"Heavens above! You own the Old Tabor Ivison Place?"
"So the recorder's office says—or ought to."
For fully ten seconds the big fellow faced Oliver, his blue eyes studying him carefully, appraisingly.
"Well, by thunder!" he muttered at last. "Tell me about it, pardner. My name's Damon Tamroy."
"Mine is Oliver Drew," said Oliver, offering his hand.
"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Tamroy in a low voice, his eyes, wide with curiosity, devouring Oliver. "The Old Ivison Place!"
"You seem surprised."
"Surprised! Hump! Say—le'me tell you right here, pardner; don't you ever pull a gun on any o' the Poison Oakers and act like Henry Dodd did. Maybe it's well you saw what was pulled off today—if you'll only remember when you get down there on the Tabor Ivison Place."