"I can only hand you a decision on the intention as apart from the legal aspect of the case," he said judicially. "It's clear to me no saleable rights were given. There was no transaction over them. The widow of this man had no rights to sell. If disinterested advice is acceptable I should urge this. It's in view, I guess, of McFarlane's expressed indifference to Peters' cattle grazing on his land. Let Peters acknowledge he has no rights. Then let McFarlane enter into an agreement that Peters can run his stock on his land, the right being non-transferable. I should put the whole thing in writing."
"An' a darn good an' honest decision, too," cried Dug heartily.
The shadow of a beatific smile passed over Peters' small features.
"Bully!" he murmured. Then he added: "But I sort o' feel we both oughter set the law on that—she devil."
Jeff turned abruptly. His movement was almost electrical.
"I shouldn't," he said sharply.
Dug caught a glimpse of the desperate light in his eyes.
"Why not?" There was a dash of resentment in Peters' tone.
But Jeff was spared a reply. Dug anticipated him with an oath.
"Gol darn you, because she's—a woman!" he cried, with a fierce warmth. "Hell take it you ken have your rights. That's enough, I guess. I'll have the papers wrote, an' have you sign 'em to-morrow. Meanwhile I'm sick to death of the whole blamed thing. I quit right here."