"I do."
"Was it the man who raced you from Leadville to Aspen, and who shot you when you tried to bluff him by making him believe that you had already located the claim in your own name?"
"It was."
"Then, to put it plainly, you are the aggressor, after all. You have really jumped your partner's claim."
The promoter stopped and faced his man, and the skulker at the tunnel's mouth crept nearer, as a listener who may not miss a word.
"That is what men will say, I suppose; and I shall not contradict them. He has forfeited his right." Jeffard said it with eyes downcast, but there was no incertitude in the words.
"Forfeited his right? How? By shooting at you in a very natural fit of frenzied rage? I can't believe that you realize the enormity of this thing, Mr. Jeffard. You are new to the West. It is true that the law can't touch you, but public opinion, the sentiment of a mining region, will brand you as the basest of thieves."
"That is the public's privilege. I shall not attempt to defend myself—to you, or to any one. The consequences are mine to suffer or to ignore."
"You can't ignore them. Your best friends will turn upon you, and mining-camp justice will not only acquit the man who tried to kill you—it will fight for him and condemn you."
"But yesterday you said it would have given me the benefit of the doubt and lynched him. I can fight my own battle."