A shadow appeared on the doorsill; and Morgan Pell came in. His face was harder than ever. It was obvious that he had not thrown away the bottle of tequila until he had consumed the contents. His eye lit on Hardy at once, but he said nothing to him. Instead, he meandered toward Gilbert and observed, insolently enough: "Look here, you've kept me waiting too long. What does this mean, eh?" "I'm sorry," Gilbert returned. "I forgot all about you for the moment. Oh," he suddenly remembered that Hardy and Pell were unacquainted, "you two gentlemen ought to know each other. Mr. Pell, shake hands with Mr. Hardy." Pell gave the other a curt nod. "How are you?" was all he could bring himself to say. "Pleased to meet you," answered Hardy, and turned away, "Red" and Angela, interested spectators of this foolish proceeding, sat together on the little settee by the window near the door, and smiled at the shillyshallying of two grown men who should have known better. Civilization! A mockery, surely, when two men couldn't be amenable in the presence of others--two men who apparently had no reason for treating each other this way. Pell suddenly addressed Jones. "I forgot to tell you that we're going this afternoon." "I'm sorry," said his host. "And before I go," Pell went on, "there's a matter of business I want to talk over with you. So if this gentleman is through--" he indicated Hardy with his thumb. "Oh, I'll be through, all right--at eight o'clock to-night!" Jasper Hardy announced, and drew several silver dollars out of his trousers pocket and rattled them about in his hand, significantly. "What do you mean, eight o'clock?" Pell wondered. Hardy's eyes pierced him through and through. "When I foreclose the mortgage I hold on this ranch. Understand now?" "When you foreclose...." Pell repeated the words as if he had not quite comprehended. Then he said to young Jones: "You said this ranch belongs to you?" What was the matter with him? Was his mind clouding? The stuff he had drunk? He put his hand to his forehead. "It does," Gilbert explained. "You see, it isn't eight o'clock yet." A faint smile came to his lips. Hardy failed to see the humor of the situation. "It's as good as eight o'clock, as far as he's concerned." And he rattled the silver coins again. "Oh, is that so?" said Pell, beginning to see daylight. To young Jones he said: "How far is it to town?" "Twenty miles, I should say." Pell thought a second, "Is that flivver of yours working, Jones?" "In a way." Pell thought harder. "We've got plenty of time," he said, as if to himself. "Five hours! Get your hat," turning to the young man. Gilbert was confused. "What's the idea?" "We're going to pay the mortgage, of course. How much is it?" "Shouldn't you have asked that first--as a good business man?" "Answer me: how much is it?" "Ten thousand dollars," came the quick response. "And your equity?" Pell pursued, businesslike enough now. "Another ten thousand."