head of
the pond, carefully refraining, as she passed, from glancing toward Good
Indian. He felt that she expected him to follow, but he wanted first to
ask Peaceful a few questions, and to warn him not to trust Baumberger,
so he stayed where he was, sprawled upon his back with a much-abused
cushion under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that he
could see Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice.

He did not gain anything by staying, for Peaceful had little to say,
seeming to be occupied mostly with dreamy meditations. He nodded,
now and then, in response to Baumberger's rumbling monologues, and
occasionally he removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to reply
with a sentence where the nod was not sufficient. Baumberger droned on,
mostly relating the details of cases he had won against long odds--cases
for the most part similar to this claim-jumping business.

Nothing had been done that day, Grant gathered, beyond giving the eight
claimants due notice to leave. The boys were evidently dissatisfied
about something, though they said nothing. They shifted their positions
with pettish frequency, and threw away cigarettes only half smoked, and
scowled at dancing leaf-shadows on the ground.

When he could no longer endure the inaction, he rose, stretched his arms
high above his head, settled his hat into place, gave Jack a glance of
meaning, and went through the kitchen to the milk-house. He felt sure
that Baumberger's ears were pricked toward the sound of his footsteps,
and he made them purposely audible.

"Hello, Mother Hart," he called out cheerfully to Phoebe, pottering down
in the coolness. "Any cream going to waste, or buttermilk, or cake?" He
went down to her, and laid his hand upon her shoulder with a caressing
touch which brought tears into her eyes. "Don't you worry a bit, little
mother," he said softly. "I think we can beat them at their own game.
They've stacked the deck, but we'll beat it, anyhow." His hand slid down
to her arm, and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Grant, Grant!" She laid her forehead against him for a moment, then
looked up at him with a certain whimsical solicitude. "Never mind our
trouble now. What's this about you and Vadnie? The boys seem to think
you two are going to make a match of it. And HAVE you been quarreling,
you two? I only want," she added, deprecatingly, "to see my biggest boy
happy, and if I can do anything in any way to help--"

"