The agitation, thus deprived of its chief hope, might very well have been expected to simmer down, to die away slowly.  As a matter of fact, it collapsed.  The newspaper attacks ceased; the public meetings were discontinued; the saloons and other storm centres applied their powers to a discussion of the Gans-Nelson fight.  Samuels was very briefly declared a trespasser by the courts.  Erbe disappeared from the case.  The United States Marshal, riding up with a posse into a supposedly hostile country, found no opposition to his enforcement of the court’s decree.  Only old Samuels himself offered an undaunted defence, but was soon dislodged and led away by men who half-pitied, half-ridiculed his violence.  The sign “Property of the U.S.” resumed its place.  Thorne made of the ancient homestead a ranger’s post.

“It’s incomprehensible as a genuine popular movement,” said he on one of Bob’s periodical returns to headquarters.  The young man now held a commission, and lived with the Thornes when at home.  “The opposition up there was so rabid and it wilted too suddenly.”

“‘The mutable many,’” quoted Amy.

But Thorne shook his head.

“It’s as though they’d pricked a balloon,” said he.  “They don’t love us up there, yet; but it’s no worse now than it used to be here.  Last week it was actually unsafe on the streets.  If they were so strong for Samuels then, why not now?  A mere court decision could not change their minds so quickly.  I should have expected the real bitterness and the real resistence when the Marshal went up to put the old man off.”

“That’s the way I sized it up,” admitted Bob.

“It’s as if somebody had turned off the steam and the engine quit running,” said Thorne, “and for that reason I’m more than ever convinced that it was a made agitation.  Samuels was only an excuse.”

“What for?” asked Bob.

“Struck me the same way,” put in California John.  “Reminded me of the war.  Looked like they held onto this as a sort of first defence as long as they could, and then just abandoned it and dropped back.”

“That’s it,” nodded Thorne.  “That’s my conclusion.  Somebody bigger than Samuels fears investigation; and they hoped to stop our sort of investigation short at Samuels.  Well, they haven’t succeeded.”

Amy arose abruptly and ran to her filing cases.

“That ought to be easily determined,” she cried, looking over her shoulder with shining eyes.  “I have the papers about all ready for the whole of our Forest.  Here’s a list of the private holdings, by whom held, how acquired and when.”  She spread the papers out on the table.  “Now let’s see who owns lots of land, and who is powerful enough to enlist senators, and who would fear investigation.”

All four bent over the list for a few moments.  Then Thorne made five dots with his pencil opposite as many names.

“All the rest are little homesteaders,” said he.  “One of these must be our villain.”