"I have no need to do so, sir," rejoined the Colonel with dignity. "I have owned this rancho for twenty years."
"It doesn't matter if you have owned it for two hundred," retorted the man. "This particular corner is not yours."
The Colonel checked his reply and rode away. After all, it was beneath his dignity to quarrel with the fellow; and, besides, he looked sick. His claim was absurd, of course. Nevertheless, the Colonel next day instructed lawyer Stanley to investigate. La Corona del Monte was part of an original Spanish grant, and Spanish grants were notoriously uncertain. The grantee was given so many leagues in a given direction. He and the surveyor determined the boundaries almost by guess, and marked them by trees, small piles of rock, or even a "steer's skull." Property overlapped or left gaps. At first, when the country was pastoral, and there were no fences, this did not particularly matter; but later it resulted in a great mass of litigation. Lawyer Stanley reported that the mouth of Ramon Cañon might by a stretch of the law be considered one of these gaps and so open to entry. But it was only by a stretch of the law, and he expressed the further opinion that the claim could be easily upset. The squatter problem was at that period a great and growing nuisance. These sagebrushers, as they were called, established themselves where they pleased, if they considered themselves strong enough. Already, in the North there had been several squatter wars. Therefore the Colonel instructed Stanley to go ahead; and promptly dismissed the whole matter from his mind.
That was of a Tuesday. On Wednesday the Colonel, riding abroad, surmounted a hill to see below him on the flat a group of cattle weaving restlessly back and forth, their heads up, and all facing in the same direction. The Colonel knew well the symptoms. The half wild creatures saw something unaccustomed, and they could not make up their minds whether to rush it or to run away. The object of their curiosity might be one of the ranch dogs, or perhaps a coyote or bobcat, or—almost inconceivably—a man on foot. Almost inconceivably, because no man but knew the habits of range cattle. The latter, gentle as possible with horsemen, became fierce and dangerous when the rider dismounted. So the Colonel, more in idleness than in
