"Hey you, hold on there!" he said.
Dunne and McHale pulled up.
"Look a-here, friend," said the latter, "do you think you're one of them never-sag gates, or a mountain, or what? You want to see a doctor about them delusions. They'll sure get you into trouble some day."
"That'll be all right about me," the big guardian of the gate returned. "Just read that notice. This is private property."
They read it. It was of the "no-admittance" variety, and forbade entrance to all individuals not in the company's employ.
"We've got business here, and we're going in," said Casey, and began to walk his horse forward.
The man caught the bridle with one hand. The other he thrust into his pocket.
"You get back now," he ordered, "or you'll walk home."
Dunne stopped instantly. His companion's hand made one lightninglike motion, and perforce came up empty.
"And this," said Mr. McHale mournfully—"this was the time I didn't need a gun!"