“Now, now, we don't want any overt acts of violence here,” wheezed Baumberger, laying hand upon Good Indian's shoulder from behind. Good Indian shook off the touch as if it were a tarantula upon him.
“You go to the devil,” he advised chillingly.
“Tut, tut!” Baumberger reproved gently. “The ladies are within hearing, my boy. Let's get at this thing sensibly and calmly. Violence only makes things worse. See how quiet Wally and Jack and Clark and Gene are! THEY realize how childishly spiteful it would be for them to follow your example. They know better. They don't want—”
Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. “When we start in, it won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs,” he observed placidly. “We're just waiting for him to ante.”
“This,” said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering, puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into his voice, “this is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's just-a-bide-beyond you youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under the criminal code. But there!” His voice purred at them again. “You won't. You're all too clear-headed and sensible.”
“Oh, sure!” Wally gave his characteristic little snort. “We're only just standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!”
Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line.
“Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your object,” he rumbled. “Let's get at this thing right end to. First, what are you doing here?”
The man across the line did not put down his rifle, except that he let the butt of it drop slightly away from his shoulder so that the sights were in alignment with an irrigating shovel thrust upright into the ground ten feet to one side of the group. His manner lost little of its watchfulness, and his voice was surly with defiance when he spoke. But Good Indian, regarding him suspiciously through half-closed lids, would have sworn that a look of intelligence flashed between those two. There was nothing more than a quiver of his nostrils to betray him as he moved over beside Evadna—for the pure pleasure of being near her, one would think; in reality, while the pleasure was there, that he might see both Baumberger's face and Stanley's without turning more than his eyes.
“All there is to it,” Stanley began blustering, “you see before yuh. I've located twenty acres here as a placer claim. That there's the northwest corner—ap-prox'm'tley—close as I could come by sightin'. Your fences are straight with yer land, and I happen to sabe all yer corners. I've got a right here. I believe this ground is worth more for the gold that's in it than for the turnips you can make grow on top—and that there makes mineral land of it, and as such, open to entry. That's accordin' to law. I ain't goin' to build no trouble—but I sure do aim to defend my prope'ty rights if I have to. I realize yuh may think diffrunt from me. You've got a right to prove, if yuh can, that all this ain't mineral land. I've got jest as much right to prove it is.”