night.

"The haymakin' is all off, Darter," he said. "We will trek back to the
Y.D. as soon as you feel fit. The steers will have to take chances next
winter."

The girl professed her fitness to make the trip at once, and indeed they
did make it that very day. Y.D. pressed Grant to remain for breakfast,
and Tompkins, notwithstanding the demoralization of equipment and
supplies effected by the fire, again excelled himself. After breakfast
the old rancher found occasion for a word with Grant.

"You know how it is, Grant," he said. "There's a couple of things that
ain't explained, an' perhaps it's as well all round not to press for
opinions. I don't know how the iron stakes got in my meadow, an' you
don't know how the fire got in yours. But I give you Y.D.'s word--which
goes at par except in a cattle trade--" and Y.D. laughed cordially at
his own limitations--"I give you my word that I don't know any more
about the fire than you do."

"And I don't know anything more about the stakes than you do," returned
Grant.

"Well, then, let it stand at that. But mind," he added, with returning
heat, "I'm not committin' myself to anythin' in advance. This grass'll
grow again next year, an' by heavens if I want it I'll cut it! No son of
a sheep herder can bluff Y.D!"

Grant did not reply. He had heard enough of Y.D.'s boisterous nature to
make some allowances.

"An' mind I mean it," continued Y.D., whose chagrin over being baffled
out of a thousand tons of hay overrode, temporarily at least, his
appreciation of Grant's services. "Mind, I mean it. No monkey-doodles
next season, young man."

Obviously Y.D. was becoming worked up, and it seemed to Grant that the
time had come to speak.

"There will be none," he said, quietly. "If you come over the hills to
cut the South Y.D. next summer I will personally escort you home again."

Y.D. stood open-mouthed. It was preposterous that this young upstart
foreman on a second-rate ranch like Landson's should deliberately defy
him.

"You see, Y.D.," continued Grant, with provoking calmness, "I've seen
the papers. You've run a big bluff in this country. You've occupied
rather more territory than was coming to you. In a word, you've been a
good bit of a bully. Now--let me break it to you gently--those good old
days are over. In future you're going to stay on your own side of the
line. If you crowd over you'll be pushed back. You have no more right
to the hay in this valley than you have