"If what you say is true, it is a very awkward, not to say suspicious, situation. Being the only lawyer in Dry Bottom, until the coming of Judge Lindman, I have had occasion many times to consult the record you speak of, and if my memory serves me well, I have noted several times--quite casually, of course, since I have never been directly concerned with the records of the land in your vicinity--that several transfers of title to the original Midland grant have been recorded. Your deed would show, of course, the date of your purchase from Buck Peters, and we shall, perhaps, be able to determine the authenticity of the present record in that manner. But if, as you believe, the records have been tampered with, we are facing a long, hard legal battle which may or may not result in an ultimate victory for us--depending upon the power behind the interests opposed to you." "I'll fight them to the Supreme Court of the United States!" declared Trevison. "I'll fight them with the law or without it!" "I know it," said Graney, with a shrewd glance at the other's grim face. "But be careful not to do anything that will jeopardize your liberty. If those men are what you think they are, they would be only too glad to have you break some law that would give them an excuse to jail you. You couldn't do much fighting then, you know." He got up. "There's a train out of here in about an hour--we'll take it." About six o'clock that morning the two men stepped off the train at Manti. Graney went directly to a hotel, to wash and breakfast, while Trevison, a little tired and hollow-eyed from loss of sleep and excitement, and with a two days' growth of beard on his face, which made him look worse than he actually felt, sought the livery stable where he had left Nigger the night before, mounted the animal and rode rapidly out of town toward the Diamond K. He took a trail that led through the cut where on another morning he had startled the laborers by riding down the wall--Nigger eating up the ground with long, sure, swift strides--passing Pat Carson and his men at a point on the level about a quarter of a mile beyond the cut. He waved a hand to Carson as he flashed by, and something in his manner caused Carson to remark to the engineer of the dinky engine: "Somethin's up wid Trevison ag'in, Murph--he's got a domned mean look in his eye. I'm the onluckiest son-av-a-gun in the worruld, Murph! First I miss seein' this fire-eater bate the face off the big ilephant, Corrigan, an' yisterday I was figgerin' on goin' to town--but didn't; an' I miss seein' that little whiffet of a Braman flyin' through the windy. Do ye's know that there's a feelin' ag'in Corrigan an' the railroad in town, an' thot this mon Trevison is the fuse that wud bust the boom av discontint. I'm beginnin' to feel a little excited meself. Now what do ye suppose that gang av min wid Winchesters was doin', comin' from thot direction this mornin'?" He pointed toward the trail that Trevison was riding.