“Bring me a straight,” said the judge, and then, turning to Hugh, he observed, “I have an idee I can tell the time within ten seconds when nine o’ clock comes ‘round. Habit, you know; habit is everythin’ to a sensitive man. Bet yer life it is. You wanted to know somethin’ about sellin’ out land to mortgage companies. Well, this is the way it’s done: all the big farm mortgage companies in the United States are represented by local agents throughout these new counties in southwestern Kansas. They started out makin’ mighty conservative loans, but at enormous rates of interest. After awhile the loan companies got to competin’ with one another for business. Instead of lowerin’ the rate of interest, as they should have done, they offered to take bigger loans; so, instead of loanin’ a man three hundred dollars on a quarter-section of land that he has just proved up and paid the government a dollar and a quarter an acre for, they ‘re loanin’ one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars on every one hundred and sixty acre tract that is offered. If you’ll consult the records you’ll find that from ten to fifteen thousand dollars is loaned daily on land in this ‘ere county alone. It’s a mighty big county, but they’ll have the last quarter-section mortgaged, by and by; the last link in the elephant’s chain ‘ll be broken sooner or later, and then look out for squalls. The mortgage business is what makes money so plenty on the range now, but mark the words of Judge Lynn and profit by ‘em—the time to make hay is when the sun’s a-shinin’. One of these fine days the bottom ‘ll jest nacherally drop out, and there’ll be a wailin’ and gnashin’ of teeth. Do I know anythin’ more worth tellin’. Well, I should say I did. Have n’t begun to uncork yet. Mighty lucky you met me. Bet yer life.” “You amaze me,” said Hugh, “I don’t understand why so much confidence is manifested on every hand if your pessimistic views are correct.” “Mighty easy to explain that,” said the judge, as he ordered another cocktail, “jest as easy as failin’ off a log. You see, ninety per cent, of the people in Meade have come here durin’ the last three years. They’re all tenderfeet and never have experienced a hot wind. Well, for a wonder, this is the third year of roarin’ good crops, but the buffalo-grass is here yet, and as long as it’s in the country these dangnation hot winds are liable to blow. When they come—” and here the judge drained another glass. “As I was sayin’,” he went on, wiping his mouth with his coat sleeve, “when these hot winds do come, they’ll sizzle things up ‘round here into a burnt crisp, like a hot skillet does thin slices of bacon. Bet yer life. Yes, sir! you’ll think it’s a breath from the lower regions for sure, and the hull kit and bilin’ of ‘em will be dumped into a seethin’ sea of bankruptcy, and don’t yer forget it.”