grinned.

"I exceed my instructions. I offer two thousand, Mr. Gordon."

"If you said two hundred thousand, I'd still say no till I had looked it
up. I'm not doing business to-day at any price, thank you."

"You are perhaps of an impression that this land is valuable. On the
contrary, I offer an assurance. And our need of your shadowy claim----"

"I ain't burdened with impressions, except one, that I don't care to
dispose of my ghost-title. We'll talk business a month from to-day, if
you like. No sooner. Have a smoke, Don Manuel?"

Pesquiera declined the proffered cigar with an impatient gesture. He
rose, reclaimed his hat and cane, and clicked his heels together in a
stiff bow.

He was a slight, dark, graceful man, with small, neat hands and feet,
trimly gloved and shod. He had a small black mustache pointing upward in
parallels to his smooth, olive cheeks. The effect was almost foppish,
but the fire in the snapping eyes contradicted any suggestion of
effeminacy. His gaze yielded nothing even to the searching one of
Gordon.

"It is, then, war between us, Señor Gordon?" he asked haughtily.

Dick laughed.

"Sho! It's just business. Maybe I'll take your offer. Maybe I won't. I