"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 title 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 passed 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 ass 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.