Pell suddenly addressed Jones. "I forgot to tell you that we're going this
afternoon."
"I'm sorry," said his host.
"And before I go," Pell went on, "there's a matter of business I want to
talk over with you. So if this gentleman is through--" he indicated Hardy
with his thumb.
"Oh, I'll be through, all right--at eight o'clock to-night!" Jasper Hardy
announced, and drew several silver dollars out of his trousers pocket and
rattled them about in his hand, significantly.
"What do you mean, eight o'clock?" Pell wondered.
Hardy's eyes pierced him through and through. "When I foreclose the
mortgage I hold on this ranch. Understand now?"
"When you foreclose...." Pell repeated the words as if he had not quite
comprehended. Then he said to young Jones: "You said this ranch belongs to
you?" What was the matter with him? Was his mind clouding? The stuff he had
drunk? He put his hand to his forehead.
"It does," Gilbert explained. "You see, it isn't eight o'clock yet." A
faint smile came to his lips.
Hardy failed to see the humor of the situation. "It's as good as eight
o'clock, as far as he's concerned." And he rattled the silver coins again.
"Oh, is that so?" said Pell, beginning to see daylight.
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