trary to that anticipated by Master Holt. It was
no doubt his design to awe me; but he little knew the man he had to deal
with. Whether it might be called courage or not, I was just as reckless
of life as he. I had exposed my person too often, both in single combat
and on the battle-field, to be cowed by a bully--such as I fancied this
fellow to be--and the spirit of resistance was fast rising within me.
His dictatorial style was unendurable; and discarding all further
prudential considerations, I resolved to submit to it no longer. I did
not give way to idle recrimination. Perhaps, thought I, a firm tone may
suit my purpose better; and, in my reply, I adopted it. Before I could
answer his question, however, he had repeated it in a still more peevish
and impatient manner--with an additional epithet of insult. "Wal,
Mister Jaybird," said he, "be quick 'bout it! What d'ye want wi' _me_?"

"In the first place Mr Hickman Holt, I want civil treatment from you;
and secondly--"

I was not permitted to finish my speech. I was interrupted by an
exclamation--a horrid oath--that came fiercely hissing from the lips of
the squatter.

"Damnation!" cried he; "you be damned! Civil treetmint i'deed! You're
a putty fellur to talk o' civil treetmint, arter jumpin' yur hoss over a
man's fence, an' ridin' slap-jam inter his door, 'ithout bein' asked!
Let me tell yer, Mister Gilt Buttons, I don't 'low any man--white,
black, or Injun--to enter my clarin' 'ithout fust knowin' his reezun.
Ye hear that, d'ye?"

"_Your_ clearing! Are you sure it is _yours_?"

The squatter turned red upon the instant. Rage may have been the
passion that brought the colour to his cheeks; but I could perceive that
my words had produced another emotion in his mind, which added to the
hideousness of the cast at that moment given to his features.

"Not my clarin'!" he thundered, with the embellishment of another
imprecation--"not my clarin'! Shew me the man, who says it's not!--
shew'm to me! _By_ the Almighty Etarnal he won't say't twice."

"Have you _purchased_ it?"

"Neer a mind for that, mister; I've _made_ it: that's my style o'
purchase, an', by God! it'll stan' good, I reck'n. Consarn yur skin!
what hev you got to do wi't anyhow?"

"This," I replied, still struggling to keep calm, at the same time
taking the title-deeds from my saddle-bags--"this only, Mr Holt. That
your house stands upon Section Number 9; that I have bought that secti