"Damnation!" cried he; "you be damned! Civil treetmint i'deed! You're a putty fellur to talk o' civil treetmint, arter jumpin' yur hoss over a man's fence, an' ridin' slap-jam inter his door, 'ithout bein' asked! Let me tell yer, Mister Gilt Buttons, I don't 'low any man--white, black, or Injun--to enter my clarin' 'ithout fust knowin' his reezun. Ye hear that, d'ye?" "_Your_ clearing! Are you sure it is _yours_?" The squatter turned red upon the instant. Rage may have been the passion that brought the colour to his cheeks; but I could perceive that my words had produced another emotion in his mind, which added to the hideousness of the cast at that moment given to his features. "Not my clarin'!" he thundered, with the embellishment of another imprecation--"not my clarin'! Shew me the man, who says it's not!-- shew'm to me! _By_ the Almighty Etarnal he won't say't twice." "Have you _purchased_ it?" "Neer a mind for that, mister; I've _made_ it: that's my style o' purchase, an', by God! it'll stan' good, I reck'n. Consarn yur skin! what hev you got to do wi't anyhow?" "This," I replied, still struggling to keep calm, at the same time taking the title-deeds from my saddle-bags--"this only, Mr Holt. That your house stands upon Section Number 9; that I have bought that section from the United States government; and must therefore demand of you, either to use your _pre-emption, right_, or deliver the land over to me. Here is the government grant--you may examine it, if you feel so inclined." An angry oath was the response, or rather a volley of oaths. "I thort that wur yur bisness," continued the swearer. "I thort so; but jest this time you've kim upon a fool's errand. Durn the government grant! durn your pre-emption right! an' durn yur title-papers too! I don't valley them more'n them thur corn-shucks--I don't. I've got my pre-emption dokyment inside hyur. I'll jest shew ye that, mister; an' see how ye'll like it." The speaker turned back into his cabin, and for a moment I lost sight of him. "Pre-emption document!" he said. Was it possible he had purchased the place, and was gone to fetch his title-deeds? If so-- My reflection was cut short. In another moment he re-appeared in the doorway; not with any papers in his hand--but, instead, a long rifle, that with its butt resting on the door-stoop, stood almost as high as himself? "Now, Mister Turn-me-out?" said he, speaking in a satirical triumphant tone, and raising the piece in front of him, "thur's my title--my pre-emption right's the right o' the rifle. _It's_ clur enuf: ye'll acknowledge that, won't ye?" "No," I replied in a firm voice.