“Please come with me!” urged Appleton.  “You’ll never know what hit you.”

With a curse the promoter wheeled and walked swiftly down the trail by which he had come.

“Get ready to shoot,” Dan ordered when he had returned to his vantage-point.  A few moments later he saw the invading party approach, but he withheld his warning shout until it was close at hand.  Evidently Gordon did not believe he would have the reckless courage to carry out his threat, and had determined to put him to the test.

The engineer gauged his distance nicely, and when the new-comers had fairly passed within the danger zone he gave the signal to fire.

A blast heavier than the one which had discouraged Gordon’s advance followed his command, and down upon the new-comers rained a deluge which sent them scurrying to cover.  Fortunately no one was injured.

An hour later the invaders had pitched camp a mile below, and after placing a trusted man on guard Appleton sent his weary men to bed.

It was Curtis Gordon himself who brought O’Neil the first tidings of this encounter, for, seeing the uselessness of an immediate attempt to overcome Dan’s party by force, he determined to make formal protest.  He secured a boat, and a few hours later the swift current swept him down to the lower crossing, where McKay put a locomotive at his disposal for the trip to Omar.  By the time he arrived there he was quite himself again, suave, self-possessed, and magnificently outraged at the treatment he had received.  O’Neil met him with courtesy.

“Your man Appleton has lost his head,” Gordon began.  “I’ve come to ask you to call him off.”

“He is following instructions to the letter.”

“Do you mean that you refuse to allow me to run my right-of-way along that hillside?  Impossible!” His voice betokened shocked surprise.

“I am merely holding my own survey.  I can’t quit work to accommodate you.”

“But, my dear sir, I must insist that you do.”

O’Neil shrugged.

“Then there is but one way to construe your refusal—­it means that you declare war.”

“You saved me that necessity when you sent Linn to hire my men away.”

Gordon ignored this reference.  “You must realize, O’Neil,” said he, “that I am merely asking what is mine.  I have the right to use that canonside—­the right to use your track at that point, in fact, if it proves impracticable to parallel it—­under the law of common user.  You are an experienced contractor; you must be familiar with that law.”

“Yes.  I looked it up before beginning operations, and I found it has never been applied to Alaska.”

Gordon started.  “That’s a ridiculous statement.”

“Perhaps, but it’s true.  Alaska is not a territory, it’s a district, and it has its own code.  Until the law of common user has been applied here you’ll have to use the other side of the river.”