"Well, you sure need money, and--I kin he'p you out."

"Thank you, but I sha'n't borrow. If the time were not so short, I
could probably turn this lease you so kindly offered me. But
something else will happen along."

Briskow sighed. "I could of sold it myself--thought I had it sold
to a bunch from Wichita, but they tricked me. I offered it the day
you was at our house for eighty thousand and Nelson more 'n half
agreed to--"

"_Who?_"

Briskow looked up at the tone of this inquiry. "One of the fellers
from Wichita Falls. I s'pose he knowed the option was about run
out; anyhow, he's been holdin' me off from day to day till it's
too late now fer me to--"

"What is his name?" Gray broke in, sharply. "Name's Nelson. Bell
Nelson's son. Bell's hard-boiled, but--"

"Henry Nelson?"

"That's him."

Gray rose from his chair and strode swiftly to the window. He
stood there staring down into the street for a moment before
saying, curtly, "Go on!"

"You know them Nelsons?"