Andy swung toward him like a prisoner who has just heard a
jury return a verdict of not guilty to the judge. "I've got
it, yes," he answered simply, with only his voice betraying
the emotions he felt--and his eye? "Want it?"
"I'll take a look at it, if it's handy," said Chip.
Andy felt in his inside coat pocket, drew out a thin, folded
map of that particular part of the county with all the
government land marked upon it, and handed it to Chip without
a word. He singled out a couple of pamphlets from a bunch of
old letters such as men are in the habit of carrying upon
their persons, and gave them to Chip also.
"That's a copy of the homestead and desert laws," he said.
"I guess you heard me telling Weary what kinda deal we're up
against, here. Better not say anything to the Old Man till
you have to; no use worrying him--he can't do nothing." It
was amazing, the change that had come over Andy's face and
manner since Chip first spoke. Now he grinned a little.
"If you want to go in on this deal," he said quizzically,
"maybe it'll be just as well if you talk to the bunch
yourself about it, Chip. You ain't any tin, angel, but I'm
willing to admit the boys'll believe you; a whole lot quicker
than they would me."
"Yes--and they'll probably hand me a bunch of pity for
getting stung by you," Chip retorted.
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