A rough cart-track led past the hut and towards the mouth of the creek.  Along this Doctor Morton turned, and soon came in sight of the log-house which Clarkson had built upon the very best corner of the land.  It was by no means an uncomfortable-looking dwelling.  The rough logs were partly covered by a wild vine, and a quantity of hop plants, still green and leafy.  The roof, instead of shingles, was thatched with sheets of bark, and an iron stove pipe passing through these was the only visible chimney.  But the place had a well-to-do look, which was not likely to improve the Doctor’s good humour.  There was a little garden roughly railed in, in front, and some children playing there.  At the end of the house was a small farm-yard, with pigs, a cow, and a shaggy horse, all looking out serenely at the stranger.  Each one of the occupants of the place seemed to feel perfectly secure and at home, and to have neither suspicion nor fear of the speedy ejection which was being planned for them.  No doubt it was very absurd, but even the serene sleepy eyes of the cow seemed to have aggravation in them, and the Doctor turned his horse round to return home, in the worst possible humour.

The country roads were so bad, however, that though it always appears natural for a man in a passion to ride fast, he was obliged to check his horse and pick his way among the deep ruts and holes.  Going on in this way and having some little trouble with the animal, which was young and spirited, he saw a man coming along the road before him, and as they drew nearer recognized Clarkson.

The squatter was not a pleasant man to look at.  He was of middle height, very broadly and strongly built, but with a slouching gait which corresponded perfectly with the expression of his coarse features, half brutal, half sly.  He wore an old fur cap, drawn so low upon his forehead as to shade his eyes, and conceal the frown with which he perceived his enemy.  His usual audacity of manner, however, did not desert him.  He stood still as the other approached, and called out,

“Good morning, Doctor.  Been looking at your property?”

“Yes,” was the answer.  “And I have one thing to say to you, the sooner you are off it the better.”

“Now, that ain’t reasonable,” Clarkson said, coming nearer.  “I’ve built a bit of a house there, and took a world of trouble, and you expect me to give it up for nothing.”

“Decidedly I do.  Good morning.”

He was moving on, when Clarkson caught his rein.

“Look here, Doctor Morton,” he said, “I found the land wild as land could be.  I took possession of it, and kept it.  Mr. Latour was not hard upon me, nor Miss Latour neither; and I can’t see why you as has had nothing to do with it, neither buying it, nor building on it, should be so much keener after it than them.”

“I don’t mean to argue the matter,” the Doctor answered.  “You’ve had warning enough; and I mean you to go.  Loose my horse.”