“The Flying U has got nothing to do with this case. As a matter of fact, old man Whitmore is pretty sore at us fellows right now, because we quit him and turned nesters right under his nose. Miss Hallman, you'll have one sweet time proving that we ain't bona fide settlers. We're just crazy to make homes for ourselves. We think it's time we settled down—and we're settling here because we're used to this country. We're real sorry you didn't find it necessary to pay your folks for the fun of pointing out the land to us and steering us to the land office—but we can't help that. We needed the money to buy plows.” He looked at her full with his honest, gray eyes that could so deceive his fellow men—to say nothing of women. “And that reminds me, I've got to go and borrow a garden rake. I'm planting a patch of onions,” he explained engagingly. “Say, this farming is a great game, isn't it? Well, good day, Miss Hallman. Glad I happened to meet you.”
“You won't be when I get through with you!” predicted the lady with her firm chin thrust a little forward. “You think you've got everything your own way, don't you? Well, you've just simply put yourself in a position where we can get at you. You deceived me from the very start—and now you shall pay the penalty. I've got our clients to protect—and besides that I shall dearly love to get even. Oh, you'll squeal for mercy, believe me!” She touched up the horses with her whip and went bumping away over the tough sod.
“Wow!” ejaculated Andy, looking after her with laughter in his eyes. “She's sure one mad lady, all right. But shucks!” He turned and galloped off toward the farthest claim, which was Happy Jack's and the last one to be furnished with a lawful habitation.
He was lucky. The Happy Family were foregathered there, wrangling with Happy Jack over some trifling thing. He joined zealously in the argument and helped them thrash Happy Jack in the word-war, before he came at his errand.
“Say, boys, we'll have to get busy now,” he told them seriously at last. “Florence Grace is onto us bigger'n a wolf—and if I'm any judge, that lady's going to be some fighter. We've either got to plow up a bunch of ground and plant some darn thing, or else get stock on and pasture it. They ain't going to over look any bets from now on. I met her back here on the bench. She was so mad she talked too much and I got next to their scheme—seems like we've knocked the Syndicate outa quite a bunch of money, all right. They want this land, and they think they're going to get it.
“Now my idea is this: We've got to have stock, or we can't graze the land. And if we take Flying U cattle and throw 'em on here, they'll contest us for taking fake claims, for the outfit. So what's the matter with us buying a bunch from the Old Man?”
“I'm broke,” began Pink promptly, but Andy stopped him.
“Listen here. We buy a bunch of stock and give him mortgages for the money, with the cattle for security. We graze 'em till the mortgage runs out—till we prove up, that means—and then we don't spot up, and the Old Man takes the stock back, see? We're grazing our own stock, according to law—but the outfit—”
“Where do we git off at?” demanded Happy Jack suspiciously. “We got to live—and it takes money to buy grub, these days.”
“Well, we'll make out all right. We can have so many head of cattle named for the mortgage; there'll be increase, and we should get that. By the time we all prove up we'll have a little bunch of stock of our own' d' uh see? And we'll have the range—what there is left. These squatters ain't going to last over winter, if you ask me. And it'll be a long, cold day when another bunch of greenhorns bites on any colony scheme.”