"No," corrected Wayland, "they tie us hand and foot to keep us _from_ serving the Nation."

And the Swede's tent was not the only one they saw, as the reader well knows. Coming along the Gully on the Ridge crest, Wayland looked for the pile of illegally-taken saw logs. They were gone. There was nothing left but a timber skid, and the dry slash and a pile of saw dust emitting the odor of imprisoned fragrance in the afternoon heat; but a few yards back from the pile of saw dust stood a tepee tent with the flap hooked up; and in the opening, a wide-eyed diminutive child with a very old face and a very small frame, that looked for all the world to Wayland like a clothes rack in a p.a.w.n shop covered with colored rags.

"Waz ye wantin' me faather?"

As the reader is aware this little person never lacked speech.

"H's away! H's gone t' th' citie for th' throuble that's comin' on about th' mine, y' onderstand? He's wan o' th' men t' be on hand if there's throuble."

"Are you one of the new settlers'?"

"Yes, sor! M' name's Meestress Leezie O'Finnigan! We're come upp t'

live three years, mebba four, m' faather says we may fool 'em on less than five; an' we're goin' to be wal-thy, an' we won't hev' a thing t'

do but sit toight an' whuttle an' sput an'," it was the same story, she had told Eleanor.

"What trouble in the mines?" asked Wayland.

"In the coal mines, sor! There's a gen'leman come from Waashington, an' soon as the Ranger's been found, there's been goin's on, sor, bad goin's ons, soon as th' Ranger's back, their expectin' throuble; un' m'

faather's gone down for to be there, he saz."

"Well?" said Wayland, as they rode on towards the Cabin.

"They've been busy, Wayland! They've been busy, man! You're in the thick of it! More power t' y'r elbow! We've got the first licks in on th' sheriff's carca.s.s."

"And six dead men to the good," added Wayland dryly, "only I guess they don't go into the reports, they are missing!"

As they approached the Cabin, a young man in gray flannels and sailor hat sat up in the hammock, looked twice at Wayland, got up and came forward.

"Are you Wayland?" he asked, with a contemptuous glance at the Ranger's disguised suit.

"That's my name."

The young fellow handed him a letter stamped from the head department at Washington. It stated that the bearer was a Federal attorney sent out to investigate the Smelter City Coal Claims and any other matters bearing on the contests of the Holy Cross. The letter was couched--Wayland thought--with peculiar frigidity, as though he and not the coal claimants were the guilty party to an undecided contest. Then he glanced back at the bearer: an incredibly young and inexperienced youth--not more than twenty-two or three, barely out of a law school.

"Glad to see you, sir," said Wayland, "Been waiting long?"

The young fellow gave him a side wise look.

"About a week."

"I'm sorry to have delayed you; but one of the most important cases we have ever had called me away. I had intended to go down to Washington and explain the whole situation."

The young man smiled very faintly, and was it, contemptuously? "A good deal needs explaining," he remarked.

"I hope you made yourself at home in the Cabin?"

"On the contrary, I'm with Moyese! I have arranged to have the coal cases examined this week. The claimants declare the coal is not worth a farthing, and this case is seriously disturbing the t.i.tle to the land where the Smelter stands."

"You're a geologist, of course?" asked Wayland innocently.

"No, I'm from the law department. We considered this more a case of legality of t.i.tle than coal values. The Company has kindly consented to let us examine the mine this week."

"Kindly consented? By George, I like that condescending kindness from pirates and thieves!"

"But there are two sides to this question, Mr. Ranger: what good does coal do locked up in the earth? The country wants coal developed."

"Exactly," answered Wayland, "and not stolen and locked up in a great trust and rings that jack the prices sky-high! The law was pa.s.sed to keep these pirates from stealing coal with dummies, to let the individual who hadn't money to hire dummies go in and develop. If you'll walk along the Ridge here, you'll see another of the contested cases. The forests are open to homesteading wherever the land is agricultural; but you can hardly call land agricultural that's a sheer drop of 1,000 feet, though the big trees growing on it would each build a house of six rooms. If you'll walk along, you'll see where the 'dummy' business has begun the same game as in the Bitter Boot."

The young bureaucrat turned short on his heel and strolled down the Ridge Trail, with an air that only a bureaucrat, a very young bureaucrat, and a very cheap one could possibly wear.

"Well, A 'm--A 'm d--danged."

Wayland burst out laughing.

"Do you suppose that little kindergarten a.s.s thought he had come and caught me off duty?"

The old man stood dumfounded. It was such a happy and triumphant home-coming for a Man on the Job, who had risked his life for seven successive weeks solely in the cause of Right. Matthews slammed his hat on the ground, and stamped upon it, and clenched his teeth to keep in the words that seemed to want to hiss out.

"Man alive. A'd like t' spank him!"

Wayland laughed.

"I guess he's staying with our white-vested friend," he said, as he pulled the saddles off the animals and gave them a slap heading down to the drinking trough; but when he turned, Calamity stood in the door of the Cabin holding out a letter. He forgot to greet her; for the handwriting was Eleanor's. He tore the envelope open devouring the words in his eagerness; then his face clouded.

"What in thunder does it all mean? Listen.

'Dear d.i.c.k: I don't know when you will come home, but as soon as you do, you will learn of something abominable that has been published.

I'm going to send Calamity up with this every day so she will be sure to catch you first thing.' ("It's dated three weeks ago," interjected Wayland.) 'They have struck at you through me. Don't mind, d.i.c.k.

They did it to make you stop. You will not stop, will you? It didn't hurt me.' (Oh, brave beautiful liar! Does the Angel Gabriel take note of such lies by women; and which side of the account does he put them on?) 'Father says a fact is a hard nut to crack. You're not to take any notice of this attack on me. You're not to flinch from the fight for my sake or deflect a hair's breadth on my account. You know what you said. Things have gone so far that crime is invading decent lives.

Well, it has invaded yours and mine; and you're not to slack one jot.

d.i.c.k, I command it. I command it in the name of that seal I gave you.'

'E. MacD.'"

"What in thunder does it all mean?" reiterated Wayland.

"What seal is that she speaks of? A'm thinkin' if you'll read that pile of mail in there on the table, you'll find out."

"Any ansher?" asked Calamity softly, by which, you may guess, dear reader, that an Indian woman has a heart under her ribs as well as you.

"Wait," said Wayland.

He tore a sheet from his field book. This is what he wrote: