"One can readily see where Link gets his temper from," was Phil's
comment. "He is nothing but a chip of the old block."
"I am sorry that Mr. Merwell is my neighbor," came from Mr. Endicott.
"But it can't be helped, so we'll have to make the best of it. My
advice is, while you are out here, keep off his lands, and if he annoys
you in any way, let me know."
"We'll have to learn what his lands are," said the senator's son.
"Todd and the others can readily tell you about that, and about
Merwell's cattle, too. But come, we have wasted too much time already.
You'll all be wanting supper long before we reach the ranch."
Old Jerry had gone ahead with the wagon, and now the others followed
along the road taken by the turnout and by Mr. Merwell. It was a winding
trail, leading up and down over the hills and through a dense patch of
timber. Two miles from the station they had to cross a fair-sized stream
by way of a bridge that was far from firm.
"We've got to have a new bridge here some day," said Mr. Endicott. "I am
willing to bear my share of the expense, but Merwell won't put up a
cent. He doesn't go in for improvements."
"He seems to like good horseflesh," remarked Phil.
"That was one of his best mounts. His horses aren't half as good as
those we have; eh, Todd?"
"No better bosses in these parts than those at the Star," answered the
cowboy.
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