Yet he found, a little to his own amazement, that he could look upon the theft with entire calmness. The fact was that it did not seem to concern him deeply. His emotions were a throb from the memory of Annette in his arms. He recalled little else of the meeting. She had been in his arms. And now his arms ached for her again with a poignance which made all other things insignificant. "Well?" said Higgins. "Going to let 'em do it?" "Do what, Hig?" "Going to let them drag you into court and beat you because they've got possession of your land?" "It takes thinking over," mused Roger. "It takes fighting, that's what it takes," retorted Higgins. "We've got to roust those hard guys out of there before they take root and put up buildings. Some one's got to chase out to Citrus Grove and burn the wires up for about twenty tough fighting men to be delivered at Citrus Grove as quick as the trains will bring 'em. Twenty fighting men, and twenty riot pump-guns, and a dark night, and I'll kick that bunch off the place and have the place back in your own hands by daylight." Roger laughed sharply. "What's the matter?" demanded Higgins, "got a better idea?" "Higgins, if you think Garman has left our back door open you don't half appreciate what the man is. When were the ox teams due?" "Whew!" Higgins whistled. "That's so; this is the day for 'em to show up. They've been due since daylight." "And they've never missed their weekly schedule so far. Ox teams are slow, Higgins, but they're darn sure." "You think Garman's cut us off then?" "Higgins, if you'd studied Garman half as hard as I have you'd know he wouldn't fail to do just that thing." At dark Blease came noiselessly to Roger's tent to substantiate this deduction. He had followed craftily after the party which he and Higgins had driven northward from the camp, and had found them encamped on Coon Hammock, across the ox trail, a scant mile from the camp. Roger lay on his cot that night calmly appraising his situation. To the south of the camp Garman's henchmen were in possession of his land. To the eastward lay the trackless waters of the Everglades through which only the Seminoles cared to find a way; on the west--the only way out was through Garman's grounds which meant there was no way at all. Northward there was the ox trail, now closed, and the ghastly mud of the Devil's Playground. Garman's trap was quite complete. Roger wondered when Garman would see fit to bring its jaws together.