for these lands, hasn't it? Very soon, the Statute of Limitations will
block _you_ altogether."

The Senator shifted a knee. Wayland waited.

"You have gained nothing--less than nothing: you have laid up a lot of
ill will for yourself that will block your promotion. Been four years
here, haven't you, at seventy-five dollars a month? I pay my cow men
more; and _they_ haven't spent five years at Yale. Now take the timber
cases. You hold the Smelter shouldn't take free timber from the
Forests?"

"No more than the poorest thief who steals a stick of wood from a
yard--"

"Pah! Poor man! Dismiss that piffle from your brain! What does the
poor man do for the Valley? Why does any man stay poor in this land?
Because he is no good! We've brought in thousands of workmen. We've
built up a city. We have developed this State."

"All for your own profit--"

"Exactly! What else does the poor man work for? But I'm not going to
argue that kindergarten twaddle of the college highbrows, Wayland. I'm
out for all I can make; so is the Smelter; so are you; but the point is
you've fought this timber thing; you have filed and filed and filed
your recommendations for suit to be instituted; so have the Land Office
men; have they done any good, Wayland? Has your boasted Federal
Government, so superior to the State, taken any action?"