There ain't nothing doing _but_
cattle, and if the small cattle business is closed up, the permanent
settlement closes up too. There's only lumber and power and such left;
and they don't mean settlement. That's what the Government is supposed
to look out for."
"Government!" said Bob with contempt.
"Well, now, there's a few good ones, even at that," stated Martin
argumentively. "There's old John, and Ross Fletcher, and one or two more
that are on the square. It may be these little grafters have got theirs
coming yet. Now and then an inspector comes along. He looks over the
books old Hen Plant or the next fellow has fixed up; asks a few
questions about trails and such; writes out a nice little recommend on
his pocket typewriter, and moves on. And if there's a roar from some of
these little fellows, why it gets lost. Some clerk nails it, and sends
it to Mr. Inspector with a blue question mark on it; and Mr. Inspector
passes it on to Mr. Supervisor for explanation; and Mr. Supervisor's
strong holt is explanations. There you are! But it only needs one
inspector _who inspects_ to knock over the whole apple-cart.
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