ng with life, electric, eager, expectant.
Taking advantage of the scarcity of buildings, an enterprising citizen had
erected tents in rows on the street line, for whose shelter he charged
enormously--and did a capacity business.

"A hundred came in on the last train," complained the over-worked station
agent. "God knows what they all expect to do here!"

Corrigan had kept his promise to build Judge Lindman a courthouse. It was
a flat-roofed structure, one story high, wedged between a saloon and
Braman's bank building. A sign in the front window of Braman's bank
announced that Jefferson Corrigan, agent of the Land & Improvement
Company, of New York, had office space within, but on the morning of the
day following his return to Manti, Corrigan was seated at one side of a
flat-top desk in the courthouse, talking with Judge Lindman, who sat at
the other side.

"Got them all transcribed?" asked Corrigan.

The Judge drew a thin ledger from his desk and passed it over to Corrigan.
As Corrigan turned the pages and his face lighted, the Judge's grew
correspondingly troubled.

"All right," exulted Corrigan. "This purports to be an accurate and true
record of all the land transactions in this section from the special grant
to the Midland Company, down to date. It shows no intermediate owners from
the Midland Company to the present claimants. As a document arraigning
carelessness on the part of land buyers it cannot be excelled. There isn't
a present owner that has a legal leg to stand on!"

"There is only one weak point in your case," said the Judge, and his eyes
gleamed with satisfaction, which he concealed by bowing his head. "It is
that since these records show no sale of its property by the Midland
Company, the Midland Company can come forward and re-establish its
title."

Corrigan laughed and flipped a legal-looking paper in front of the Judge.
The latter opened it and read, showing eagerness. He laid it down after
reading, his hands trembling.

"It shows that the Midland Company--James Marchmont,
president--transferred to Jefferson Corrigan, on a date prior to these
other transactions, one-hundred thousand acres of land here--the Midland
Company's entire holdings. Why, man, it is forgery!"

"No," said Corrigan quietly. "James Marchmont is alive. He signed his name
right where it is. He'll confirm it, too, for he happens to be in
something of the fix that you are in. Therefore, there being no records of
any sales o