ententiously after a minute. "Looks
like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, too." He waited
expectantly. "You might hand me the brush when you're through," he
hinted grimly. "I might like to get out after some scalps myself."

"That so?" Good Indian asked inattentively, and went on without waiting
for any reply. They left the garden, and went down the road to the
stable, Wally passively following Grant's lead. Someone came hurrying
after them, and they turned to see Jack. The others had evidently stayed
to hear the legal harangue to a close.

"Say, Stanley says there's four beside the fellows we saw," Jack
announced, rather breathlessly, for he had been running through the
loose, heavy soil of the garden to overtake them. "They've located
twenty acres apiece, he says--staked 'em out in the night and stuck up
their notices--and everyone's going to STICK. They're all going to put
in grizzlies and mine the whole thing, he told dad. He just the same as
accused dad right out of covering up valuable mineral land on purpose.
And he says the law's all on their side." He leaned hard against the
stable, and drew his fingers across his forehead, white as a girl's when
he pushed back his hat. "Baumberger," he said cheerlessly, "was
still talking injunction when I left, but--" He flung out his hand
contemptuously.

"I wish dad wasn't so--" began Wally moodily, and let it go at that.

Good Indian threw up his head with that peculiar tightening of lips
which meant much in the way of emotion.

"He'll listen to Baumberger, and he'll lose the ranch listening," he
stated distinctly. "If there's anything to do, we've got to do it."

"We can run 'em off--maybe," suggested Jack, his fighting instincts
steadied by the vivid memory of four rifles held by four men, who looked
thoroughly capable of using them.

"This isn't a case of apple-stealing," Good Indian quelled sharply, and
got his rope from his saddle with the manner of a man who has definitely
made up his mind.

"What CAN we do, then?" Wally demanded impatiently.

"Not a thing at present." Good Indian started for the little pasture,
where Keno was feeding and switching methodically at the flies. "You
fellows can do more by doing nothing to-day than if you killed off the
whole bunch."

He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two still
moodily discussing the thing. He glanced at them casually, and went
about the business of saddling.

"Whe