Though the presentation of claims, under the authority of the New York government, to the land which Seth Beeman occupied by virtue of a title derived from the Governor of New Hampshire, had for some time been expected and resistance fully determined upon, Seth’s heart was as hot with anger and heavy with anxiety as if invasion had come without warning. Tenacious of his rights, he yet hated strife and contention. Nor could he foresee whether he must lose the home he had wrought with toil and privation out of the savage wilderness, or whether, after a sharp, brief contest, he would be left in peaceable possession of it, or whether he could then hold it only by continued resistance.

Nathan had not been long away when he shouldered his axe and hastened toward the house. When it came in view, between the tall pillars of tree trunks that paled the verge of the clearing, the rough-walled dwelling had never looked more homelike nor better worth keeping. It had overcome the strangeness of new occupancy and settled to its place. The logs had begun to gather again the moss that they lost when they ceased to be trees. Wild vines, trained to tamer ways, clambered about the doorway and deep-set windows, beneath which beds of native and alien posies, carefully tended, alike flourished in the virgin soil. The young garden stuff was promising, and the broader expanse of fall-sown wheat, grown tall enough to toss in the wind, made a rippling green sea of the clearing, with islands of blackened stumps jutting here and there above the surface. The place had outgrown its uncouth newness and transient camp-like appearance and become a home to cling to and defend.

“What is it, Seth?” asked Ruth, coming to greet him at the door, her smile fading as she saw his troubled face.

“The Yorkers have come.” And then he explained Nathan’s mission. “Our folks’ll come to help as soon as they can, but the Yorkers’ll get here first. Look a there,” and, following his eyes, Ruth saw the surveyor’s party approaching the border of the clearing, just as the Beemans passed into the house.

“It won’t come to that, will it?” she asked, in a low, awed voice, as Seth took down his gun.

“I hope not, but I want the gun out of their reach and where I can get it handy. There ain’t a bullet or buckshot in the house,” he declared, after examining the empty bullet pouch. “Give me some beans. They’re good enough for Yorkers.”

As he spoke he measured a charge of powder into the long barrel, rammed a tow wad upon it, poured in a half handful of the beans that Ruth brought him in a gourd, rammed down another wad, put priming in the pan, clapped down the hammer, then mounted half way up the ladder that served as a stair, laid the gun on the floor of the upper room, and was down at the door when the surveyor led his party to it. He saluted the party civilly, and, upon demand, gave his name.

“Well, Mr. Beeman,” began the surveyor, in a pompous tone, “I sent your son to bring you to me, but it seems you did not please to come.”

“No,” said Seth quietly; “it does not please me to leave my affairs at the beck and call of every stranger that comes this way.”

“Well, sir, I’d have you understand that I am Marmaduke Felton, duly appointed and licensed as a surveyor of His Majesty’s lands within his province of New York. Furthermore, be it known, I have come here in the regular discharge of the duties of my office, to fix the bounds of land purchased by my client, Mr. Erastus Graves,” bowing to the person, “of the original grantees, with patent from His Excellency the Governor, who alone has authority to grant these lands. I find you, sir, established on these same lands belonging to my client. What have you to say for yourself? By what pretended right have you made occupation of lands belonging to my client?”

“I have to say for myself,” Seth answered, in a steady voice, “that I bought this pitch of the original proprietors, and I have their deed, duly signed and sealed. They got their charter of His Excellency Benning Wentworth, His Majesty’s Governor of the Province of New Hampshire.”

“Your title is not worth the paper it’s written on,” scoffed Mr. Felton. “Governor Wentworth has no more authority to grant lands than I have. Not a whit. The east bounds of New York are fixed by royal decree at the west bank of Connecticut River, as everybody knows, and Wentworth’s grants this side that limit are null and void. No doubt you have acted in good faith, but now there’s nothing for you but to vacate these betterments forthwith; yes, forthwith, if you will take the advice of a friend,” and the little man regaled himself with a pinch of snuff.

“I shall not go till I am forced to,” Seth answered with determination. “When it comes to force both parties may take a hand in the game.”

“Very well, very well! I have given you friendly advice; if you do not choose to take it the consequences be on your own head. Come, Graves; come, men, let us go about our present affairs;” adding, after some talk with Graves, “We shall be back to spend the night with you, Mr. Beeman. You cannot refuse Mr. Graves the shelter of his own house.”

Seth flushed with anger, but answered steadily: “I can’t help it, but you will not be welcome.”

The men who had been idling about, taking little interest in the parley, now followed their employers back to the woods, trampling through the young wheat in their course.

“I wish you a pleasant night on’t,” said Seth under his breath, and turned to reassure his wife. “Don’t be frightened, my girl. They won’t get us out of here. Keep a stout heart and wait.”

With a quieter heart she went about her household affairs, while her husband busied himself nearby, weeding the garden and giving to his wife’s posy beds the awkward care of unaccustomed hands. He often stopped his employment to listen and intently scan the border of the woods. The shadows of the trees were stretching far across the clearing when an owl hooted solemnly in the nearest woods on the bank of the creek, and, presently, another answered farther away.

“Do hear the owls hootin’, and it’s clear as a bell,” said Ruth at the door, looking up to the cloudless sky. “It can’t be it’s a-going to storm.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if it did,” said Seth with a mirthless laugh. “Where was that nighest hoot?”

As he spoke the solemn hollow notes were repeated, and some crows began to wheel and caw above the spot, marking it plainly enough to the eye and ear, and he set forth in the direction at a quick pace.

“Why don’t Nathan come home?” little Martha asked. “I hain’t seen him all day. I wish he’d come. He’ll get ketched in the storm.”

“Oh, don’t worry, deary,” said her mother after she had watched her husband disappear in the thickening shadow of the woods. “We might as well eat, for there’s no telling when father’ll be back.” They were not half through the meal before he came, and, as he took his seat at the table, he said with a deep sigh of relief: “I’m afeard our York friends won’t enjoy their lodgin’s overmuch. The owls are round pretty thick to-night.”

“Well, I guess they’ve ben talking to you,” said Ruth, as her face lighted with a comprehension of his meaning.

“Can owls talk?” Martha asked, agape with wonder.

“Well, the old knowing ones. Owls are turrible knowing creatur’s,” her father said.

The twilight possessing the woods had scarcely invaded the clearing when the surveyor and his party came to the house, bringing in blankets, provisions, guns, tools, and instruments, till the one small room was crowded with them and the uninvited guests. Felton and Graves made themselves offensively and officiously at home. The cook took possession of the fire, and set two frying-pans of pork sputtering grease upon the tidy hearth, to the disgust of the housewife, who sat with her husband and child in a dark corner. At last Felton brought forth a bottle of spirits from his leathern portmanteau and drank to Graves.

“Here’s to your speedy installment in your rightful possessions. Now, help yourself, and give the men their tot.”

Graves stood filling his measure of grog in the tin cup, grinning with satisfaction, when a loud knock came on the door.