"What you mean —— you?"
"Easy, easy," cautioned Roger. "Don't go to cursing. That's mighty poor business."
"Business! What do you mean by prodding my nag that way?"
"He was standing right where the next hole is going," replied Roger, driving the digger into the ground. "Sorry, but you were in my way. Now I'm a busy man, Mister Whoever-you-are, and I haven't any time to waste arguing or quarreling with you. I don't know who you are or why you've intruded on me like this, but I do know that you're on my land and that you've been extremely insulting; and if you've no other business with me than to tell me what I can't do, I bid you good-day."
The rider apparently paid not the slightest attention to Roger's words. He sat crouched in the saddle in the attitude of a man controlling himself until the propitious moment for a sudden leap.
"In your way?" he said.
"Yes—as you see."
"And you think you come here to move folks when they're in your way?"
"Usually a man has sense enough to move when he's in the way of another man's land."
"You come down here to teach us sense too?"