"Et is not coming," stated Lejeune with a studied calm. "Plant he riffuse permit to cross."
"Permit to what?" asked Welton.
"To cross hees fores', gov'ment fores'. I can' get in here widout cross gov'ment land. I got to get permit from Plant. Plant he riffuse."
Welton rose, staring at his visitor.
"Do you mean to tell me," he cried at last, "that a man hasn't got a right to get into his own land? That they can keep a man out of his own land?"
"Da's right," nodded the Frenchman.
"But you've been in here for ten years or so to my knowledge."
Abruptly the sheepman's calm fell from him. He became wildly excited. His black eyes snapped, his hair bristled, he arose from his chair and gesticulated.
"Every year I geev heem three ship! Three ship!" he repeated, thrusting three stubby fingers at Welton's face. "Three little ship! I stay all summer! He never say permit. Thees year he kip me out."
"Give any reason?" asked Welton.