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 to Shaniko, a distance of 80 miles, thence by stage or private conveyance to Prineville, 80 miles further on, and from there to the Bend, an additional 30 miles. Every vehicle or animal procurable was consequently pressed into service to supply the abnormal demands, and the hotels in Prineville and Shaniko were overflowing with guests. All summer long, in fact, the dusty roads between Shaniko and the Bend were lined with travelers, and it was soon evident that a large proportion of them were under contract to convey whatever timber rights they might acquire to syndicates of Eastern lumbermen. All their expenses had been borne by the various combinations of this character, and as several syndicates were in the field simultaneously seeking to secure control of these lands, the rivalry between them became so intense at times that timber claimants, or "dummies," as they were more popularly known, commanded a premium, and the rush continued without interruption far into the winter.

After making arrangements with the DeschuteesDeschutes [sic] Echo relative to advertising the notices of final proof, on the 108 entries, I took a trip East for the avowed purpose of securing financial backing in the matter of paying for the lands. I consulted several lumbermen on the subject, and finally closed a deal with William H. Bradley, a multi-millionaire lumberman of Tomahawk, Wisconsin, whereby I guaranteed to procure deeds in his favor to the entire tract embraced in the 108 claims within one year after final proof was made. In return he agreed to advance $600 a claim in order to enable the entryman to prove up, and to take a year-mortgage on the land as security. It was provided also that the entire body of timber should average at least 10,000 feet per acre of merchantable lumber, and that Bradley should have the privilege of sending his own cruiser into the woods to make the estimates. In addition, if the land was found satisfactory, he was to allow me a bonus of $6 per acre, payable upon presentation of deeds after final proof.

Although I had never intimated to the locators in any way, shape or manner that it was my ultimate purpose to purchase these lands after they had been proved up on, yet I intended doing so all along, as I was well aware that on account of their financial condition my $600 equity in each claim would make me master of the situation, and that by advancing them from $200 to $300 additional, they would only be too glad to execute a deed in favor of whomsoever I might designate. By pursuing this course we not only expected to secure absolute title to the land, but also evade any possibility of Governmental prosecution on conspiracy charges.

After closing the deal with Bradley, he sent out Ben Sweet, of the Log & Lumber Company, of Milwaukee, Wis., for the purpose of making an estimate of the timber on the tract, and it was while Mr. Sweet and myself were on this trip that I had the pleasure of first becoming acquainted with Colonel Alfred R. Greene, Special Inspector of the Department of the Interior, who figured afterward, more or less, in the prosecution of the cases against myself and associates in the famous township "11-7" transaction.

One morning while Sweet was out in the woods cruising the timber, I concluded to take my rifle and endeavor to kill an antelope, of which there were an abundance in those days. As I was wandering along the road I came across a man and his driver eating their luncheons at the edge of the timber I had located. It required no second glance to convince me that I was face to face with the distinguished Government agent, because a few days previously my friend Fred A. Kribs had told me in Portland to be on the lookout for him, as he was out here investigating alleged fraudulent timber entries. Kribs had described Greene so accurately that I felt right away as if we were old acquaintances, although he did not appear to recognize me.

"When you come across a tall, gaunt individual, with billygoat whiskers," Kribs had said in describing Colonel Greene to me, "with iron-gray hair and a castor oil smile, who looks like a cross between a Kentucky colonel and a wandering minstrel, just clear the track and hold on to something, because you

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