ection,'" she read
hearteningly from the index, and turned hastily to see what was to be
said about it. It happened to be another decision rendered in a letter,
and they jubilated together over the sentiment conveyed therein.

"Now, here is what I was telling you, Grant," she said suddenly, after
another long minute of studying silently the index. "'Eight Locaters of
Placer Ground May Convey to One Party'--and Baumberger's certainly that
party!--'Who Can Secure Patent for One Hundred and Sixty Acres.' We'll
just read up on that, and find out for sure what the conditions are.
Now, here"--she had found the page quickly--"listen to this:

"'I have to state that if eight bona-fide locaters'

("Whether they're that remains to be proven, Mr. Baumberger!")

'each having located twenty acres, in accordance with the congressional
rules and regulations, should convey all their right, title, and
interest in said locations to one person, such person might apply for a
patent--'

"And so on into tiresomeness. Really, I'm beginning to think
Baumberger's awfully stupid, to even attempt such a silly thing. He
hasn't a legal leg to stand on. 'Goes with the patent'--that sounds
nice to me. They're not locating in good faith--those eight jumpers
down there." She fortified herself with another piece of candy. "All you
need," she declared briskly, "is a good lawyer to take this up and see
it through."

"You seem to be doing pretty well," he remarked, his eyes dwelling
rather intently upon her face, and smiling as they did so.

"I can read what's in the book," she remarked lightly, her eyes upon
its pages as if she were consciously holding them from meeting his look.
"But it will take a lawyer to see the case through the courts. And let
me tell you one thing very emphatically." She looked at him brightly.
"Many a case as strong as this has been lost, just by legal quibbling
and ignorance of how to handle it properly. Many a case without a leg to
stand on has been won, by smooth work on the part of some lawyer. Now,
I'll just jot down what they'll have to do, and prove, if they get that
land--and look here, Mr. Man, here's another thing to consider. Maybe
Baumberger doesn't expect to get a patent. Maybe he means to make old
Peaceful so deucedly sick of the thing that he'll sell out cheap rather
than fight the thing to a finish. Because this can be appealed, and
taken up and up, and reopened because of some technical error--oh, as
Jenny