e same for Quien Sabe."

It was this man Christian, the real estate broker, and cousin of S.
Behrman, one of the main actors in the drama of Dyke's capture, who
had come forward as a purchaser of Los Muertos when the Railroad had
regraded its holdings on the ranches around Bonneville.

"He claims, of course," Phelps went on, "that when he bought Los Muertos
of the Railroad he was guaranteed possession, and he wants the place in
time for the harvest."

"That's almost as thin," muttered Harran as he thrust the bit into his
horse's mouth, "as Delaney buying Annixter's Home ranch. That slice
of Quien Sabe, according to the Railroad's grading, is worth about ten
thousand dollars; yes, even fifteen, and I don't believe Delaney is
worth the price of a good horse. Why, those people don't even try to
preserve appearances. Where would Christian find the money to buy Los
Muertos? There's no one man in all Bonneville rich enough to do it.
Damned rascals! as if we didn't see that Christian and Delaney are
S. Behrman's right and left hands. Well, he'll get 'em cut off," he
cried with sudden fierceness, "if he comes too near the machine."

"How is it, Harran," asked Presley as the two young men rode out of the
stable yard, "how is it the Railroad gang can do anything before the
Supreme Court hands down a decision?"

"Well, you know how they talk," growled Harran. "They have claimed that
the cases taken up to the Supreme Court were not test cases as WE claim
they ARE, and that because neither Annixter nor the Governor appealed,
they've lost their cases by default. It's the rottenest kind of sharp
practice, but it won't do any good. The League is too strong. They won't
dare move on us yet awhile. Why, Pres, the moment they'd try to jump
any of these ranches around here, they would have six hundred rifles
cracking at them as quick as how-do-you-do. Why, it would take a
regiment of U. S. soldiers to put any one of us off our land. No, sir;
they know the League means business this time."

As Presley and Harran trotted on along the county road they continually
passed or overtook other horsemen, or buggies, carry-alls, buck-boards
or even farm wagons, going in the same direction. These were full of the
farming people from all the country round about Bonneville, on their way
to the rabbit drive--the same people seen at the barn-dance--in their
Sunday finest, the girls in muslin frocks and garden hats, the men with
linen dusters over the