"Only since my father's death, this year."
"Yer father, eh? Who was yer father?"
"Peter Drew, of the southern part of the state."
"How long'd he own that prop'ty before he died?"
"He owned it for some time, I understand," said Oliver patiently.
The grey head shook slowly from side to side. "I can show ye, down to the county seat, that Nancy Fleet—who was an Ivison and sister o' the woman I married here about four year ago—owned that land up until the first o' the year, anyway. It was left to her by old Tabor Ivison when he died. That was fifteen year ago, and I've paid the taxes on it ever since for Nancy Fleet, for the privilege o' runnin' stock on it. I paid the taxes last year. What 'a' ye got to say to that?"
Oliver Drew had absolutely nothing to say to it. He could only stare at the gaunt old man.
"But I have the deed!" he burst out at last.
"And I've got last year's tax receipts," drawled Adam Selden. "Ye better go down to the county seat and have a look at the records," he added, swinging his horse about. "Then when ye've done that, I'd like a talk with ye. Just so! Just so!"
He rode off without another word, the gang following.