sure need it.
What's runnin' now ain't no use to us. We got to have more."

"No doubt about that, Tom," said Casey. "We'll ride up to their
infernal dam and see just what's doing."

"Good enough!" cried McHale, his eyes lighting up. "But say, Casey,
them ditch-and-dam boys ain't no meek-and-lowly outfit. Some of 'em is
plumb hard-faced. How'd it be if I scattered back to the ranch first. I
ain't packed a gun steady since I got to be a hayseed, but----"

"What do you want of a gun? We're just going to look at things and have
a talk with Farwell."

"You never know when you'll need a gun," McHale asserted, as an
incontrovertible general proposition.

"You won't need it this time. Come along."

It was almost midday when they came in sight of the construction camp
beside the dam. To their surprise, a barbed wire fence had been thrown
around it, enclosing an area of some twenty acres. On the trail, a
space had been left for a gate, but it had not yet been hung. Beside it
stood a post bearing a notice board, and, sitting with his back against
the post, a man rested, smoking. As they came up, he rose and sauntered
into the trail between the gate-posts.

"Hey you, hold on there!" he said.

Dunne and McHale pulled up.

"Look a-here, friend," said the latter, "do you think you're one of
them never-sag gates, or a mountain, or what? You want to see a doctor
about them delusions. They'll sure get you into trouble some day."

"That'll be all right about me," the big guardian of the gate returned.
"Just read that notice. This is private property."

They read it. It was of the "no-admittance" variety, and forbade
entrance to all individuals not in the company's employ.

"We've got business here, and we're going in," said Casey, and began to
walk his horse forward.

The man caught the bridle with one hand. The other he thrust into his
pocket.

"You get back now," he ordered, "or you'll walk home."

Dunne stopped instantly. His companion's hand made one lightninglike
motion, and perforce came up empty.

"And this," said Mr. McHale mournfully--"this was the time I didn't
need a gun!"

"Well, you don't need it, do you?" said Casey. "Observe, the gentleman
still keeps his sawed-off yeggman's delight in his pocket. Pull it,
friend, pull it! Don't scorch the cloth by pressing the trigger where
it is. Steady, Shiner, while the gentleman shoots you!"

The guardian smiled sardonically. "Amuse yourselves, boys, but don't