"What do I mean?" said the old man with a feeble roar as from an ancient lion. "I mean that draft--that's what I mean. Give it up or we'll--we'll"--he paused to gain courage by a glance at the formidable figure at his side--"we'll put the screws on you." "Well, I was--I was only borrowin' it for 'bout a month," said George. "Ah," said Tom. George started, glared at Tom, and then began to shiver like an animal with a broken back. There were a few moments of silence. The old man was fumbling about in his mind for more imprecations. George was wilting and turning limp before the glittering orbs of the valiant attorney. The latter, content with the exalted advantage he had gained by the use of the expression "Ah," spoke no more, but continued to stare. "Well," said George, finally, in a weak voice, "I s'pose I can give you a cheque for it, 'though I was only borrowin' it for 'bout a month. I don't think you have treated me fairly, father, with your lawyers and your threats, and all that. But I'll give you the cheque." The old man turned to his attorney. "Well?" he asked. Tom looked at the son and held an impressive debate with himself. "I think we may accept the cheque," he said coldly after a time. George arose and tottered across the room. He drew a cheque that made the attorney's heart come privately into his mouth. As he and his client passed triumphantly out, he turned a last highly legal glare upon George that reduced that individual to a mere paste. On the side-walk the old man went into a spasm of delight and called his attorney all the admiring and endearing names there were to be had. "Lord, how you settled him," he cried ecstatically. They walked slowly back toward Broadway. "The scoundrel," murmured the old man. "I'll never see 'im again. I'll desert 'im. I'll find a nice quiet boarding-place and--" "That's all right," said Tom. "I know one. I'll take you right up," which he did. He came near being happy ever after. The old man lived at advanced rates in the front room at Tom's boarding-house. And the latter basked in the proprietress' smiles, which had a commercial value, and were a great improvement on many we see. The old man, with his quantities of sage bush, thought Thomas owned all the virtues mentioned in high-class literature, and his opinion, too, was of commercial value. Also, he knew a man who knew another man who received an impetus which made him engage Thomas on terms that were highly satisfactory. Then it was that the latter learned he had not succeeded sooner because he did not know a man who knew another man. So it came to pass that Tom grew to be Thomas G. Somebody. He achieved that position in life from which he could hold out for good wines when he went to poor restaurants. His name became entangled with the name of Wilkins in the ownership of vast and valuable tracts of sage bush in Tin Can, Nevada.