it--"

"You can mighty quick find out," Andy retorted. "Go up and
ask Chip for them land laws, and that plat. And ask him what
he thinks about the deal. You don't have to take my word for
it." Andy grinned virtuously and pushed back his chair. From
their faces, and the remarks they had made, he felt very
confident of the ultimate decision. "What about you, Patsy?"
he asked suddenly, turning to the bulky, bald German cook who
was thumping bread dough in a far corner. "You got any
homestead or desert rights you ain't used?"

"Py cosh, I got all der rights dere iss," Patsy returned
querulously. "I got more rights as you shmartys. I got
soldier's rights mit fightin'. Und py cosh, I use him too if
dem fellers coom by us mit der dry farms alreatty!"

"Well, you son-of-a-gun!" Andy smote him elatedly upon a fat
shoulder. "What do you know about old Patsy for a dead game
sport? By gracious, that makes another three hundred and
twenty to the good. Gee, it's lucky this bunch has gone along
turning up their noses at nesters and thinkin' they couldn't
be real punchers and hold down claims too. If any of us had
had sense enough to grab a piece of land and settle down to
raise families, we'd be right up against it now. We'd have to
set back and watch a bunch of down-east rubes light down on
us like flies on spilt molasses, and we couldn't do a thing."

"As it is, we'll all turn nesters for the good of the cause!"
finished Pink somewhat cynically, getting up and following