"He says that, whether you own the place or not, you'll have to leave."
"M'm-m! That's serious talk. In some places I've visited it would be called fighting talk."
"Number this place among them, Mr. Drew," she said soberly, turning her dark, serious eyes upon him.
"But I didn't come up here to fight!"
"Neither did the President of the United States take his seat in Washington to fight," she pointed out, keeping that level glance fixed on his face.
"Oh, as to that," mused Oliver after a thoughtful pause, "I guess I can fight. They didn't send me back from France as entirely useless. But it strikes me as a very stupid proceeding. Look here, Miss Selden—how many acres of grass does your step—er—Old Man Selden run cows on for the summer grazing?—how many acres in the Clinker Creek Country, in short?"
Jessamy pursed her lips. "Perhaps four thousand," she decided after thought.
"Uh-huh. And on my forty there's about fifteen acres, all told, that represents grass land. The rest is timber and chaparral. Now, fifteen acres added to four thousand makes four thousand fifteen acres. The addition would take care of perhaps five additional animals for the three months or more that his stock remains in that locality. Do you mean to tell me that Adam Selden would attempt to run a man out of the country for that?"
She closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly up and down in a childlike fashion that always amused him. It meant "Just that!"
He gave a short laugh of unbelief.