“Huh! Fancy bird, ain’t ye?”
Joshua smiled tolerantly. “You’d better go back to The Silver Dollar, hadn’t you?” he asked. “Your friends want you, I think.”
“Ye do, eh? Well, ye ain’t supposed to think. D’ye know who I am?”
“I haven’t the pleasure of your acquaintance,” said Joshua in an amused drawl.
“Haven’t th’ pleasure, eh? Well, then, I’ll interdooce myself. I’m Lee Sweet, owner o’ Box-R Ranch, halfway from here to Spur. Now d’ye know me?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of you,” Joshua told him. “If you’ll please stand to one side, Mr. Sweet, I’d like to lead that other team to the water trough.”
“Ne’mind th’ other team, young fella. I got somethin’ to tell ye. An’ it’s this here: You’re th’ bird that started this here homesteadin’ around th’ lake, and now a lotta folks are comin’ in an’ takin’ up good grazin’ land. Ye can’t raise nothin’ on that soil—it’s plumb full o’ alkali. Ye’ll all starve to death. An’ ye might’s well make up yer mind to beat it. That land ain’t good for anythin’ but grazin’ cows in summer, an’ at that the pickins is poor enough. But all that’s neither here ner there. My point is that ye gotta get outa there before I drive ye out. Do I make myself pretty plain, pardner?”
“But you wouldn’t stop me from watering those mules, would you?” laughed Joshua in an attempt to humor him. “Won’t you please stand aside a little? Then when you’re feeling better, come over and see me and we’ll talk about this matter.”
“I’m feelin’ fine right now,” Sweet declared. “An’ right now’s the time for me to tell ye I won’t stand fer ye buttin’ in on my summer pasture.”
“Well,” said Joshua, “the government has allowed our homestead claims and we’ve made some rather extensive arrangements to go ahead and develop them. I think you’d better see the land office, Mr. Sweet, if you have any complaint to make. Really, now, I must be watering this team so that we can be getting on. We’ve a pile of work to do before nighttime comes.”