"Road closed to trespass by the Wolverine Company," the ranger stated impassively.
Welton whistled.
"That mean I can't get to my own property?" he asked.
"My orders are to close this road to the Wolverine Company."
"Well, you've obeyed orders. Now get out the way. Tell your chief he can go ahead on a trespass suit."
But the old man shook his head.
"No, you don't understand," he repeated patiently. "My orders were to close the road to the Company, not just to give notice."
Without replying Welton picked up his reins and started his horses. The man seemed barely to shift his position, but from some concealment he produced a worn and shiny Colt's. This he laid across the horn of his saddle.
"Stop," he commanded, and this time his voice had a bite to it.
"Millions for defence," chuckled Welton, who recognized perfectly the tone, "and how much did you say for tribute?"