"I'm sure you are, but you can't take precautions for other people. Has
anybody been puttin' you up to any trouble here?"

"Well, no, I can't exactly say trouble," said Transley, "but we've got
notice it's coming. A chap named Grant, foreman, I think, for Landson,
down the valley, rode over last night, and invited us not to cut any hay
hereabouts. He was very courteous, and all that, but he had the manner
of a man who'd go quite a distance in a pinch."

"What did you tell him?"

"Told him I was working for Y.D., and then asked him to stay for
supper."

"Did he stay?" Zen asked.

"He did not. He cantered off back, courteous as he came. And this
morning we went out on the job, and have cut all day, and nothing has
happened."

"I guess he found you were not to be bluffed," said Zen, and Transley
could not prevent a flush of pleasure at her compliment. "Of course
Landson has no real claim to the hay, has he, Dad?"

"Of course not. I reckon them'll be his stacks we saw down the valley.
Well, I'm not wantin' to rob him of the fruit of his labor, an' if
he keeps calm perhaps we'll let him have what he has cut, but if he
don't--" Y.D.'s face hardened with the set of a man accustomed to fight,
and win, his own battles. "I think we'll just stick around a day or two