Strange to relate, his business got along very nicely without him. Am
I not right, Kay?"
"You are, mother dear. Dad reminds me of a horse at a livery-stable
fire. You rescue him from the flames, but the instant you let go his
halter-shank, he dashes into the burning barn." She winked ever so
slightly at Farrel. "Thanks to you, Don Mike," she assured him,
"father's claws are clipped for one year; thanks to you, again, we now
have a nice, quiet place to incarcerate him."
Farrel could see that John Parker, while outwardly appearing to enjoy
this combined attack against him, was secretly furious. And Don Mike
knew why. His pride as a business man was being cruelly lacerated; he
had foolishly crawled out on the end of a limb, and now there was a
probability, although a remote one, that Miguel Farrel would saw off
the limb before he could crawl back.
"Perhaps, Mr. Farrel," he replied, with a heroic attempt at jocularity,
"you will understand now that it was not altogether a cold hard heart
that prompted me to decline your request for a renewal of the mortgage
this morning. I couldn't afford to. I had agreed to gamble one
million dollars that you were thoroughly and effectually dead--I
couldn't see one chance in a million where this ranch would get away
from me."
"Well, do not permit yourself to become down-hearted, Mr. Parker," Don
Mike assured him whimsically.
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