"Oh, I've got no men," answered Rimrock quickly, "those fellows are just coming along. I'm Henry Jones and I came to warn you gentlemen you're trespassing on one of my claims."
"Can't help it," said the guard, "we're here under orders to kill you if you come over this line."
He indicated the wall which barred the way to the location notice of the claim and Rimrock hitched his belt to the left.
"Show me your papers," he said. "You've got no right to kill any man until you prove that this claim is yours."
That hitch of the belt had brought his heavy six-shooter well around on the side of his leg and as the gunmen watched him he looked them over, still struggling to get back his breath. Then as no one moved he advanced deliberately and put his hand on the wall.
"Now," he said, "you show me your authority or I'll come over there and put you off."
There was a stir in the ranks of the grim-faced gun-fighters and their captain looked behind. Not forty feet away on the flat floor of the mesa was the shaft of the Old Juan claim and, tacked to the post that rose up from its rockpile was a new, unweathered notice.
"That's the notice," said the captain, "but you stay where you are. You knock down that wall and you'll get killed!"
"Killed nothing!" burst out Rimrock contemptuously, "you're afraid to shoot me!" And looking him straight in the eyes, he pushed the top rock off the wall.
"Now!" he said after a moment's silence as the gunmen moved uneasily about, "I'll do that again, and I'll keep on doing it until you show me that this ain't my claim."