claim?
You doddering old tarrapin, you only own one-third of it--and that ain't
yours, by rights. How much do you claim, I say?"

"W'y--I only claim one third," responded Dusty weakly, "but Whiskers, he
claims that I'm entitled to a half----"

"A half!" raged Wunpost, starting back towards the saloon. "I'll show
the old billygoat what he owns!"

He kicked over the bar with savage destructiveness, jerking up a
tent-peg with each brawny hand, and as the old man cowered he dragged
the tent forward until it threatened every moment to come down.

"Git out of here!" he ordered, "git off of my ground! I discovered this
claim and it's located in my name--now git, before I break you in two!"

"Here, here!" broke in Cole Campbell, laying a hand on Wunpost's arm as
the saloon-keeper began suddenly to beg, "let's not have any violence.
What's the trouble?"

"Why, this old spittoon-trammer," began Wunpost in a fury, "has got the
nerve to claim half my ground. I've been beat out of one claim, but this
time it's different--I'll show him who owns this ground!"

"I just claim a quarter of it!" snapped old Whiskers vindictively. "I
claim half of Dusty Rhodes' share. He was working on my grubstake--and
he was with you when you made your strike."

"He was not!" denied Wunpost, "he went off and left me. Did you find his
name on the notice? No, you found John C. Calhoun and Williemeena
Campbell, the girl that loaned me her mule. We're the locators of this
property, and, just to keep the peace, we agreed to give Dusty one
third; but that ain't a half and if you say it is again, out you
go--I'll throw you off my claim!"

"Well, a third, then," screeched Old Whiskers, holding his hands about
his ears, "but for cripes' sake quit jerking that tent! Ain't a third
enough to give me a right to put up my tent on the ground?"

"It is if I say so," replied Wunpost authoritatively, "and if
Williemeena Campbell consents. But git it straight now--we're running
this property and you and Dusty are _nothing_. You're the minority,
see, and if you make a crooked move we'll put you both off the claim.
Can you git that through your head?"

"Well, I guess so," grumbled Whiskers, stooping to straighten up his
bar, and Wunpost winked at the crowd.

"Set 'em up again!" he commanded regally and all Blackwater drank on the
house.

CHAPTER VI

CINCHED

Having established his rights beyond the peradventure of a doubt, the
imperious Wunpost l