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 Peck wanted to know, testily, a color of anger in his face.

"Everything. Didn't you ever hear of this fence?"

"Me? No. Do you expect me to know about every wire fence in the United States? What's a derned old wire fence more or less to me?"

"Let me tell you," said Tippie portentously. "Come on up here."

He led the way to a hilltop that gave them a view of the fence for a considerable distance, where he drew away from the barrier a few rods, stopping among a growth of shrubs that concealed them pretty effectively.

"It's this way," said Tippie. "The man that built that fence built it agin the law. The land he's holdin' inside of it belongs to me, and you, and Rawlins, and every other citizen of this country that ain't ever used up his homestead right. But we can't go in there and take it. Why? Because that robber inside of that fence says 'No.' He don't give any reason, he ain't got no law nor right back of him, but he says 'No.

"What's to keep you out, then?" Peck asked, contemptuous of the valor of such men.

"Fellers ridin' up and down inside of that fence with pump-guns. That's all. No law behind 'em, no right. Nothing but power and bluff. There's never been a man come into Dry Wood big enough to break the cast-iron cinch Jim Galloway's got on that land inside of his fence. We're looking for that man."

"Huh! You don't expect me to do it?" said Peck.

"I don't," Tippie admitted, "but Edith does. That's your test. I bring all of her mail-order fellers up here and put it up to 'em the same way I've put it up to