hat forty's mine
yet. It's part uh the homestead. The meadowland is most all included.
That was a preemption claim." Peaceful spoke slowly, and there was a
note of discouragement in his voice which it hurt Miss Georgie to hear.

"Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are lawful, you
know. And if you've got your patent for the homestead--you have got
a patent, haven't you?" Something in his face made her fling in the
question.

"Y-es--or I thought I had one," he answered dryly. "It seems now there's
a flaw in it, and it's got to go back to Washington and be rectified. It
ain't legal till that's been done."

Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back despairingly.
"Who found that mistake?" she demanded. "Baumberger?"

"Y-es, Baumberger. He thought we better go over all the papers
ourselves, so the other side couldn't spring anything on us unawares,
and there was one paper that hadn't been made out right. So it had to be
fixed, of course. Baumberger was real put out about it."

"Oh, of course!" Miss Georgie went to the window to make sure of the
gentleman's whereabouts. He was still sitting upon the store porch, and
he was just in the act of lifting a tall, glass mug of beer to his gross
mouth when she looked over at him. "Pig!" she gritted under her breath.
"It's a pity he doesn't drink himself to death." She turned and faced
Peaceful anxiously.

"You spoke a while ago as if you didn't trust him implicitly," she
said. "I firmly believe he hired those eight men to file on your land. I
believe he also hired Saunders to watch Grant, for some reason--perhaps
because Grant has shown his hostility from the first. Did you know
Saunders--or someone--has been shooting at Grant from the top of
the bluff for--well, ever since you left? The last shot clipped his
hat-brim. Then Saunders was shot--or shot himself, according to the
inquest--and there has been no more rifle practice with Grant for the
target."

"N-no, I hadn't heard about that." Peaceful pulled hard at his beard so
that his lips were drawn slightly apart. "I don't mind telling yuh," he
added slowly, "that I've got another lawyer working on the case--Black.
He hates Baumberger, and he'd like to git something on him. I don't
want Baumberger should know anything about it, though. He takes it for
granted I swallow whole everything he says and does--but I don't. Not by
a long shot. Black'll ferret out any crooked work."

"He's a dandy i