The next morning at breakfast Noah Ezekiel remarked:
"I wonder where that skunk got the money."
"What skunk and what money?" Bob was pouring sirup on a pancake, a
product of much patience both on his part and the Chinese cook's.
"Jenkins." Noah answered both questions in one word. "Not long ago he
had to borrow a dime for a doughnut. Last night he was at the Red Owl
gambling with both fists. And I heard he's bought altogether ten
thousand acres in leases. 'Verily,' as dad used to say, 'the sinner
flourisheth like a thorn tree.'"
"Do you know if he has bought Chandler's?" Bob asked, casually, not
meeting Noah's eye.
"No, but I reckon he will. He seems out for a clean-up."
"If you see the Chandlers," suggested Rogeen, "advise them not to sell."
Noah Ezekiel reached for the towel to wipe his mouth, and shook his
head.
"I ain't strong on giving advice. I believe in doin' as you'd be done
by, and most all the advice I ever got was as hard to take as castor
oil. Advice is like givin' a dog ipecac--it may break him of suckin'
eggs, but it sure is hard on the dog."
Bob laughed and got up and started to work.
The first Saturday in June Rogeen and Noah quit at noon, for the rush
was over.
"I reckon," Noah insinuated, suavely, "if you are feelin' right good I
might strike you for another five to-night."
"Certainly," said Bob. "But look here, Noah, you ought not to gamble
away your wages."
Noah Ezekiel pulled a long face.
"You sound like my dad. And I ain't fully persuaded you are enough of
a saint to preach."
"You are incorrigible, Zeke," Bob laughed. "And I think I'll go with
you to-night to the Red Owl."
Noah shook his head. "I wouldn't advise it. Gamblin' ain't to be
recommended to employers. It's liable to put wages in japordy."
"I am not going to gamble," said Bob. "I am looking for a man--a
couple of them, in fact."
Reedy Jenkins had returned to his office about two o'clock after making
a complete circuit of his leases. The crop looked fine--so everybody
told him. He knew little about cotton, but Ah Sing was a wonderful
farmer--he knew how to handle the Chinese labourer.
Then he looked at his watch and frowned. He wished that blankety-blank
Mexican would be more prompt in keeping his appointments. He wanted to
get away. He was to drive to El Centro for a visit with Mrs. Barnett
and then to-night he would return for a little recreation across the
line.
It was nearly four when Madrigal finally appeared, wearing an expensive
white summer suit and a jaunty straw hat. "He is a handsome devil,"
thought Reedy, eying him with disfavour because of his lateness. The
Mexican took off his straw hat attached to a buttonhole by a silk cord,
and pushed up his black pompadoured hair.
"Have you got the Chandler ranch yet?" Jenkins came directly to the
point.
"Not yet, senor." Madrigal's bold, dark eyes smiled with supreme
confidence. "Not yet--but soon."
The Mexican stood up and returned his hat to his head. He put up his
hands as though strumming a guitar, turned up his eyes languishingly,
and hummed a flirting air.
"If this, senor," he said, breaking off, "does not win the senorita, we
will try--what you call hem--direct action. You shall have your ranch,
never fear."
"And that damned Rogeen--what of him?"
The Mexican smiled sinisterly. "He get news tonight that make heem
lose much sleep.
"Now may I trouble Senor Jenkins for fifty dollar?"
Reedy grumbled, but paid. The Mexican lifted his hand, pressed it to
his heart, and bowed with mocking gallantry.
"Until to-night, senor."
[Illustration: Lolita tries her wiles on Percy.]