"Did you and Lance find anything?" Mowbray asked.
Kenwyne was waiting for this opening to make what he felt was an important announcement.
"We went to the bluff," he said. "What we found was two homesteaders cutting down all the best trees."
"Homesteaders!"
Mowbray frowned and the others looked interested.
"You warned them off, of course!"
"Lance did. But one of the fellows retorted that the timber was his."
"Impossible!" Mowbray said sharply. "The nearest preemption is six miles off—and that's too close!"
"It appears that the man has just bought the section on our western range-line. He referred me to the land register, if I had any doubt. I'm afraid you must take it for granted, sir, that we are going to have neighbors."
"Never!" Mowbray brought his fist down on the table with a resounding blow. "We may not be able to turn out these intruders, but I decline to consider them neighbors of ours." He turned to the others. "You must see that this is disturbing news. We came here to live in accordance with the best English traditions, and although we had to put up with some hardships, there were compensations—abundant sport, space, and freedom. In a sense, the country was ours, with its wood and water, as far as we cared to ride. Now every homestead that is built restricts what we have regarded, with some justice, as our rights. We took heavy risks in settling here when people believed it was economically impossible to farm at Allenwood."