"From what my frand tell me, I can see now 'ow you make your money," the bandit told Hardy. "You are a robber." This was too much for Hardy--for any man with a spark of manhood left in him. "I am not!" he denied. "I'm a business man." "You are a loan fish," the bandit pressed. "A what?" "A loan fish! You loan money. And when ze people cannot pay, you convict zem and take zeir ranchos." The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation. "Well, if they can't pay, it isn't my fault," was all he could say. "It isn't zeir fault, too, is it?" Lopez was curious to know. "What's that?" Hardy said. "So you take ze rancho from my friend, Senor Jones. A nice sort of neighbor you are, you beeg fish!" "I'm not to blame because he's a rotten business man, am I?" Hardy tried to set himself right. Lopez looked at him scornfully. "How do you know 'e is a rotten business man?" "Why, the fact that I've had to foreclose the mortgage shows that," Hardy smiled. "Not at all. Senor Jones 'ave been away to war. He been away fighting for 'is country." "Well, that isn't my fault." "No." There was profound contempt in the little word. "He give up 'is business to go away to fight to save you, while you stay be'ind to rob 'im. Is zat fair?" Hardy gave a gesture of disdain. "I'm not talking about what's fair, or what's not fair. There's lots of things in this world that ain't right. I am doing only what the law allows." He thought this cleared his skirts. It was the refuge of every scoundrel. "I do not speak about ze law," Lopez followed him up. "I am doing only what is fair. If I were you, I should be ashamed for myself! You love your country?" "Certainly I do," the other answered. "Like 'ell! You love yourself!" And Lopez deliberately turned his back on him. "Now, wait a minute!" Hardy begged. He could scarcely have this insult added to the host of others. "I do love my country. I'm a good American." "Yet you would rob ze man who fight for your country! Bah!" The bandit waved his hand in disgust. Hardy saw he was in a bad hole. "There's some truth in what you said," he admitted, trying to crawl out. "He _has_ fought for America. And I'm willing to do the right thing by him." "You will?" yelled Uncle Henry, wheeling close to him. "If I get this place, I'm willing to give him a good bonus," Hardy continued. Uncle Henry leaned forward, all eagerness. "How much?" he cried. "Say, five hundred dollars," the loan shark generously offered. "I knew there was a ketch in it!" Uncle Henry said, and rolled back in the shadows of the alcove. Lopez had been listening intently. Now he stepped up to Hardy and said: "Senor Santy Claus, now I understand why it is so 'ard for your country to get ze soldier. In Mexico, ze soldiers would take all ze money and give ze people a bonus ... per'aps." He puffed his cigarette. "I am done wiz you." He turned abruptly to Lucia. "Now I shall come to you." She started. "You love my frand, Senor Jones?"