DEVITT had not failed, as he approached, to note the way in which the ranch buildings commanded the passage through the Gap.  This was something he should have been told.  Why had Wheeler failed to tell him?

The slits in the rock walls were ports for shooting, and he could see at a glance that if it came to that sort of fighting, two men could hold the Gap against fifty.  His jaw muscles tensed as he saw the figure of Clay Bell standing carelessly outside the gate, waiting.

Then he saw Colleen Riley, and he swore under his breath.  What possessed the girl to come out here at a time like this?

Devitt drew up some twenty yards from Bell.  "We're scouting a route into the Deep Creek timber," he said.  "Can we get our sawmill through here?"

"This way is closed."

"So?"  Devitt placed his hands on the pommel.  "You undertake to block a public road?  A stage route?"

Clay Bell took his time, rolling a fresh smoke before he spoke.  He wanted to take time enough for more of his riders to appear.  Also, he could see that Devitt was impatient.

"The stage stopped using this route fifteen years ago, and the road goes through Tinkersville now.  Nobody has been allowed through here since I took over, without express permission."

Devitt was coldly angry.  It irritated him that Colleen must be standing there to see him frustrated.  "You take a lot on yourself, Bell.  You're just a squatter here.  You ranchers try to control the entire range without the slightest legal right."

Clay smiled and put the cigarette between his lips.  Deliberately, he stalled.  "You're a smart man, Devitt.  You should have looked into my land titles before you started this move.  I've filed on this claim and proved up on it.  I own all the land in Emigrant Gap, lock, stock, and barrel.

"Also," he added, "I own over a hundred acres at the foot of the Pass.  You'll not cross over my land with any logging equipment whatever, now or later."

Jud Devitt sat very still in his saddle.  For the moment he was beaten, and he tried to think of some way to save face until he could circumvent this move.  Noble Wheeler should have told him of this.  At the same time, he appreciated a good blow.  Clay Bell was shrewd, and Devitt could see no mere show of force would bluff the man.

"You deny me right-of-way?  You can't do it, Bell.  A man has a right of access to his property.  Legally, you haven't a leg to stand on."

Clay drew deep on his cigarette.  The wagons hauling Devitt's machinery were drawing nearer.  "Possession has its legal points, Devitt.  And I'm in possession.  Also, I'm grazing cattle on Deep Creek range.  Sorry, Devitt, you've tried to stack the cards on the wrong man."

Jud Devitt's patience was wearing thin.  "What," he asked harshly, "if we force a way?"

Bob Tripp glanced quickly at Devitt, his lips forming a protest.  Devitt was bull-headed sometimes and might not realize what he was facing.

"You won't," Bell replied shortly.  "You try to force a way in and you'll have to come shooting."

"There's four of us - one of you."

"Yes."

Jud Devitt studied the man before him.  His impatience drove him, and he was angered to have a man standing between himself and the job he meant to do.  His every urge was to drive through, to ride the man down and press on.  He had three tough men with him, and all were armed.  Behind, others came.  Yet something held him back.

It was the man himself.

It was Clay Bell, and something in his manner.  Bell was neither alarmed nor excited.  He gave no indication of any emotion.  He just waited for Devitt to move.