"Is it?" asked Martin.

"Isn't it?" inquired Bob.

"Well, some says not. Of course they couldn't be expected to drive all
those cattle back to the plains, so they're just naturally spraddled out
grazing over this lower country."

"Why, what becomes of the winter feed?" cried Bob aghast, well aware
that in these lower altitudes the season's growth was nearly finished
and the ripening about to begin.

"That's just it," said Martin; "where, oh, where?"

"Can't anything be done?" repeated Bob, with some show of indignation.

"What? This is all government land. The mountain boys ain't got any real
exclusive rights there. It's public property. The regulations are pretty
clear about preference being given to the small owner, and the local
man; but that's up to Plant."

"It'll come pretty hard on some of the boys, if they keep on eating off
their winter feed and their summer feed too," hazarded Bob.

"It'll drive 'em out of business," said Martin. "It'll do more; it'll
close out settlement in this country. There ain't nothing doing _but_
cattle, and if the small cattle business is closed up, the permanent
settlement closes up too. There's only lumber and power and such left;
and they don't mean settlement. That's what the Government is supposed
to look out for."

"Government!" said Bob with contempt.

"Well, now, there's a few good ones, even at that," stated Martin
argumentively. "There's old John, and Ross Fletcher, and one or two more
that are on the square. It may be these little grafters have got theirs
coming yet. Now and then an inspector comes along. He looks over the
books old Hen Plant or the next fellow has fixed up; asks a few
questions about trails and such; writes out a nice little recommend on
his pocket typewriter, and moves on. And if there's a roar from some of
these little fellows, why it gets lost. Some clerk nails it, and sends
it to Mr. Inspector with a blue question mark on it; and Mr. Inspector
passes it on to Mr. Supervisor for explanation; and Mr. Supervisor's
strong holt is explanations. There you are! But it only needs one
inspector _who inspects_ to knock over the whole apple-cart. Once get by
your clerk to your chief, and you got it."

Whether Martin made this prediction in a spirit of hope and a full
knowledge, or whether his shot in the air merely chanced to hit the
mark, it would be impossible to say. As a matter of fact within the
month appeared Ashley Thorne, an inspector who ins