"The United States Government missed by two hours last night the biggest round-up of egret shooters ever made. Garman tried a gang of pugs first, and you cleaned them out. Then he yanked his egret shooters out of the rookery and put them on the job. It was the first time in two years' work that I'd known 'em to be in a bunch. I got fifty government men assembled at Citrus Grove for a round-up; but the crooks down here got word of it somehow and streaked it into the cypress swamp. We've got the rookery, got twenty good men hidden there; they'll never shoot there again; and the rest of the men are after the gang in the cypress swamp. We lost out last night; but I think Garman's egret graft is broken up for good." "Garman? Is he in that, too?" Davis smiled. "Payne, do you know anything round here that Garman isn't in? He's boss of the egret graft down here." "Have you got evidence of that?" "I'll say we have. A photograph of him trying out the gas gun he invented on a bunch of nests." "Then why don't you get him if he's the head of the gang--first of all?" Davis' lips came together in a bitter line. "Did you ever hear of a big man--one of the really big ones of the country--being got for anything? No; the other big men, the whole gang of them up in Washington, won't let it be done. They can't afford to, as a matter of self-protection." "Great Scott! Garman isn't so big that the Government is afraid of him?" "How much do you know about Garman, Payne?" "Not much, I admit." "I'll give you his number: He has among a lot of other things, a home in Washington, an office in Jacksonville and the house here and the Egret. When he is at home in Washington, some of the most powerful statesmen in this great nation regularly infest his house to prove what truly great poker players they are. No statesmen ever lost any money there, for only those whom Garman can use and who will listen to business reason are invited. No statesman accepts a vulgar bribe, but several who attend Garman's stags win heavily and consistently at poker. "At Jacksonville, in his suite of offices, there is one door without a name on it, and that is Mr. Garman's private office. "On his boat, the Egret, he has as his guests during the tourist season some of the most prominent people of the country. "When the season is over, or before it is on, he has no guests down here. That is his vacation time, the time when Garman plays. "There are more criminal refugees in the wilds of this swamp country than anywhere else in this land. There is no man in Garman's employ, white, black or red, who hasn't got a price on his head somewhere. There are bandits from Cuba, crooks from large cities, negroes escaped from chain gangs, men of unspeakable crimes, the most vicious men of mixed blood ever gathered together since the old pirate days; and these are Garman's playfellows of his vacation time. He is absolutely their boss.