"Dirt?" Gilbert said, not understanding. "Yes, look!" And the old man pointed to the bag. "But whose bag is it?" Gilbert persisted. Uncle Henry lifted a thin finger and directed it to Pell. "His'n!" he said. But Gilbert was still in a daze. "But what in the world could anybody be taking specimens of the soil around here for?" he inquired, and then began to think. "Just to show the character of the ground, to see what will grow best," Pell hastened to explain. "But it won't grow nothin'--not even rocks, an' you know it," the occupant of the wheel chair said. Then a new thought came to him, and he shot out, "By golly, I got it! He's an oil man, ain't he?" Pell, furious, cried, "Oh, shut up! You old busybody!" "He wants to buy this ranch because there's oil here!" Uncle Henry went on, not dismayed in the least at the other's insult. "Bah!" Pell scornfully ejaculated. Gilbert's face was a study. His eyes went from one to another in the room. "Oil?" he said. "Oil?" "Yes, an' that's why _he_ wants it, too!" cried Uncle Henry, pointing to Hardy this time, "The big skin!" Pell took up the satchel--the little bag that had caused such a big sensation--and walked over to Uncle Henry's chair. "Why, you poor old dotard, there's no oil in these specimens. You can smell 'em yourself if you want to," he said. But there was something in his manner of the lady who doth protest too much. "No, I can't," Uncle Henry was swift to deny. "My smeller's no good." He sniffed comically--as if that proved his point. "Let _him_ examine them, then," suggested Pell, holding the satchel out to Gilbert, who stood on the other side of the table. But Gilbert said nothing. It was Uncle Henry who again blurted out: "That don't prove nothin'. Mebbe he hasn't found the oil yet. But it's here! If it ain't, why should you be fightin' so hard to get this rotten place? Tell me that, will you? Nobody else ever wanted it--except this kindly neighbor of ours!" He glared at Hardy triumphantly. Pell was silent. Gilbert came to himself. "Oil!" he said. "Then this ranch, instead of being worth nothing, would be worth hundreds of thousand of dollars--maybe millions!" He had taken the bag from Pell's extended hand, and now turned in dismay and confusion to the window, and put the bag on a chair. What a world it was, and how terrible that every other man seemed to be a predatory animal, ready to spring upon his neighbor and wrest anything he had away from him. What a world, indeed! No wonder young men lost their faith and courage! "Millions!" The word caught Uncle Henry's fancy and imagination. He rolled it over on his tongue again and again. "Millions!" He babbled it, he played with it. "Millions!" "Yes!" Gilbert said. "Think of that!" He turned and faced the others once more.