Allen laughed at this long speech and placed a chair for his visitor. "You'd like a drink, I know," he said, ringing the bell. "Milk only," said Parkins, hitching up the knees of his trousers, and casting his mighty bulk into the deep chair; "I don't hold with wine, or whisky, or tea, or coffee, or anything of that sort. My nerves are my own, I guess, and all I've got to hang on to, for the making of bargains. I'm not going to play Sally-in-our-Alley with them. No, sir, I guess not. Give me the cow's brew." So a glass of milk was brought, and Mr. Parkins was made happy. "I suppose you don't smoke, then?" said Allen, amused. "You bet--a pipe." He produced a short clay and filled it. "I'm of the opinion of that old chap in _Westward Ho_, if you know the book?" "I haven't read it for years." "Y'ought to. I read it every year, same as I do my Bible. Had I my way, sir," he emphasised with his pipe, "I'd give every English boy a copy of that glorious book to show him what a man should be." "You're English, I believe, Mr. Parkins?" "Born, but not bred so. Fact is, my mother and father didn't go well in double harness, so mother stopped at home with Mark, and I lighted out Westward-ho with father. You'd never take me for Mark's brother?" "I should think not. You're a big man and he's small: you talk with a Yankee accent, and he speaks pure English. He's----" "Different to me in every way. That's a fact. I'm a naturalised citizen of the U.S.A. and Mark's a Britisher. We've met only once, twice, and again, Mr. Hill, but get on very well. There's only two of us alive of the Parkins gang, so I guess we'd best be friendly, till we marry and rear the next generation. I'm going to hitch up with an English girl, and Mark--if I can persuade him--will marry an American dollar heiress. Yes, sir, we'll square accounts with the motherland that way." All the time Parkins talked, he pulled at his pipe, and enveloped himself in a cloud of smoke. But his keen blue eyes were constantly on Allen's face, and finally he stretched out a huge hand. "I guess I've taken to you, some," said he, "catch on, and we'll be friends." "Oh," said Allen, grasping the hand, "I'm sure we shall. I like Mark." "Well then, just you like the American side of him, which is Horace Parkins. I guess we'll drop the misters and get to business, Hill." "I'm ready. What do you want to see me about?" "Well, Mark wrote to me as you'd got a mine of sorts, and wanted a capitalist. I'm not a millionaire, but I can shell out a few dollars, if y'think you can get the property cheap." "Oh, I think so. The Spaniard that owns it wants money and isn't very sure of its value." "Tell me about that right along."