Faith rode homeward at an unwonted pace. She had always regarded that mountain, supposed to be worthless, as part of her property. Godfrey French, she now remembered more clearly, had once indicated it as within her boundaries. Now that it was valuable, it appeared that Braden claimed it. It might be true, but it was strange.

Her husband met her as she clattered up to the corrals. It was his habit to lift her from the saddle. For a moment he held her above his head as if she had been a child, kissed her and set her on her feet gently. His eyes went to the pony's sweating coat.

"Just finding out that old Doughnuts can travel when he has to?" The pony owed his name to that far-off episode of their first meeting.

"I was in a hurry. Did I ride him too hard?"

"No, did him good." He loosened the cinches, stripped off saddle and bridle and dismissed Doughnuts with a friendly slap for a luxurious roll. "What was the hurry, old girl? Has somebody been breaking into Dry Lodge?"

"No, no; all right there. But Angus, such a strange thing has happened. They've found coal in that round mountain!"

"Coal!" he exclaimed.

Swiftly, words tumbling over one another so that much had to be repeated, she related her experiences. As she spoke, mentioning the names of Garland, of Poole, and finally of Braden, she saw his face cloud and darken. The frank, genial lights of love and laughter left his eyes; they became hard, brooding, watchful.

"Well," she asked, "what do you think? Isn't that my property—our property?"

"I supposed so from what you told me, but I never knew where your lines ran. How did you know your boundaries?"

"I didn't really know them, I'm afraid. Uncle Godfrey just generally indicated where they were, from the house. But I know he said that hill was inside them."

"Your deeds would show; but Judge Riley has sent them away to be registered. I don't remember the description in them."

"But couldn't we find the corner-posts if the land was surveyed?"

"Perhaps it wasn't surveyed. Surveys are usually up to the purchaser. Your land is part of a larger block owned by Braden. I think he owns land on both sides of it. He got it for about fifty cents an acre, and he got the Tetreau place for next to nothing. The description in the deed would give a starting point, then so many chains that way and so many another, and it would work out to the acreage, but no actual survey may have been made."

In fact the only means of determining the actual boundaries were the deeds themselves, which were temporarily inaccessible.

"I'll go over the ground to-morrow anyway," Angus said, "and look for a line. And I'll see what these fellows are doing."

"Oh, I forgot! This Garland told me nobody was to be allowed on the ground. Those were his instructions."

"They were, were they. It's easy to give instructions. I believe Garland and Poole had something to do with my ditch. They're just the sort Braden could hire to do a thing like that. And now they're in charge of this coal prospect! There's something queer about it. I wonder if that was why your uncle was trying to buy you out?"

"Why," she exclaimed, startled, "surely you don't think he knew of this coal! Oh, he couldn't!"

"It looks to me like a reasonable explanation."

"But if it is my land, how can Mr. Braden say it's his?"

"I don't know," Angus replied, "but I do know that Braden will do anything he thinks he can get away with."

Early the following morning Angus and Rennie rode away. The latter, to Angus' surprise, was wearing a gun.

"What do you want that for?" Angus asked.

"I don't know," Rennie replied, "but I know if I need her she's going to be there. This claim-jumpin' is as risky as foolin' with another man's wife. You never can tell."

"But we're not going to jump them."

"All right. But maybe they'll take a notion to jump us. I don't aim to be crowded by no dam' rock-gang like Braden 'd hire for a job he thought there might be trouble about."

They found the boundaries of the old Tetreau holding without difficulty, and with these for a base began to prospect for others. After a long search they found what appeared to be an old line which had been cut through brush, but new growth had almost choked it.

"She was run a long time ago," Rennie decided. "Longer 'n when your wife's pa bought all this scenery. It looks to me like she might be the line of the block Braden owns."

"We can take a sight and see where the line hits the mountain," Angus suggested.

They took a rough sight, with stakes set as nearly as possible in the center of the old line, and they found that the line, produced, would strike to the northwest of the round mountain. Therefore if this line was the northwestern boundary of Faith's land, it would include the coal deposit claimed by Braden.

