“Not much use getting it back, however, unless I can raise another hundred thousand to restock it with pure-bred or good-grade Herefords and purchase modern equipment to operate it.”  Parker nodded approvingly.  “Otherwise,” Farrel continued, “the interest would eat me alive, and in a few years I’d be back where I started.”

“Do you think you can borrow four hundred thousand dollars in San Marcos County, Mr. Farrel?”

“No, sir.  No private loan of that magnitude can be floated in this country.  You control the only bank in the county that can even consider it—­and you’ll not consider it.”

“Hardly.”

“Added to which handicap, I have no additional security to offer in the shape of previous reputation for ability and industry.  I am the last of a long line of indolent, care-free spendthrifts.”

“Yes; that is unfortunately true,” Parker assented, gravely.

“Oh, not so unfortunate as it is embarrassing and inconvenient.  We have always enjoyed life to the fullest, and, for that, only a fool would have regret.  Would you be willing to file a satisfaction of that old mortgage and give me a new loan for five years for the amount now due on the property?  I could induce one of the big packing companies to stake me to the cattle.  All I would have to provide would be the range, and satisfy them that I am honest and know my business.  And I can do that.  Such an arrangement would give me time to negotiate a sale of part of the ranch and pay up your mortgage.”

“I am afraid that my present plans preclude consideration of that suggestion,” the banker replied, kindly, but none the less forcibly.

“I didn’t think you would, but I thought I’d ask.  As a general rule, it pays to try anything once when a fellow is in as desperate case as I am.  My only hope, then, is that I may be able to sell the Farrel equity in the ranch prior to the twenty-second day of November.”

“That would seem to be your best course, Mr. Farrel.”

“When does the redemption period expire?”

Parker squirmed slightly.

“That is a difficult question to answer, Mr. Farrel.  It seems your father was something of a lawyer—­”

“Yes; he graduated in law.  Why, nobody ever knew, for he never had the slightest intention of practising it.  I believe it must have been because my grandfather, Michael Joseph I, had an idea that, since his son was a gentleman, he ought to have a college degree and the right to follow some genteel profession in case of disaster.”

“Your father evidently kept abreast of the law,” Parker laughed.  “Before entering suit for foreclosure, I notified him by registered mail that the mortgage would not be renewed and made formal demand upon him for payment in full.  When he received the notice from the El Toro postmaster to call for that registered letter, he must have suspected its contents, for he immediately deeded the ranch to you and then called for the registered letter.”