Then, within a week, events began to stir in Durham County.  Samuels wrote a rather violent letter announcing his change of mind in regard to the relinquishment.  To this a formal answer of regret was sent, together with an intimation that the matter was now irrevocable.  Somebody sent a copy of the local paper containing a vituperative interview with the old mountaineer.  This was followed by other copies in which other citizens contributed letters of expostulation and indignation.  The matter was commented on ponderously in a typical country editorial containing such phrases as “clothed in a little brief authority,” “arrogant minions of the law,” and so forth.  Tom Carroll, riding through Durham on business, was treated to ugly looks and uglier words.  Ross Fletcher, visiting the county seat, escaped a physical encounter with belligerent members of an inflamed populace only by the exercise of the utmost coolness and good nature.  Samuels moved further by petitioning to the proper authorities for the setting aside of the relinquishment and the reopening of the whole case, on the ground that his signature had been obtained by “coercion and undue influence.”  On the heels of this a mass meeting in Durham was called and largely attended, at which a number of speakers uttered very inflammatory doctrines.  It culminated in resolutions of protest against Thorne personally, against his rangers, and his policy, alleging that one and all acted “arbitrarily, arrogantly, unjustly and oppressively in the abuse of their rights and duties.”  Finally, as a crowning absurdity, the grand jury, at its annual session, overstepping in its zeal the limits of its powers, returned findings against “one Ashley Thorne and Robert Orde, in the pay of the United States Government, for arbitrary exceeding of their rights and authorities; for illegal interference with the rights of citizens; for oppression,” and so on through a round dozen vague counts.

All this tumult astonished Thorne.

“I had no idea this Samuels case interested them quite so much up there; nor did I imagine it possible they would raise such a row over that old long-horn.  I haven’t been up in that country as much as I should have liked, but I did not suspect they were so hostile to the Service.”

“They always have been,” commented California John.

“All this loud mouthing doesn’t mean much,” said Thorne, “though of course we’ll have to undergo an investigation.  Their charges don’t mean anything.  Old Samuels must be a good deal of a demagogue.”

“He’s got a good lawyer,” stated California John briefly.

“Lawyer?  Who?”

“Erbe of White Oaks.”

Thorne stared at him puzzled.

“Erbe?  Are you sure of that?  Why, the man is a big man; he’s generally a cut or so above cases of this sort—­with as little foundation for them.  He’s more in the line of fat fees.  Here’s two mountain cases he’s undertaken.”