“You know you lied about your right to this mine. We bought it and we’re going to keep it. If you want it you’ve got to take it, and you’d better look right sharp after your own stake. This is ‘what we’re a-goin’ to do!’”
“Well,” said Max, as the excited lad leaped down out of rifle-range, “you’ve declared war for certain, and I imagine we’ll have to fight it out on this line if it takes all—”
“Don’t say ‘summer’; there’s snow and frost enough in this wind to furnish a Virginia January.”
“Well—all Winter, then. But they wont try it on—they know better.”
Evidently Max’s indecisions were over.
“No,” Morris agreed, “I don’t think they’ll attack by themselves, but they can make about as much trouble for you by simply staying there.”
“Besides,” Sandy put in, “one of ’em’ll start to town as soon as it comes dark, and na doot can find plenty o’ their own kind, who wad like na better sport than to join in a scheme o’ this nature.”
“I can put a stop to that,” said Morris.
“How?”
“Nobody’ll try to get away till night, and by that time I’ll be down there to stop him, whoever he is, and send him back again with a flea in his ear.”