Dug pushed the whisky bottle at him as a set-off to his own uncontrolled mirth, and in a few moments contrived to subdue his paroxysms sufficiently to start the business in hand. "Now, Masters," he said, as soon as the diminutive Elias had ministered adequately to his glass, "we've got a curious proposition to set before you. It's jest one of them things which crops up in a country like this, where a whole heap o' the laws happens along through custom. An' like all sech customs, ther's li'ble to be a tarnation lot of friction lyin' around if we can't get a right settlement. Now, if we go to the courts it's goin' to be a mighty big scrap, eatin' up a hell of a pile of dollars. An' if you're wise to the ways of the law fellers you ken just about figger the verdict is goin' to come along to the feller with the biggest wad. In this case I guess I'm the feller with the biggest wad. Now, ther's no sort o' bad blood between Peters an' me, 'cep' it is he will sing hymns outrageous on a Sunday. Still, I ain't goin' to let that cut no ice. I'm out for a square decision between us by a feller that don't know the meanin' of graft. I don't care a cuss who gets it. But I ain't goin' to be bluffed by any fancy legal readings of a position by city lawyers who don't know the north end of a steer goin' south from the cluckin' proposition of a blind hen motherin' a litter o' dormice. Peters here'll give you his case, seein' he's plaintiff, in an elegant flow of warm air, an' when he's through I'll sort of hand you a counterblast. An' when we finished you'll hand out your dope on the subject, that is if we ain't talked you into a home for incurable arbitrators. You'll get busy right away, Peters." The rancher's manner was irresistible in its breezy frankness and generosity. Jeff wondered at him. Any man of modern business methods, he felt, would have jumped at the advantage which his wealth would have given him in the law courts over so insignificant a person as Elias Peters. The whole situation inspired in him the feeling that he was in the presence of a really big man. A man who deserved every fraction of his success. Nor was there any doubt as to the little gray man's feelings as he took a drink of whisky, and fixed his small eyes upon the weather and years-lined features of his adversary. "Guess you've made me feel 'bout as big as an under-fed skitter," he complained. "You make me sort o' feel I want to tell you to keep your darn grazin' rights till I ken hand you a bunch of bills such as I'd like to pass on to an honest man. But I don't guess I'm goin' to do it. Y'see, I just can't afford it. If I can't graze my stock on your grass they got to starve, or I got to get out. An', seein' I doped all my wad into this lay-out, it 'ud well-nigh mean ruin to act that way." Then he turned to Jeff, who was almost bewildered at the curious attitude toward each other of these men.