meet them.

Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference--he meant to
have them.

"What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy--at a reasonable
figure."

The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.

"Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
trifle of seven thousand dollars--"

The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
he did not move a muscle.

"You did your work well, Pedro," he said, allowing himself, for the
first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
such a sum in such a short space of time. "I'll treat you well. Two
thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
go?"

"Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around."

The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.

Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
at a certain page.

"You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?"

The other suggested a figure much below the real value.

"It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,"
Lablache said expansively. "I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
see," pointing to the entries. "I hold thirty-five thousand on first
mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
get not one cent of your money."

The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of "Lord" Bill's ranch.
Mancha shifted