"Braden skins his hand mighty close before he puts down a bet," said Rennie. "If he's openin' up a prospect, he's likely organized to back her. My tumtum is to wait till you get them deeds back and then have a survey made, or, anyway, see Riley."

"We can go and have a look at what they're doing, and hear what they have to say. I like Braden's nerve, giving orders to keep people off. What the devil does he think this country is? If there wasn't something crooked about the thing he wouldn't mind who took a look at it. I'm going to have a look, anyway."

They rode toward the mountain, eventually striking into the trail which Faith had followed on the preceding day. As they approached they could hear the sounds of work in progress, and suddenly they came upon a man planting posts. A roll of wire lay on the ground. The man stepped into the trail.

"Hold on," he said. "You can't go any further."

"Is that so?" said Rennie. "The trail looks like it went some farther."

"Well, you don't," the other retorted. "Them's orders."

"Whose orders?" Angus asked, crowding forward.

"The boss'—Braden."

"Braden be damned!" said Angus. "Get out of the way. Give me the trail, you, or I'll ride plum' over you!" As he spoke he touched his horse with the heel, and the guardian of the trail gave ground, cursing, but followed them as they rode out on the bench and into the presence of a group of three—Braden, Garland and Poole.

Angus halted, and without paying the least attention to them, took in his surroundings. Then he shifted his gaze to the trio, eying them in a silence which was broken by Mr. Braden.

"What do you want here?" he demanded, in a voice which he endeavored to make stern.

"To see what you're doing on what I think is my wife's property."

Mr. Braden laughed.

"Your wife's property! Not much. Her land—if you mean what I sold to her father—lies east of here. This is mine. I bought it from the government fifteen years ago."

Mr. Braden's tone was loud, assertive. But his eyes, after a moment, shifted away from Angus' steady stare.

"You're lying!" the latter said.

"Lying, am I?" Braden snarled. "You'd better be careful what you say, young man. This is my land, and I have the grant. Your wife has her deeds, hasn't she? Take a look at them before you come here shooting off your mouth."

Obviously, that was the thing to do.

"Why were you and French trying to buy my wife's property?" Angus bluffed.

"I don't know anything about French," Mr. Braden asserted, "but I never tried to buy your wife's property. It has nothing to do with this. I gave the deeds of what I sold her father, to French, as his agent. I don't know whether he tried to buy it from her or not, and I don't care."

Angus felt that he was up against a blank wall. The deeds alone would settle the question conclusively. But possibly Braden held the erroneous idea that the deeds had been lost or destroyed. He knew that French had held them unregistered. He might think that Faith could not produce evidence of ownership.

"In case you have any doubt about it," Angus said, "I may tell you that French gave the deeds to my wife before he died."

But Mr. Braden merely grinned. "Well, read them," he said. "And keep off my property after this."

"You seem fairly anxious about that," Angus retorted. "You're trying to put something over, Braden, and I give you notice to be careful. I've had my satisfy of your dirty work."

"And I give you notice to keep off my property," Mr. Braden snarled. "You get off now, or I'll have my men throw you off!"

Angus laughed, his temper beginning to stir.

"Tell 'em to go to it!" he challenged. "You old crook, you've been trying to get me ever since I was a kid. You thought you'd get my ranch, and you came mighty near it. I'll play even with you some day, and with the bunch you hired last summer to blow my ditch. Do you get that, Garland, and you, Poole?"

"I don't know what you mean?" Garland returned.

"I never done nothing to you," Mr. Poole declared nervously.

Angus eyed them grimly. "It's lucky for both of you I'm not sure," he said.

But the dispute had attracted the attention of the workmen. They rested on their tools, watching, listening curiously. The presence of these reserves gave Mr. Braden heart.

"Get out of here!" he shouted, his voice shrill with nervous rage. "Get off my property, and stay off! Talk about your ranch! Yours? Bah! Bought in by a remittance man that's chasing your sister! Hi, boys! run these fellows out!"

