The Flying U's Last Stand [43]
away after the leaders.
"Say, when did yuh take this claim?" Andy leaned negligently forward and looked at him curiously.
"Oh, a week or so ago. Why?"
"I just wondered. I took it up myself, four weeks ago. Four forties I've got, strung out in a line that runs from here to yonder. You've got over on my land--by mistake, of course. I just thought I'd tell yuh he added casually, straightening up, "because I didn't think you knew it before."
"Thanks." The man smiled one-sidedly and began filling a pipe while he watched them.
"A-course it won't be much trouble to move your shack," Andy continued with neighborly interest. "A wheelbarrow will take it, easy. Back here on the bench a mile or so, yuh may find a patch of ground that nobody claims."
"Thanks." The man picked a match from his pocket and striking it on the new yellow door-casing lighted his pipe.
Andy moved uneasily. He did not like that man, for all he appeared so thankful for information. The fellow had a narrow forehead and broad, high cheek bones and a predatory nose. His eyes were the wrong shade of blue and the lids drooped too much at the outer corners. Andy studied him curiously. Did the man know what he was up against, or did he not? Was he sincere in his ready thanks, or was he sarcastic? The man looked up at him then. His eyes were clean of any hidden meaning, but they were the wrong shade of blue--the shade that is opaque and that you feel hides much that should be revealed to you.
"Seems like there's been quite a crop of shacks grown up since I rode over this way," Weary announced suddenly, returning from a brief scurry after the leaders, that inclined too much toward the south in their travel.
"Yes, the country's settling up pretty fast," conceded the man in the doorway.
"Well, by golly!" bellowed Slim, popping up from below on a heaving horse. Slim was getting fatter every year, and his horses always puffed when they climbed a hill under his weight. His round eyes glared resentfully at the man and the shack and at the three who were sitting there so quietly on their horses--just as if they had ridden up for a friendly call. "Ain't this shack on your land?" he spluttered to Andy.
"Why, yes. It is, just right at present." Andy admitted, following the man's example in the matter of a smoke, except that Andy rolled and lighted a cigarette. "He's going to move it, though."
"Oh. Thanks." With the one-sided smile.
"Say, you needn't thank ME," Andy protested in his polite tone. "YOU'RE going to move it, you know."
"You may know, but I don't," corrected the other.
"Oh, that's all right. You may not know right now, but don't let that worry yuh. This is sure a great country for pilgrims to wise up in."
Big Medicine came up over the hill a hundred feet or so from them; goggled a minute at the bold trespass and came loping across the intervening space. "Say, by cripes, what's this mean?" he bawled. "Claim-jumper, hey? Say, young feller, do you realize what you're doing--squattin' down on another man's land. Don't yuh know claim-jumpers git shot, out here? Or lynched?"
"Oh, cut out all that rough stuff!" advised the man wearily. "I know who you are, and what your bluff is worth. I know you can't held a foot of land if anybody is a mind to contest your claims. I've filed a contest on this eighty, here, and I'm going to hold it. Let that soak into your minds. I don't want any trouble--I'm even willing to take a good deal in the way of bluster, rather than have trouble. But I'm going to stay. See?" He waved his pipe in a gesture of finality and continued to smoke and to watch them impersonally, leaning against the door in that lounging negligence which is so irritating to a disputant.
"Oh, all right--if that's the way you feel about it," Andy replied indifferently, and turned away. "Come on, boys--no use trying to bluff that gazabo. He's wise."
He rode away with his face turned over his shoulder to see if the others were going to follow. When he was past the corner and therefore out of the man's sight, he raised his
"Say, when did yuh take this claim?" Andy leaned negligently forward and looked at him curiously.
"Oh, a week or so ago. Why?"
"I just wondered. I took it up myself, four weeks ago. Four forties I've got, strung out in a line that runs from here to yonder. You've got over on my land--by mistake, of course. I just thought I'd tell yuh he added casually, straightening up, "because I didn't think you knew it before."
"Thanks." The man smiled one-sidedly and began filling a pipe while he watched them.
"A-course it won't be much trouble to move your shack," Andy continued with neighborly interest. "A wheelbarrow will take it, easy. Back here on the bench a mile or so, yuh may find a patch of ground that nobody claims."
"Thanks." The man picked a match from his pocket and striking it on the new yellow door-casing lighted his pipe.
Andy moved uneasily. He did not like that man, for all he appeared so thankful for information. The fellow had a narrow forehead and broad, high cheek bones and a predatory nose. His eyes were the wrong shade of blue and the lids drooped too much at the outer corners. Andy studied him curiously. Did the man know what he was up against, or did he not? Was he sincere in his ready thanks, or was he sarcastic? The man looked up at him then. His eyes were clean of any hidden meaning, but they were the wrong shade of blue--the shade that is opaque and that you feel hides much that should be revealed to you.
"Seems like there's been quite a crop of shacks grown up since I rode over this way," Weary announced suddenly, returning from a brief scurry after the leaders, that inclined too much toward the south in their travel.
"Yes, the country's settling up pretty fast," conceded the man in the doorway.
"Well, by golly!" bellowed Slim, popping up from below on a heaving horse. Slim was getting fatter every year, and his horses always puffed when they climbed a hill under his weight. His round eyes glared resentfully at the man and the shack and at the three who were sitting there so quietly on their horses--just as if they had ridden up for a friendly call. "Ain't this shack on your land?" he spluttered to Andy.
"Why, yes. It is, just right at present." Andy admitted, following the man's example in the matter of a smoke, except that Andy rolled and lighted a cigarette. "He's going to move it, though."
"Oh. Thanks." With the one-sided smile.
"Say, you needn't thank ME," Andy protested in his polite tone. "YOU'RE going to move it, you know."
"You may know, but I don't," corrected the other.
"Oh, that's all right. You may not know right now, but don't let that worry yuh. This is sure a great country for pilgrims to wise up in."
Big Medicine came up over the hill a hundred feet or so from them; goggled a minute at the bold trespass and came loping across the intervening space. "Say, by cripes, what's this mean?" he bawled. "Claim-jumper, hey? Say, young feller, do you realize what you're doing--squattin' down on another man's land. Don't yuh know claim-jumpers git shot, out here? Or lynched?"
"Oh, cut out all that rough stuff!" advised the man wearily. "I know who you are, and what your bluff is worth. I know you can't held a foot of land if anybody is a mind to contest your claims. I've filed a contest on this eighty, here, and I'm going to hold it. Let that soak into your minds. I don't want any trouble--I'm even willing to take a good deal in the way of bluster, rather than have trouble. But I'm going to stay. See?" He waved his pipe in a gesture of finality and continued to smoke and to watch them impersonally, leaning against the door in that lounging negligence which is so irritating to a disputant.
"Oh, all right--if that's the way you feel about it," Andy replied indifferently, and turned away. "Come on, boys--no use trying to bluff that gazabo. He's wise."
He rode away with his face turned over his shoulder to see if the others were going to follow. When he was past the corner and therefore out of the man's sight, he raised his