"Mr. Jones," he began in his harsh lawyer's voice, "don't think for a moment you can bluff me. These men have their orders and at the first show of violence I have told them to shoot you dead. Now regarding this claim, formerly known as the Old Juan, you have no legal right to the same. In the first place, Juan Soto, whom you hired to locate it, is not an American citizen and therefore his claim is void. In the second place the transfer for the nominal sum of ten dollars proves collusion to perpetrate a fraud. And in the third place----" "You're a liar!" broke in Rimrock, his breast heaving with anger, "he's as much a citizen as you are. He's been registered in Gunsight for twenty years and his vote has never been challenged." "Juan Bautista Soto," returned McBain defiantly, "was born in Caborca, Sonora, on the twenty-fourth day of June, eighteen sixty. I have a copy of the records of the parish church to prove he is Mexican-born. And in the third place----" "And in the third place," burst out Rimrock, raising his voice to a yell, "that proves conclusively that you've set out to steal my mine. I don't give a damn for your thirdlys and fourthlys, nor all the laws in the Territory. To hell with a law that lets a coyote like you rob honest men of their mines. This claim is mine and I warn you now--if you don't get off of it, I'll kill you!" He dropped his hand to his pistol and the startled gunmen looked quickly to their captain for a cue. But the captain stood doubtful--there were two sides to the question, and a man will only go so far to earn ten dollars a day. "Now hear me," warned Rimrock as there fell a tense silence, "you get off----" "Shoot that man!" yelled McBain as he sensed what was coming, but Rimrock was over the wall. He knocked it flat with the fury of his charge, striking the gunmen aside as he passed. There was a moment of confusion and then, as McBain turned to run, the bang of Rimrock's gun. Andrew McBain went down, falling forward on his face, and as Rimrock whirled on the startled gunmen they shot blindly and broke for cover. The fight had got beyond them, their hearts were not in it--and they knew that McBain was dead. "You get off my claim!" cried Rimrock as he faced them and instinctively they backed away. That look in his eyes they knew all too well, it was the man-killing berserker rage. Many a time, on foreign battlefields or in the bloody saloon fights of the frontier, they had seen it gleaming in the eyes of some man whom nothing but death would stop. They backed off, fearfully, with their guns at a ready; and when they were clear they ran.