take away the land and all on it, that's belonged to me for nine
years, and nobody never having tried to prize me out of it except
some trifling Injuns and horse-thieves. Ain't they NO honesty in
the world? Hasn't no man his property rights? I guess your boss
knowed this wasn't HIS land, didn't he? What's going to become of
this country when man isn't satisfied with what is his'n? Well, now
you've had a little talk with me, and hoping you've enjoyed it, you
can just mosey along. I'll send your weapons after you by a
messenger."

The young man cast a despairing glance toward the girl who stood
like a statue in her doorway, gravely listening. The man with the
bushy white hair had drawn near, hut evidently with no thought of
interfering.

"Willock," the voice came so eager, so impetuous, that the words
were somewhat incoherent, "I've GOT to talk to your daughter--hold
on, don't shoot, LISTEN!--that's what I've come for, to see her
and--and meet her and hear her voice. I can't help it, can I? It's
been two long years since I left home, back East, and in all these
two years I've never seen anything like your little girl and--and
what harm can it do? I say! Have pity on a fellow, and do him the
biggest favor he could enjoy on this earth when it won't cost you
a penny, or a turn of your hand. Look here--hold on, don't turn
away! I'm just so lonesome, so homesick, so dead KILLED by all
these sand-hills and alkali beds and nothing to talk to from one
year's end to the next but men and cattle...."

Willock glared at him in silence, fingering the trigger
thoughtfully.