Suddenly, without warning, the old man scraped back his chair.  Bob’s heart leaped.  Was his one chance escaping him?  Then to his relief Samuels spoke.  The long duel of silence was at an end.

XIV

“What might your name be?” inquired Samuels.

“Orde.”

“I heerd of you ... what might you be doing up here?”

“I’m just riding through.”

“Best thing any of you can do,” commented the old man grimly.

“I wish you’d tell me now why you jumped on me so this evening,” said Bob.

“If you don’t know, you’re a fool,” growled Samuels.

“I’ve knocked around a good deal,” persisted Bob, “and I’ve discovered that one side always sounds good until you hear the other man’s story.  I’ve only heard one side of this one.”

“And that’s all you’re like to hear,” Samuels told him.  “You don’t get no evidence out of me against myself.”

Bob laughed.

“You’re mighty suspicious—­and I don’t know as I blame you.  Bless your soul, what evidence do you suppose I could get from you in a case like this?  You’ve already made it clear enough with that old blunderbuss of yours what you think of the merits of the case.  I asked you out of personal interest.  I know the Government claims you don’t own this place; and I was curious to know why you think you do.  The Government reasoning looks pretty conclusive to a man who doesn’t know all the circumstances.”

“Oh, it is, is it!” cried Samuels, stung to anger.  “Well, what claim do you think the Government has?”

But Bob was too wily to be put in the aggressive.

“I’m not thinking; I’m asking,” said he.  “They say you’re holding this for the timber, and never proved up.”

“I took it up bony-fidy,” fairly shouted Samuels.  “Do you think a man plants an orchard and such like on a timber claim.  The timber is worth something, of course.  Well, don’t every man take up timber?  What about that Wolverine Company of yours?  What about the Yellow Pine people?  What about everybody, everywhere?  Ain’t I got a right to it, same as everybody else?”

He leaned forward, pounding his knee.  A querulous and sleepy voice spoke up from the interior of the cabin: 

“Oh, pa, for heaven’s sake don’t holler so!”

The old man paused in mid-career.  Over the treetops the moon was rising slowly.  Its light struck across the lower part of the verandah, showing clearly the gnarled hand of the mountaineer suspended above his sturdy knee; casting into dimness the silver of his massive head.  The hand descended noiselessly.

“Ain’t I got my rights, same as another man?” he asked, more reasonably.  “Just because I left out some little piece of their cussed red-tape am I a-goin’ to be turned out bag and baggage, child, kit, and kaboodle, while fifty big men steal, just plain steal, a thousand acres apiece and there ain’t nothing said?  Not if I know it!”