y trying to hold our place for mineral land!"
Phoebe's indignation was cumulative always, and was now bubbling into
wrath. "Why, my grief! Thomas spent one whole summer washing every
likely spot around here. He never got anything better than colors on
this ranch--and you can get them anywhere in Idaho, almost. And to come
right into our garden, in the right--and stake a placer claim!" Her
anger seemed beyond further utterance. "The idea!" she finished weakly.

"Well--but we mustn't let ourselves get excited," soothed Baumberger,
the shadow of him falling darkly upon Peaceful and Phoebe as he strode
along, upon the side next the sun. Peppajee would have called that an
evil thing, portending much trouble and black treachery.

"That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A little
cool-headedness goes farther than hard words or lead. And," he added
cheeringly, "it may be a false alarm, remember. We won't borrow trouble.
We'll just make sure of our ground, first thing we do."

"It's always easy enough to be calm over the other fellow's trouble,"
said Phoebe sharply, irritated in an indefinable way by the oily
optimism of the other. "It ain't your ox that's gored, Mr. Baumberger."

They skirted the double row of grapevines, picked their way over a spot
lately flooded from the ditch, which they crossed upon two planks laid
side by side, went through an end of the currant patch, made a detour
around a small jungle of gooseberry bushes, and so came in sight of the
strawberry patch and what was taking place near the lightning-scarred
apricot tree. Baumberger lengthened his stride, and so reached the spot
first.

The boys were grouped belligerently in the strawberry patch, just
outside a line of new stakes, freshly driven in the ground. Beyond that
line stood a man facing them with a.45-.70 balanced in the hollow of
his arm. In the background stood three other men in open spaces in the
shrubbery, at intervals of ten rods or so, and they also had rifles
rather conspicuously displayed. They were grinning, all three. The man
just over the line was listening while Good Indian spoke; the voice of
Good Indian was even and quiet, as if he were indulging in casual small
talk of the country, but that particular claim-jumper was not smiling.
Even from a distance they could see that he was fidgeting uncomfortably
while he listened, and that his breath was beginning to come jerkily.

"Now, roll your blankets and GIT!" Good I