"Well, don't you realize that all I got will eventually go to you and her?
Don't you?"

"It will?" asked the incredulous "Red."

"Certainly; when I die," answered Hardy.

"I hope it'll be soon!" cried out Uncle Henry. Then, to "Red," "Don't you
see he's leading you up to the top o' that gol darn mountain?"

"Red" did not understand. "Gol darn _what_?" he said.

Uncle Henry was exasperated at his stupidity. "Why, he's temptin' you, the
old devil! Don't let him. It's a gol darn shame," he added, turning his
chair so that he faced Hardy, "an old scoundrel like you tryin' to corrupt
a nice young feller like him! Don't you know money you get like that won't
do you no good?"

"It's his--Gilbert Jones's," cried "Red," "and I ain't goin' to be party to
robbin' him of it!"

"Hooray!" yelled Uncle Henry. "That's the boy! I knew you was like that.
You're all right!" And he backed into the alcove, happier than he had been
in a long time.

"You hear that?" Hardy said to his daughter.

"I do," she answered, "and he's right."

"What's that?" said her surprised father.

"It is Gil's, and to take advantage of him isn't fair. You know it as well
as I do, too!" She stamped her little foot.

"Say, you don't think you love him again, do you?" Hardy wanted to know.

From the alcove, Uncle Henry cried: "That's the idea! And if the poor
sucker'd only marry her--"

But Angela interrupted: "It isn't him I care for. It's--" She cut herself
off, and could have bitten out her tongue for thus revealing her heart.

"Angela!" cried the enraptured "Red." He went over to her, grasped her
around the waist, and led her to the window.

Hardy said, trying to pacify his daughter: "But I ain't going to be hard on
him--or on Jones."

"You ain't?" Uncle Henry cried.

Hardy turned to the nephew. "You know, that stuff Lopez said about me bein'
a bum patriot stuck in my craw. And now that I got the place, if you ever
need any help I'll be glad to go on your note for you."

Gilbert said nothing; but Uncle Henry rushed in with, "You will?"

"That is, if it ain't too much," Hardy craftily added.

"How much?" Uncle Henry asked.

"Oh, two hundred dollars," Jasper Hardy grandly said.

"Two hundred dol--Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry wheeled straight through
him.

"Say, where are you goin'?" Hardy cried.

"To Mexico!" Uncle Henry said. "This country's gettin' so it ain't fit to
live in!" And he whirled out of the room.

Hardy turned to