may or may not be able to persuade some magistrate to do about
this, I don't know. But, for the present, you'll clear out. Get
that? I've warned you, in the presence of a witness. If you know
anything of law, you know that a landowner, after such warning,
may eject a trespasser by force. Go. And keep going. That's all."

Wefers sputtered wordlessly, from time to time, during the
tirade. But before its end, he fell silent and began to fidget.
He himself was none too well versed in the matter of his legal
rights of intrusion. And, for the moment, he had no chance to
execute his errand. Later, armed with a magistrate's order, he
could pay back with interest his humiliation of this morning. In
the meantime--

"Gimme my gun!" he demanded in grouchy surrender.

The Master stooped; picked up the pistol, and held it in both
hands. Lad, all eagerness, stood dancingly waiting for him to
throw it again. But it was not thrown. Instead, the Master
"broke" the weapon; shaking the greasy cartridges out on to his
own palm and then transferring them to his pockets.

"In case of accidents," he explained, pleasantly, as he handed
the pistol back to its scowling owner. "And if you'll stop at the
post-office, this afternoon, you'll find these shells in an
envelope in your letter-box. Now, chase; unless you want Lad to
escort you to your boat. Lad is fine at escorting undesirables
off the Place. Want to see him perform?"

But Wefers did not answer. Snatching the impotent pistol and