?" "Why did he relinquish?" The words rushed eagerly from her lips, and she awaited breathless, for the answer. "It wasn't no good, I guess, or he found a better one--that's most generally why they relinquish." "No good! Found a better one!" From the chaos of conflicting ideas the girl's thoughts began to take definite form. "The stakes in the ground were _his_ stakes. Her father had never staked--would never have staked until ready to file."