"Almost everything, Bub: sheet steel, machinery, batteries, cases of glass, and Lord knows what all. It's been going on ever since he landed there. He has a bunch of Indians working for him and he don't let a white man on the place." Forced to be satisfied with this meager information, I started old Lizzie and lit out for the ranch. After I had turned off the main trail I met no one until the ranch house was in sight. As I rounded a bend in the road which brought me in sight of the building, I was forced to put on my brakes at top speed to avoid running into a chain which was stretched across the road. An Indian armed with a Winchester rifle stood behind it, and when I stopped he came up and asked my business. "My business is with Dr. Livermore," I said tartly. "You got letter?" he inquired. "No," I answered. "No ketchum letter, no ketchum Doctor," he replied, and walked stolidly back to his post. "This is absurd," I shouted, and drove Lizzie up to the chain. I saw that it was merely hooked to a ring at the end, and I climbed out and started to take it down. A thirty-thirty bullet embedded itself in the post an inch or two from my head, and I changed my mind about taking down that chain. "No ketchum letter, no ketchum Doctor," said the Indian laconically as he pumped another shell into his gun. * * * * * I was balked, until I noticed a pair of telephone wires running from the house to the tree to which one end of the chain was fastened. "Is that a telephone to the house?" I demanded. The Indian grunted an assent. "Dr. Livermore telephoned me to come and see him," I said. "Can't I call him up and see if he still wants to see me?" The Indian debated the question with himself for a minute and then nodded a doubtful assent. I cranked the old coffee mill type of telephone which I found, and presently heard the voice of Dr. Livermore. "This is Tom Faber, Doctor," I said. "The _Graphic_ sent me up to get a story from you, but there's an Indian here who started to murder me when I tried to get past your barricade." "Good for him," chuckled the Doctor. "I heard the shot, but didn't know that he was shooting at you. Tell him to talk to me." The Indian took the telephone at my bidding and listened for a minute. "You go in," he agreed when he hung up the receiver. He took down the chain and I drove on up to the house, to find the Doctor waiting for me on the veranda. "Hello, Tom," he greeted me heartily. "So you had trouble with my guard, did you?" "I nearly got murdered," I said ruefully.