The main thing is, let's not get excited and do
something rash. Those boys--"
"Not excited?--and somebody jumping--our--ranch?" Phoebe's soft
eyes gleamed at him. She was pale, so that her face had a
peculiar, ivory tint.
"Now, now!" Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly.
"Let's keep cool--that's half the battle won. Keep cool." He
reached for his pipe, got out his twisted leather tobacco pouch,
and opened it with a twirl of his thumb and finger.
"You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger," Peaceful turned to him, still
helpless in his manner. "What's the best thing to be done?"
"Don't--get--excited." Baumberger nodded his head for every
word. "That's what I always say when a client comes to me all
worked up. We'll go down there and see just how much there is to
this, and--order 'em off. Calmly, calmly! No violence--no
threats--just tell 'em firmly and quietly to leave." He stuffed
his pipe carefully, pressing down the tobacco with the tip of a
finger. "Then," he added with slow emphasis, "if they don't go,
after--say twenty-four hours' notice--why, we'll proceed to serve
an injunction.
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