“Sonny,” said old Bill Conway gently, passing his arm across Farrel’s shoulders, “I wish to goodness you’d shut up!  I haven’t got three hundred thousand dollars, nor a tenth of it.  If I had it I’d give it to you now and save argument.  But I’ll tell you what I have got, son, and that’s a sense of humor.  It’s kept me poor all my life, but if you think it will make you rich you’re welcome to it.”  He looked up, and his glance met Kay’s.  “This chap’s a limited edition,” he informed her gravely.  “After the Lord printed one volume, he destroyed the plates.  Mr. Parker, sir—­” He stepped up to John Parker and smote the latter lightly on the breast—­“Tag; you’re it!” he announced pleasantly.  “I’ll cancel this contract when you hand me a certified check; for twenty-four billion, nine-hundred and eighty-two million, four hundred and seventeen thousand, six hundred and one dollars, nine cents, and two mills.”

“Conway,” Parker answered him quietly, “I like your sense of humor, even if it does hurt.  However, you force me to fight the devil with fire.  Still, for the sake of the amenities, we should always make formal declaration of war before beginning hostilities.”

“And that’s a trick you didn’t learn in Japan,” the old contractor reminded him.

“So I hereby declare war.  I’m a past master at holding hard to whatever I do not wish the other fellow to take away from me, so build your dam and be damned to you.  Of course, if you complete your contract eventually, you will force me to pay you for it, but in the interim you will have had to use clam-shells and woodpecker heads for money.  I know I can stave off settlement of your judgment for a year; after that, should I acquire title to the Rancho Palomar, I will settle with you promptly.”

“And if you shouldn’t acquire title, I shall look to my young friend, Don Miguel Farrel, for reimbursement.  While at present the future may look as black to Mike as the Earl of Hell’s riding-boots, his credit is good with me.  Is this new law you’ve promulgated retroactive?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll settle with me for all work performed up to the moment of this break in diplomatic relations, won’t you?”

“That’s quite fair, Conway.  I’ll do that.”  Despite the chagrin of having to wage for the nonce a losing battle, Parker laughed heartily and with genuine sincerity.  Don Mike joined with him and the charged atmosphere cleared instantly.

“Bill Conway, you’re twenty-four carat all through.”  Farrel laid a hand affectionately on his father’s old friend.  “Be sure to come down to the hacienda tomorrow night and get your check.  We dine at six-thirty.”

“As is?” Conway demanded, surveying his rusty old business suit and hard, soiled hands.

“‘As is,’ Bill.”

“Fine!  Well, we’ve come to a complete understanding without falling out over it, haven’t we?” he demanded of Kay and her mother.  “With malice toward none and justice toward all—­or words to that effect.  Eh?”