“There you are,” he said despondently; “just as I thought yesterday—­Mr. Joseph H. Williams, my uncle, owner.  Great chance of getting that cabin, isn’t there?”

“Now, hold your horses,” interrupted Mr. Dean.  “Let’s finish the rest of this record.  Well, that’s the strangest thing I ever heard of.  His last assessment is dated last summer, August 3, 19—.  This year’s work hasn’t been done yet.  Why—­well, anyway, there must be something worth while around that cabin.  ’Claim jumped and re-recorded as a lode claim August 22, 19—.’  Why, that’s the day you started on the trip to look for a cabin!”

“You are right,” exclaimed Mr. Allen.  “Let’s look at the list of records filed on August 22d last.”  The clerk showed them the page.  It read as follows: 

“Assessment on Joseph H. Williams lode claim, Cheyenne Mountain.”  Then followed the description.  Directly under it was the following: 

“Lode claim, Buffalo Park, located by Beverly H. Pembroke, as described on page 1162.”

“The cabin then belongs, by right of relocation, to Beverly H. Pembroke,” remarked Mr. Allen, “and we are just exactly four days late.  Too bad we didn’t start at this end of the trip.”

“Who is Beverly H. Pembroke?” asked Mr. Dean.  No one could tell.  “Well, this much is clear,” he went on:  “there was some very good reason for the relocation of that claim, and it couldn’t have been for that old cabin.  Men don’t locate claims to get possession of old, tumbled-down log cabins nowadays.”

“Well, there’s this much that isn’t clear,” returned Willis:  “why that change was made the day we started over this route, and furthermore, how does it come that the same men worked the assessment on the two claims if they belong to different parties?  No, sir, men, listen:  my Uncle didn’t want that cabin in his possession at this time for some reason, so he transferred the claim to this man, Pembroke.  Anyway, I’m glad it doesn’t belong to my uncle now, whether we get it for our purpose or not.”

“Now, you listen,” said Mr. Dean:  “let’s go and see Mr. Pembroke at once and inquire about it.  He can’t do more than throw us out, and it might be he’d be tickled to let us have the cabin.  Every hundred dollars’ worth of work done on that property, whether it’s mine, trail, dam, or housework, is equal to an assessment.  If we remodel the house and use it, he can buy the property or, as they say, ‘prove up’ on it.  What do you say?  I believe we can make a bargain.”

“It’s a go!” cried Mr. Allen.  “I was sure we would need your brains for this job, Mr. Dean.  Let’s go right now.”  They looked up the desired gentleman in the directory, then started for his office.

“Cheer up, old boy,” cried Mr. Allen as he slapped Willis on the back.  “Here’s where we win, uncle or no uncle.  Isn’t that right, Mr. Dean?”

“You feel too confident,” returned Willis.  “I see the game.  You don’t.  Mr. Beverly H. Pembroke will politely refuse any offer.  My uncle has coached him on what to say to any inquiries.  See if I’m not right!”