"A hundred and fifty-one!" the cautious Hardy added.
The face of Lopez was a study; but they were so excited that they did not
look at him. Angela rushed to her father and clasped his arm when she
heard his last raise. "That's right, father. Don't let him get it!"
"Don't worry," he reassured her, and patted her little hand, so warm on his
arm. He turned to Pell. "You city fellers needn't think you can come down
here and put it all over us."
"Nevertheless," said Morgan Pell, "I'll just bid a hundred and seventy-five
thousand."
"Then I'll make it a hundred and eighty!" his antagonist stated.
Quick as a flash, "A hundred and ninety," Pell said.
"Two hundred, by darn!" yelled Hardy, furious now.
"Two hundred and--" Pell began; when Lopez, to their amazement, rapped on
the table with his gun, as though he were an auctioneer and this his gavel,
"Senors!" he shouted. "It is enough!"
Everyone was dumbfounded, "Enough?" Hardy inquired, unbelieving.
"Too much!" Lopez explained.
"What's the idea?" Pell, shrewder than before, wanted to know. His brow
contracted. So there was a fly in the ointment, after all!
"Ze idea, my friend, is zis," Lopez calmly stated.
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