"Well, as a matter of fact, he gave up the claim to all intents and
purposes, but now that the Yellow Pine people are cutting up toward him,
he's suddenly come to the notion that the place is worth while. So he's
patched up his cabin, and moved in his whole family. We've got to get a
relinquishment out of him."
"If he has no right there, why not put him off?" asked Bob.
"Well, in the first place, this Samuels is a hard old citizen with a
shotgun; in the second place, he has some shadow of right on which he
could make a fight; in the third place, the country up that way doesn't
care much for us anyway, and we want to minimize opposition."
"I see," said Bob.
"You'll have to go up and look the ground over, that's all. Do what you
think best. Here are all the papers in the matter. You can look them
over at your leisure."
Bob tucked the bundle of papers in his _cantinas_, or pommel bags, and
left the office. Amy was rattling the stove in her open-air kitchen,
shaking down the ashes preparatory to the fire. Bob stopped to look
across at her trim, full figure in its starched blue, immaculate as
always.
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