otel, in San Lorenzo. The old man, with the
hayseed in his hair, and the stains of bitumen upon his gnarled hands,
ate and drank of the best, seeing a glorified vision of his Lily
crowned with diamonds at last. The vision faded somewhat when
Nathaniel began to talk dollars and cents. Even to Uncle Jap, unversed
in such high matters as finance, it seemed plain that Leveson &
Company were to have the dollars, and that to him, the star-spangled
epitome of Yankee grit and get-there were to be apportioned the cents.

"Lemme see," he said, with the slow, puzzled intonation of the man who
does not understand; "I own this yere oil----"

"Subject to the mortgage, Mr. Panel, I believe?"

"That don't amount to shucks," said Uncle Jap.

"Quite so. Forgive me for interrupting you."

"I own this yere oil-field, lake I call it, and, bar the mortgage,
it's bin paid for with the sweat of my--soul."

He brought out the word with such startling emphasis, that Nathaniel
nearly upset the glass of fine old cognac which he was raising to his
lips.

"Yas, my soul," continued Uncle Jap, meditatively. "I risked
everything I'd got. Man," he leant across the gaily decorated table,
with its crystal, its pink shades, its pretty flowers, and compelled
his host to meet his flaming eyes,--"man, I risked my wife's love and
respect. And," he drew a deep breath, "by God, I was justified. I got
there. If I hadn't," the fire died down in his mild blue eyes, and the
thin body seemed to wither and shrink,--"if I hadn't struck it, it
would hev killed her, the finest lady in the land, an' me too. It was
nip an' tuck with both of us. And now," his voice warmed into life
again,--"and now you offer me fifty thousand dollars."

"I am anxious to treat you right, Mr. Panel. Another glass of brandy?
No. Between ourselves the market is getting weaker every day. Fifty
thousand profit, perhaps, may seem a small sum to you, but I cannot
offer more. You are at perfect liberty to refuse my cheque; others,
perhaps----"

Uncle Jap rose up grim and gaunt.

"I've ate dinner with you," he murmured, "so I'll say nothing more
than 'thank you' and 'good-bye.'"

"Good-bye, Mr. Panel. At any time, if you have reason to change your
mind, I shall be glad to talk business with you."

Uncle Jap returned to his own hotel to pass a restless night. Next day
he sought a certain rich man who had a huge ranch in our county. The
rich man, let us call him Dives, had eaten Uncle Ja