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Hay land is getting to be worth money, and I just want to know where we stand." "Quite proper," said Y.D., "quite proper. An' now the matter's under discussion, I'll jus' show you my hand. There's a fellow named Landson down the valley of the South Y.D. that's been flirtin' with that hay meadow for years, but he ain't got no claim to it.
Then the new-comer gave vent to a long, low whistle. "So that's the way of it," he said. "That's the kind of war Mr. Landson makes. Well, we can fight back with the same weapons, but that won't cut the hay, will it?" By this time Y.D. and Transley, with four other teamsters, were observed coming in. Each driver had had the same experience.
Jehoshaphat! What will you do with it?" "Look after it. Mr. Landson, you know that I have never worried about money; if I had I wouldn't be here. I figure that the more money a man has the greater are his responsibilities and his troubles; worse than that, his wealth excites the jealousy of the public and even the envy of his friends.
"Dang this dressin'," Y.D. remonstrated when a message demanding instant action reached him. "Landson, hear me now! I wouldn't take a million dollars for that girl, y' understand and I wouldn't trade a mangy cayuse for another!" So, grumbling, he found his way to his room and began a wrestle with his "store" clothes.
He sat his horse with an ease and grace that her eye was quick to appraise; he removed his broad felt hat before he spoke; and he did not call her "ma'am." "Pardon me I believe I am speaking to Y.D.'s daughter?" he asked, and before waiting for a reply hastened to introduce himself. "My name is Dennison Grant, foreman on the Landson ranch." "Oh!" she exclaimed.
To accomplish this he continued the practice of the Landson ranch; he was up every morning at five, and had done a day's work before the members of his staff began to assemble. For advice he turned to Jones and Murdoch, and the management of routine affairs he left entirely in the hands of the latter.
It was for the rancher who would appeal to the police to settle a "friendly" dispute. "No, I don't think it will be necessary to call in the police," returned Grant, dropping back to his pleasant, casual manner. "You know Y.D., and doubtless you feel quite safe under his wing. But you don't know Landson. Neither do you know the facts of the case the right and wrong of it.
The Landson gang were working farther down the valley, and the stack itself covered approach from the river. Drazk slipped from the saddle, and stole quietly into the open. The breeze was now coming down the valley. Transley's men had repaired such machines as they could and returned to work. The clatter of mowing machines filled the valley; the horses were speeded up to recover lost time.
"Well, no, I can't exactly say trouble," said Transley, "but we've got notice it's coming. A chap named Grant, foreman, I think, for Landson, down the valley, rode over last night, and invited us not to cut any hay hereabouts. He was very courteous, and all that, but he had the manner of a man who'd go quite a distance in a pinch." "What did you tell him?"
"I'm plumb equal to ridin' down to Landson's an' drivin' one of them stakes through under his short ribs." "But can you prove that Landson did it?" said Zen, who had an element of caution in her when her father was concerned. She had a vision of a fight, with Landson pleading entire ignorance of the whole cause of offence, and her father probably summoned by the police for unprovoked assault.
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