"Yes, that's what _I_ said, a few hours ago," grumbled Bunker biting savagely at his mustache, "and I never was so hacked in my life. We went up to this Dave and all pulled our guns and ordered him out of the district, and I'm a dadburned Mexican if he didn't pull _his_ gun and run the whole bunch of us away. He's nervy, there's no use talking; and I promised Mrs. Hill that I'd keep out of these shooting affrays. By grab, it was downright disgraceful!" "That's all right," returned Denver, "he don't look bad to me. You just lend me a gun and----" "He'll kill ye!" warned Bunker, "I know by his eye. He's a killer if ever there was one. So don't go up against him unless you mean business, because you can't run no blazer on _him_!" "Well--oh hell, then," burst out Denver, "what's the use of getting killed! Isn't there anything else we can do? I don't need to eject him because he's got no title, anyway. How about these lead-pencil fellows that haven't done their work for years?" "That's it," explained Bunker, "we were having a meeting when we seen you horn in on Dave. These gentlemen are all men that have held their ground for years and it don't seem right they should lose it. At the same time it'll take something more than a slap on the wrist to make these blasted jumpers let go. They've staked all the good claims and are up doing the work on them and the question is--what can we do?" "I'll tell you what I'll do," spoke up the old prospector vindictively as the crowd surged into the store, "I'll get up on the Leap and shoot down on them jumpers until I chase the last one of 'em off. They can't run no rannikaboo on me!" He wagged his long beard and spat impressively but nobody paid any attention to him. They realized at last that they were up against gun-fighters--men picked for quick shooting and iron nerves and working under the orders of one man. That man was Dave Chatwourth, nominally dismissed by Murray but undoubtedly still in his pay, and until they could devise some plan to eliminate him it was useless to talk of violence. So they resumed their meeting and, as Denver owned a claim, he found himself included in the membership. It was a belated revival of the old-time Miners' Meeting, at one time the supreme law in Western mining camps; and Bunker Hill, as Recorder of the district, presided from his perch on the counter.