"But it ain't," he said, "and no one claims it is."
Bostwick lowered his voice and looked at the gambler peculiarly.
"No one claims it yet!"
McCoppet threw away his cigar and took out a new one.
"Well? Come on. I bite. What's the answer?"
Bostwick leaned back in his chair.
"Suppose an accredited surveyor were to run out the reservation line—the line next the 'Laughing Water' claim—and make an error of an inch at the farthest end. Suppose that inch, projected several miles, became about a thousand feet—wouldn't the 'Laughing Water' claim be discovered to be a part of the Indian reservation?"
McCoppet eyed him narrowly, in silence, for a moment. He had suddenly conceived a new estimate of the man who had come from New York.
Bostwick again leaned forward, continuing:
"No one will be aware of the facts but ourselves—therefore no one will think of attempting to relocate the 'Laughing Water' ground, lawfully, at six o'clock on the morning of the rush. But we will be on hand, with the law at our backs, and quietly take possession of the property, on which—as it is reservation ground—the present occupants are trespassing."