"H'm, I guess ye don't know Abner Andrews, then, not by a jugfull, skiddy-me-shins, if ye do. There'll be no crawlin', mind ye, to them big bugs. An' what's more, they'll never set foot on this place without my consent."
"They won't wait for your consent. They didn't send word, I suppose, asking if I might make this survey?"
"No, not a line, the skunks."
"Neither will they ask permission to tramp over your land. They'll come unexpectedly, the same as I have."
"An' they'll go as unexpectedly as they'll come," and Abner stamped upon the ground. "So will you go, young man. I ain't got nuthin' agin you personally, but ye represent that bunch of grafters, so out ye go at once, an' don't ye dare to put ye'r foot upon this place agin without my permission."
But the surveyor never moved. With his right arm resting lightly on the theodolite he fixed his eyes steadily upon the farmer.
"Ain't ye goin'?" Abner demanded.
"No."
"Ye ain't! Well, I guess ye'll change ye'r tune, me hearty, before I'm through with ye."
Suddenly raising the gun by the barrel with both hands, he drew it back over his left shoulder in a most threatening manner.