ut of whack; if he moved about it brought the
gripes back. No, they must get along without him.

Magnus, knowing with whom he had to deal, did not urge the point, being
convinced that Annixter would argue over the affair the rest of the
morning. He re-settled himself in the buggy and Harran gathered up the
reins.

"Well," he observed, "you know your business best. Come if you can. We
dine at seven."

"I hear you are going to farm the whole of Los Muertos this season,"
remarked Annixter, with a certain note of challenge in his voice.

"We are thinking of it," replied Magnus.

Annixter grunted scornfully.

"Did you get the message I sent you by Presley?" he began.

Tactless, blunt, and direct, Annixter was quite capable of calling even
Magnus a fool to his face. But before he could proceed, S. Behrman in
his single buggy turned into the gate, and driving leisurely up to the
porch halted on the other side of Magnus's team.

"Good-morning, gentlemen," he remarked, nodding to the two Derricks as
though he had not seen them earlier in the day. "Mr. Annixter, how do
you do?"

"What in hell do YOU want?" demanded Annixter with a stare.

S. Behrman hiccoughed slightly and passed a fat hand over his waistcoat.

"Why, not very much, Mr. Annixter," he replied, ignoring the
belligerency in the young ranchman's voice, "but I will have to lodge
a protest against you, Mr. Annixter, in the matter of keeping your line
fence in repair. The sheep were all over the track last night, this
side the Long Trestle, and I am afraid they have seriously disturbed our
ballast along there. We--the railroad--can't fence along our right of
way. The farmers have the prescriptive right of that, so we have to look
to you to keep your fence in repair. I am sorry, but I shall have to
protest----" Annixter returned to the hammock and stretched himself out
in it to his full length, remarking tranquilly:

"Go to the devil!"

"It is as much to your interest as to ours that the safety of the
public----"

"You heard what I said. Go to the devil!"

"That all may show obstinacy, Mr. Annixter, but----"

Suddenly Annixter jumped up again and came to the edge of the porch; his
face flamed scarlet to the roots of his stiff yellow hair. He thrust out
his jaw aggressively, clenching his teeth.

"You," he vociferated, "I'll tell you what you are. You're a--a--a PIP!"

To his mind it was the last insult, the most outrageous calumny. He had
no worse e