"Why does he do it? Because there's money in it. How? There!" Davis reached into his grub bag and threw on the ground the limp, snow-white corpse of a beautiful egret. "That's one of the side issues. There's money in it. Garman saw the rookeries, and couldn't keep his hands off them. These snow-white birds, feeding young ones in the nest, are worth money. Garman's gang gets a living, food, liquor and immunity out of the slaughter, an average probably of one dollar a bird. Garman gets the rest. And his boat Egret in his harvest time is nothing but a damn slaughter house, the hold packed with the skins of thousands of murdered birds." "But I thought the Government had taken steps to stop the slaughter. Aren't there guards about the rookeries?" "There are. Who do you suppose got them their jobs? Garman--in Washington. How do you suppose they guard? They guard so carefully that nobody can get into the rookeries, not a soul except Garman's gang. Officially the egret shooting is stopped. Actually it is an industry and is in Garman's hands. "But there are good, progressive men down here--men who really wish to develop the country on a sound, honest basis," said Payne. "Why, don't they get after this rotten business?" "Few of them know anything about it. Garman has the business monopolized; only a few shooters, those absolutely under his control, and the birds spirited away in the Egret. All done so efficiently that few people believe there is any shooting done. Formerly the egrets were to be counted by millions, they were uncountable. They are good breeders. But since their shooting has been 'stopped' officially there hasn't been any noticeable increase in their numbers, which certainly would have been the case if the shooting actually had been done away with. "Do you know why Garman wants to bust you? Principally because your settling here and draining and developing that piece of drowned land would be the opening wedge in the settlement of the district. You've shown what can be done with this land. People would come flocking in, farmers, real settlers, not the fugitives nor the crooked real-estate men who so far have had a monopoly down here. The outlaws would have to go. Egret shooting would have stop. Garman couldn't play king here any longer. That's why he's out to bust you, Payne. Keep your eyes skinned. He'll try to smash you in a hurry now." "You are not going to try to get him then?" asked Roger slowly. "No use. We'll break up his gang and stop the egret shooting, but Garman----" Davis shrugged his shoulders. "Garman is too big!" said Roger. "He will still be cock-o'-the-walk round here. Is that it?" "Well, he won't have his gang," replied the detective. "But he will still be--Garman." "Well--you know what he is." Roger nodded. "He'll want to be boss of the district---- He'll try to hog your land." "Hog is a good word there," ruminated Roger. But he was not thinking about his land.