“Likely not. I’ve been up here in the camps, and we don’t get our mail and things at Oakley any more. There’s a new post-office and store eight miles nearer, started last summer.”
“But what about the walnut? Haven’t we any rights in it at all?” asked Tom, in despair.
“I’m afraid not,” said his cousin, after some thought. “But then, neither has your man down there who’s trying to get it. He evidently thinks I own that land. McLeod squatted there for a while before my time. But he never homesteaded any of it. He wasn’t a farmer. No, the only person who can claim that raft, it seems to me, is the Daniel Wilson Lumber Company, that cut it—or its heirs or assigns, if it has any. If it hasn’t, I expect the government’ll claim it.”
Tom groaned. He had never anticipated such a flatly crushing conclusion to the expedition that had almost cost him his life.
“I’d go to the land agent in Oakley and make a claim,” Dave went on. “Maybe you can homestead that land where the raft lies. You’re not old enough? Put it in my name. Go and see father and see what he says.”
“But you’ll come back with me, Dave?” said Tom. “It’s a matter of maybe fifty thousand dollars.”
“If we get it. But I don’t honestly think there’s a chance. I’ve got a better thing up here. With a little luck, I’ll make my everlasting fortune. The samples of free-milling ore out of this new field are something wonderful. It’s better shot than any timber—that doesn’t belong to us anyway. Better come along with me, and we’ll make a big strike together.”
Tom shook his head. He did not have the gold-fever, and he could not relinquish hopes of the walnut timber that he had suffered so much to secure. There was a loud crashing of brush in the distance. Another party of gold hunters was on the trail.
“Say, Jackson, we’ve got to be moving!” cried the bearded man, fuming with impatience.
“All right—in a second. Look here, Tom, we can’t stop. Your best plan is to go back there and try to stand Harrison and McLeod off till you find out definitely what’s right. They can’t claim the raft any more than you can—unless,” he added, “they’ve gone and homesteaded the land where the timber lies. That would give them possession, anyway, and that’s nine points of the law. But they’d likely have done that the first thing if they had thought it was open for filing. You go and see father. And look here, I’ll come down myself as soon as I get our claims staked—in a week, maybe.”