, "The big skin!"

Pell took up the satchel--the little bag that had caused such a big
sensation--and walked over to Uncle Henry's chair.

"Why, you poor old dotard, there's no oil in these specimens. You can smell
'em yourself if you want to," he said. But there was something in his
manner of the lady who doth protest too much.

"No, I can't," Uncle Henry was swift to deny. "My smeller's no good." He
sniffed comically--as if that proved his point.

"Let _him_ examine them, then," suggested Pell, holding the satchel out to
Gilbert, who stood on the other side of the table.

But Gilbert said nothing. It was Uncle Henry who again blurted out:

"That don't prove nothin'. Mebbe he hasn't found the oil yet. But it's
here! If it ain't, why should you be fightin' so hard to get this rotten
place? Tell me that, will you? Nobody else ever wanted it--except this
kindly neighbor of ours!" He glared at Hardy triumphantly.

Pell was silent. Gilbert came to himself.

"Oil!" he said. "Then this ranch, instead of being worth nothing, would be
worth hundreds of thousand of dollars--maybe millions!" He had taken the
bag from Pell's extended hand, and now turned in dismay and confusion to
the window, and put the bag on a chair. What a world it was, and how
terrible that every other man seemed to be a predatory animal, ready to
spring upon his neighbor and wrest anything he had away from him. What a
world, indeed! No wonder young men lost their faith and courage!

"Millions!" The word caught Uncle Henry's fancy and imagination. He rolled
it over on his tongue again and again. "Millions!" He babbled it, he played
with it. "Millions!"

"Yes!" Gilbert said. "Think of that!" He turned and faced the others once
more.

"An' we're goin' to get skinned out of millions! Oh, my Gawd!" The poor old
invalid wailed it out, and rocked himself in his chair. How he wished he
could rise, step out on the floor and knock Pell and Hardy down! Why didn't
his strong and husky young nephew do it? What was the matter with the
present generation, anyhow? Wasn't there any red blood in it? If he had
only been younger, and strong, able to fight for what he knew to be his
rights! But here he was, tied down in a wheel chair, trapped, helpless,
impotent.

Pell was getting nervous, "This is nonsense," he said. "There's no oil
here."

During all this long harangue, Lucia had quietly come down the stairs, and
now stood directly behind her husband.

"And th