For all of the old man’s talk there was plenty to do on the Diamond-Bar. The men were back from the Rock, but early the following morning big Hobe had sent them off on various tasks so that life on the ranch moved as usual. Before noon Tony arrived. Molly’s eyes opened as she saw who it was that led her pony into the yard. A dozen questions leaped to her mind. She even looked about for Johnny. What could the Basque be doing here? Five minutes of heated conversation with Tony told her what she wanted to know. “As long as I live,” she advised him, “I shall never again trust a Basque. That Johnny wronged you unintentionally doesn’t enter into it. He thought so much of you. You were pals. Humph, pals! A pal sticks right or wrong.” Molly turned back to the house. “I hope your horse throws you and breaks your wretched neck,” she hurled at him for a parting shot. Tony winced. He had received more than he had bargained for, but he was game. He clucked his tongue to show his utter contempt for Johnny Dice. Infuriated, Molly slammed the door behind her. The old man had seen this pass-at-arms, and although he had heard no word of it, he could guess what had been said. He promised himself that it was only the beginning. Before he was through Molly would be thoroughly disillusioned as far as Johnny Dice was concerned. Noontime brought two visitors to the Diamond-Bar—Aaron Gallup and his “man Friday,” Tobias Gale. Aaron made a business of loaning money at six or seven per cent on first mortgages. Tobias saw to the details, such little matters as the rate, for instance. He was a Dickensian character, humble to self-effacement, but always driving a hard bargain. More than one rancher in Ruby Valley had cause to regret Tobias. The man moved in an aura of gloom. His was a funereal appearance, clothes of ancient cut, once black, but long since faded to a dull bottle-green. His coming to a ranch-house was equivalent to the visit of the undertaker. No one knew his age, but if it were to be guessed from his wrinkled, mummified face one would have put him down for eighty. Tobias was a usurer, intended from birth for his present calling. Old Aaron had given him his opportunity and he rewarded the coroner with faithful service. Gallup no longer rode in a saddle. He had a weatherbeaten old buckboard and a pair of mean-eyed mustangs to get him about. This turnout, when not in use by Aaron, served Tobias. So the rig and its span of ponies came to be associated with bad luck, hard times and overdue interest money. That is, it did when only one of the precious pair adorned it. Whenever Aaron and Tobias appeared together it meant more than overdue payments; it spelled foreclosure! Jackson Kent thought of this as he caught sight of the two men. “Howdy!” Gallup called as he pulled up his team. “What are you two birds of prey doin’ here today?” Kent called jestingly as he walked out to the rig. “Ain’t come to foreclose?”