In the soft mud the big ditching machine would eat its way forward at the rate of half a mile a day--a week should suffice to put the main ditches through. As soon as the surface water was off, Higgins planned for a system of short lateral ditches running at intervals into the two branches of the V. Thus every portion of the thousand-acre tract would be subject to thorough drainage. Following the drainage of the surface water the underground seepage would run off as a matter of course. Garman apparently was as good as his word. Each morning Payne awoke expecting to find that his fence had been cut during the night, but so far the wire remained unmolested. "That proves that Garman is boss of the whole country, cattlemen and all," said Payne one morning. "The cowman that I whipped intended to come back." "If something had not interfered he'd have been back that night with a gang. He was so mad it must have taken something awfully strong to stop him, and that means it was Garman." "Yes," agreed Higgins; "but I wouldn't exactly look on him as a bosom friend, if I were you." "Pooh! I'm not fooled a bit by him. He's simply playing with me--or trying to do it. Well, we'll try to be right here, still doing business, when the game is over." One morning a negro from the brushing crew came running up to Payne's tent in great excitement. "Boss, boss! Trouble in the jungle oveh dah. White man driving colored boys away with rifle." Payne followed the excited man and found that the machetes of the black gang, hacking a space in the heart of the jungle, had exposed an old clearing containing a tumble down shack. A tall, gnarled man with long hair and beard stood before the door of the shack, a Winchester held in his hands in businesslike fashion. Behind him hovered a young woman, who must have been refined and beautiful once, but who now was slatternly, and two children. Payne called out, "Good morning, neighbor, what seems to be the difficulty?" and started toward the shack. The man with the rifle did not reply. He merely raised the weapon till the sights were full against Roger's breast. The young man stopped. "Don't shoot, Cal; please don't shoot!" whimpered the woman. "They're too many for you." "Shut up!" growled the man. "Git in the house." "Put down your gun," shouted Payne. "Tell me your trouble. My boys been bothering you?" "You're a-botherin' me," retorted the cracker. "You cal'late to run me off my place here. Well, I ain't a-going."