"I got a right here," he said. "There's plenty good grass here and I take my sheep where they get fat. This is government land."
"It is government land," Wade quietly acknowledged, "but you have no right on it. I control this range, I've paid for it, and unless you move within the next twelve hours you'll be arrested for trespass."
The sheepman's sullen face darkened with anger.
"Who'll do it? The sheriff won't, and I'm not afeerd of you cattlemen. My sheep must eat as well as your cattle, and I got a good right here. I won't move."
"Then remember that I warned you if you get into trouble, Jensen. There's plenty of open range and good water on the other side of the hills. I advise you to trail your sheep there before it is too late. Don't think that Race Moran can save you from the law. Moran is not running this valley, and don't you forget it."
"How do you know Moran's backin' me?" The Swede could not conceal his surprise. "You can't bluff me, Wade. I know my rights, and I'm goin' to stick to 'em."
"The devil you say!" Now that he was sure of Moran's complicity in the matter, Wade felt himself becoming angry, in spite of his resolve to keep cool. "You'd best listen to reason and pull out while you're able to travel. There are men in this valley who won't waste time in talk when they know you're here."
"Bah!" Jensen snorted contemptuously. "I can take care of myself. I know what I'm doin', I tell you."
"You may, but you don't act like it," was Wade's parting remark, as he turned his horse and rode off.
"Go to hell!" the Swede shouted after him.