"That would be squarer, and more to my liking, than hiring somebody else to do it for you, Mr. Chadron. Ride on--I don't want to stand here and quarrel with you." "I'm goin' to clear you nesters out of there up the river"--Chadron waved his hand in the direction of which he spoke--"and put a stop to your rustlin' before another month rolls around. I've stood your fences up there on my land as long as I'm goin' to!" "I've never had a chance to tell you before, Mr. Chadron"--Macdonald spoke as respectfully as his deep detestation of the cattleman would allow--"but if you've got any other charge to bring against me except that of homesteading, bring it in a court. I'm ready to face you on it, any day." "I carry my court right here with me," said Chadron, patting his revolver. "I deny its jurisdiction," Macdonald returned, drawing himself up, a flash of defiance in his clear eyes. Chadron jerked his head in expression of lofty disdain. "Go on! Git out of my sight!" he ordered. "The road is open to you," Macdonald replied. "I'm not goin' to turn my back on you till you're out of sight!" Chadron bent his great owlish brows in a scowl, laid his hand on his revolver and whirled his horse in the direction that Macdonald was facing. Macdonald did not answer. He turned from Chadron, something in his act of going that told the cattleman he was above so mean suspicion on his part. Nola shifted her horse to let him pass, her elbows tight at her sides, scorn in her lively eyes. Again Macdonald's hand went to his hat in respectful salute, and again he saw that flash of anger spread in the young woman's cheeks. Her fury blazed in her eyes as she looked at him a moment, and a dull color mounted in his own face as he beheld her foolish and unjustified pride. Macdonald would have passed her then, but she spurred her horse upon him with sudden-breaking temper, forcing him to spring back quickly to the roadside to escape being trampled. Before he could collect himself in his astonishment, she struck him a whistling blow with her long-thonged quirt across the face. "You dog!" she said, her clenched little white teeth showing in her parted lips. Macdonald caught the bridle and pushed her horse back to its haunches, and she, in her reckless anger, struck him across the hand in sharp quick blows. Her conduct was comparable to nothing but that of an ill-bred child striking one whose situation, he has been told, is the warrant of his inferiority. The struggle was over in a few seconds, and Macdonald stood free of the little fury, a red welt across his cheek, the back of his hand cut until the blood oozed through the skin in heavy black drops. Chadron had not moved a hand to interfere on either side. Only now that the foolish display of Nola's temper was done he rocked in his saddle and shook the empty landscape with his loud, coarse laugh.