Good
Injun--"
"Oh!" screamed Evadna suddenly. "Don't let him--don't let them
hurt him, Uncle Hart!"
"Aw, they ain't fightin'," Donny assured her disgustedly.
"They're chewin' the rag down there, is all. Good Injun knows
one of 'em."
Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping
the back of his chair. His lips were working so that his beard
bristled about his mouth.
"They can't do nothing--the ranch belongs to me," he said, his
eyes turning rather helplessly to Baumberger. "I've got my
patent."
"Jumping our ranch!--for placer claims!" Phoebe stood up, leaning
hard upon the table with both hands. "And we've lived here ever
since Clark was a baby!"
"Now, now, let's not get excited over this," soothed Baumberger,
getting out of his chair slowly, like the overfed glutton he was.
He picked up a crisp fragment of biscuit, crunched it between his
teeth, and chewed it slowly. "Can't be anything serious--and if
it is, why--I'm here. A lawyer right on the spot may save a lot
of trouble.
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