The men started forward, and Angus recognized the leader as the big Swede who had once been handled so roughly by Gavin French. But Mr. Braden's taunt, his reference to Chetwood and Jean, had cut deep. Suddenly his temper, already smouldering hotly, burst into flame. He left his saddle with a vaulting spring, and as he touched the ground leaped for Mr. Braden. His hand shot out and fastened upon his shoulder.

Mr. Braden uttered a cry like the squeal of a rat beneath an owl's claws. Angus jerked him forward, and drew back his right fist. But something, perhaps the age or lack of condition of the man, restrained him. "You old skunk!" he gritted; and releasing the shoulder opened his right hand and swung it wide, stiff-armed. His palm cracked against Mr. Braden's cheek and ear with a report like a pistol, knocking him flat.

But the man who had followed them from the trail sprang upon Angus from behind, trying for the small of the back with his knees. The shock drove Angus into Garland. The three became a locked mass. Suddenly it disintegrated. Garland staggered back, his hands to his face. The guardian of the trail, torn from his hold, was lifted and hurled upon the earth. Poole, stooping as Angus freed himself, caught up a rock. Garland, his face covered with blood, was reaching beneath his coat.

"Drop that rock!" Rennie roared. "Nick Garland, h'ist your hands!" Gun in hand he menaced the oncoming rush of men. "Keep back there!" he rasped. "Drop them mucksticks! You big Swede with that hammer, I got my eye on you. Hands up, the bunch! Sky 'em. Now—freeze!"

The commotion was suddenly stilled. The little man on the horse dominated the situation. His gun menaced, controlled.

Mr. Braden quavered shrill denunciation.

"I'll have you arrested!" he threatened, his hand to his injured cheek. "Assault! Trespass! Threatening with deadly weapons! We'll see what the law has to say about this!"

"Well, don't overlook this here little statute I got in my hand," Rennie warned him. "This is one law you can't make work crooked for you."

Garland cursed, shaking his fist. "If you want gun law you'll get it!" he threatened.

"I will, hey!" Rennie retorted. "I been wise some time to that shoulder gun you pack under your coat, and I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll get down off'n this cayuse and put up both hands empty and let you get your hands on your gun butt. And then I'll bust your arm while you're drawin'! How'd that suit you, you dam' four-flush?"

But Garland did not see fit to accept the challenge. Rennie eyed him with contempt. "I guess bushwhackin' 's about your limit," he said; "and I dunno' 's you pack the nerve for that. Come on, Angus, let's go!"

When they were down the trail and riding side by side Rennie shook his head.

"Now maybe you see how handy a gun can come in. But all that didn't do no good. Your wife either owns the property or she don't, and the way Braden talked, he seemed to be mighty sure about it. If I was you I'd go and see Judge Riley."

Angus did so the next day.

"If you had come in yesterday instead of going off half-cocked," the judge told him severely, "I could have shown you the deeds. They came back some days ago. The only thing to do is to get Barnes or somebody to make a survey and see what its boundaries are."

Angus hunted up Barnes, the local surveyor, and drove him out to Faith's ranch. The place of beginning named in the deed was with reference to the eastern corner of the large block owned by Braden. Thence Barnes ran his line west until according to the wording of the deed he reached the spot which should be the easterly corner of Faith's property. Planting a post there he continued to work west. Reaching the spot which according to the description was the southwest corner, he turned off his angle to work north. Angus peered through the instrument, noting where the cross-hairs notched upon the landscape.

"Are you sure this is right?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Barnes replied somewhat tartly. "If you think I don't know my business you can get somebody else."

"Then," said Angus, "this survey won't take in that round mountain at all?"

"Not a foot of it," Barnes replied. "The line will run just by its east base."

And when the survey was completed it was evident that Faith's deeds gave her no title whatever to the land claimed by Mr. Braden. The deeds were conclusive; Barnes' survey accurate. Suspicions amounted to nothing.