“It is better,” he said, “to have a clear understanding at once. I think the law governing private property is clearly set forth on the signs along my boundary. This preserve is posted and patrolled; I have done all I could to guarantee public rights; I have not made any application to have the public road closed, and I am perfectly willing to keep it open for public convenience. But it is not right for anybody to carry a gun in these preserves; and if it continues I shall surely apply for permission to close the road.”
“I guess you think you’ll do a lot o’ things,” observed the man, stolidly.
“I think I will,” returned Burleson, refusing to take offence at the insolence.
The man tossed his gun to his shoulder and slouched towards the boundary. Burleson watched him in silence until the fellow reached the netted wire fence, then he called out.
“There is a turnstile to the left.”
But the native deliberately drew a hatchet from his belt, opened the wire netting with one heavy slash, and crawled through. Then wheeling in his tracks outside, he cursed Burleson and shook his gun at him, and finally slouched off towards Fox Cross-roads, leaving the master of the forest a trifle white and quivering under the cutting curb of self-control.
Presently his spasmodic grip on the riding-crop relaxed; he looked about him with a long, quiet breath, flicked a burr from his riding-breeches, and walked on, head lowered and jaw set. His horse followed at his heels.
A mile beyond he met a keeper demolishing a deadfall along the creek, and he summoned him with a good-humored greeting.
“Rolfe, we’re headed for trouble, but it must not come—do you hear? I won’t have it if it can be avoided—and it must be avoided. These poor devils that Grier hemmed in and warned off with his shot-gun patrol are looking for that same sort of thing from me. Petty annoyance shall not drive me into violence; I’ve made it plain to every keeper, every forester, every man who takes wages from me. If I can stand insolence from people I am sorry for, my employés can and must.… Who was that man I met below here?”
“Abe Storm, sir.”