In the sheaf of vouchers Thorne ran across one item repeated several hundred times in the two years.  It read: 

“To M. Aiken, team, $3.”

Inquiry disclosed the fact that “M.  Aiken,” was Minnie, Plant’s niece.  By the simple expedient of conveying to her title in his team and buckboard, the Supervisor was enabled to collect three dollars every time he drove anywhere.

Thus the case grew, fortified by affidavits.  Thorne found that Plant had been grafting between three and four thousand dollars a year.

Of course the whole community soon came to know all about it.  The taking of testimony and the giving of affidavits were matters for daily discussion.  Thorne inspired faith, because he had faith himself.

“I don’t wonder you people have been hostile to the Forest Reserves,” said he.  “You can’t be blamed.  But it is not the Office’s fault.  I’ve been in the Land Office a great many years, and they won’t stand for this sort of thing a minute.  I found very much the same sort of thing in one of the reserves in Oregon, only there was a gang operating there.  I got eleven convictions, and a new deal all round.  The Land Office is all right, when you get to it.  You’ll see us in a different light, after this is over.”

The mountaineers liked him.  He showed them a new kink by which the lash rope of a pack could be jammed in the cinch-hook for convenience of the lone packer; he proved to be an excellent shot with the revolver; in his official work he had used and tested the methods of many wilderness travellers, and could discuss and demonstrate.  Furthermore, he got results.

Austin conducted a roadhouse on the way to the Power House Number One:  this in addition to his saloon in Sycamore Flats.  The roadhouse was, as a matter of fact, on government land, but Austin established the shadow of a claim under mineral regulations, and, by obstructionist tactics, had prevented all the red tape from being unwound.  His mineral claim was flimsy; he knew it, and everybody else knew it.  But until the case should be reported back, he remained where he was.  It was up to Plant; and Plant had been lenient.  Probably Austin could have told why.

Thorne became cognizant of all this.  He served Austin notice.  Austin offered no comment, but sat tight.  He knew by previous experience that the necessary reports, recommendations, endorsements and official orders would take anywhere from one to three months.  By that time this inspector would have moved on—­Austin knew the game.  But three days later Thorne showed up early in the morning followed by a half-dozen interested rangers.  In the most business-like fashion and despite the variegated objections of Austin and his disreputable satellites, Thorne and his men attached their ropes to the flimsy structure and literally pulled it to pieces from the saddle.

“You have no right to use force!” cried Austin, who was well versed in the regulations.