hold a man to turn over his
homestead after it's proved up," he said. "Half of them would keep
their land."

"Of course," she agreed. "But then you'd have half instead of nothing
at all. Do you want the world?"

"I want you!" he said. "Throw in with me, girl. I'm going to fight
these nesters off--the Three Bar among the rest if you don't quit.
I'll smash the Three Bar into mincemeat unless you run this damned
Harris off and quit this game."

It was the first time Slade had ever threatened. Her spirits had
soared over the prospects of the Three Bar and she was suddenly afraid
for her brand if Slade, who had whittled down a dozen outfits at once,
should suddenly turn his whole attention to the Three Bar.

"I've got it to do," Slade stated. "Since you've started this deal
there's been nesters filed papers on every good site in my range,
waiting to rush in as soon as I lose my grip. Do you think I'll let
them crowd me out? Not in a thousand years! I'm telling you--I'll
break the Three Bar if you keep it up."

"All right!" she said. "And what about the homestead laws?"

"I'm the law out here," he asserted.

It came to her that Slade was fighting on the defensive, that he feared
to let the Three Bar succeed and set up a precedent in defiance of the
signs that dotted the range.

"Then it's war!" she said. "And you'll go under yourself, from your
own size, if you haven't the judgment to hedge yourself now like the
rest. The Three Bar is going ahead--and we're going to win."

She turned her horse but Slade caught her arm and whirled her around.
He jerked a thumb at the two men down the ridge.

"What can Deane, a half-baked boy, give you?" he demanded. "Money--and
trinkets to hang all over you till you flash like a Mexican's bridle; a
flower garden and a soft front lawn to range in--and after a year or
two you'd give your soul to trade it off for an acre of raw sage.
You'd trade a castle full of glittering chandeliers for one hour at the
round-up fire--your box at the opera for a seat on the ground with your
back against the chuck-wagon wheel while the boys sang just one old
song. I know! You'd soon get fed up on too much of that. You want an
outfit of your own. I'll give you that--the biggest in the State."

She shook her head without answering.

"Then I'll break you," he predicted a second time. He drew a folded
slip of paper from his pocket and held it out to her. "That's the
exchange slip,"