ey live," went on Baker, complacently, without
attention to this. "You don't catch Little Willie scattering shekels
when he can just as well keep kopecks. They've left a little joker in
the pack." He produced a paper-covered copy of the new regulations,
later called the Use Book. "They've swiped about everything in sight for
these pestiferous reserves, but they encourage the honest prospector.
'Let us develop the mineral wealth,' says they. So these forests are
still open for taking up under the mineral act. All you have to do is to
make a 'discovery,' and stake out your claim; and there you are!"

"All the mineral's been taken up long ago," Bob pointed out.

"All the valuable mineral," corrected Baker. "But it's sufficient, so
Erbe tells me, to discover a ledge. Ledges? Hell! They're easier to find
than an old maid at a sewing circle! That's what the country is made
of--ledges! You can dig one out every ten feet. Well, I've got people
out finding ledges, and filing on them."

"Can you do that?" asked Bob.

"I am doing it."

"I mean legally."

"Oh, this bunch of prospectors files on the claims, and gets them
patented. Then it's nobody's business what they do with their own
property. So they just sell it to me."

"That's colonizing," objected Bob. "You'll get nailed."

"Not on your tintype, it isn't. I don't furnish a cent. They do it all
on their own money. Oldham's got the whole matter in hand. When we get
the deal through, we'll have about two hundred thousand acres all around
the head-waters; and then these blood-sucking, red-tape, autocratic
slobs can go to thunder."

Baker leaned forward impressively.

"Got to spring it all at once," said he, "otherwise there'll be
outsiders in, thinking there's a strike been made--also they'll get
inquisitive. It's a great chance. And, Orde, my son, there's a few
claims up there that will assay about sixty thousand board feet to the
acre. What do you think of it for a young and active lumberman? I'm
going to talk it over with Welton. It's a grand little scheme. Wonder
how that will hit our old friend, Thorne?"

Bob rose yawning.

"I'm tired. Going to turn in," said he. "Thorne isn't a bad sort."

"He's one of these damn theorists, that's what he is," said Baker; "and
he's got a little authority, and he's doing just as much as he can to
unsettle business and hinder the legitimate development of the country."
He relaxed his earnestness with another grin. "Stung again