"'Been peggin' out?' asks Wonnacott."
"'That's my bizzness,' says Oi."
"'It's mine, too,' says he."
"'Ho!' says Oi, 'is it! Well then, the best thing ye can do,' says Oi, 'is to go on about your biznness and I'll go on about moine. Oi guess if yer mane peggin', yer pegs won't interfere wid moine. Oi've just marked off fifty acres to the east of the creek. Ye’ll foind me pegs alongside the prospecting claim.'"
"What 'll they do?" I asked.
"Nothin'—they can't."
But we had no more than finished eating, when we saw Kinnear and Wonnacott riding rapidly along the track, and they never even hailed us.
"They're up to something," cautioned Higgins. "P'raps they're going to get in first and lodge an application."
"They can't do that. Oi've pegged out the ground," objected Paddy.
"No one saw you peg it, Paddy."
The same idea struck us all. The two men would ride in, swear they had pegged and lodge an application ahead of ours. They would be two to one. Paddy and I dashed for our saddles, rounded up our horses and went off at a canter to pick up the trail, leaving Higgins and the boy to follow with the pack.
"We've got to take the Dog Leg trail, son," Paddy called out to me, "they've gone by the Queen, and it'll save us an hour and a half."
Nevertheless, we never drew rein until our worn-out horses stopped at the Warden's office. It was five o'clock and he was just about to leave.
"I want to lodge an application, O'Regan," I announced to the clerk acting as Warden until a new one should be appointed.
"All right, you're just in time. Come in!"
