Donald reached for his hat.
"Caleb Brent's squatter-right to that Sawdust Pile is going to be upheld," he declared. "I'll clean that colony out before sunset, or they'll clean me."
"I'd proceed cautiously if I were you, Don. They have a host of friends up in Darrow, and we mustn't precipitate a feud."
"I'm going over now and serve notice on them to vacate immediately." He grinned at old Daney. "A negro, a handful of Greeks, and those unfortunate women can't bluff the boss of Port Agnew, Mr. Daney."
"They tell me there's a blind pig down there, also."
"It will not be there after to-day," Donald answered lightly, and departed for the Sawdust Pile.
As he came up to the gate in the neat fence Caleb Brent had built across the Sawdust Pile nine years before, a baby boy, of perhaps three years of age, rose out of the weeds in which he had been playing and regarded the visitor expectantly.
"Hello, bub!" the young laird of Tyee greeted the child.
"Hello!" came the piping answer. "Are you my daddy?"
"Why, no, Snickelfritz." He ran his fingers through the tot's golden hair. "Don't you know your own daddy?"