“Wait a minute!” Pell cried.

Lopez faced him.  “Yes?” And puffed his cigarette.

Pell addressed both the bandit and Jasper Hardy.  “I’ll make a better offer.  Keep him here until eight o’clock, and I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars!”

Lopez was considering, “H’m,” he murmured, and stroked his chin.

Uncle Henry saw a mess ahead.  He steered right into the group, crying, “Wait a minute.  I got a better idea yet!”

“You?” Lopez said, as he might have addressed a moron.

“Yes, this place don’t belong to neither of ’em yet!”

“But who does it belong to?” the Mexican wanted to know.

“My nevyer,” the invalid said.

“And which is ’e?”

“He’s down in the shed—­fixin’,” the old man informed him.

Lopez turned to Pedro.  “Venustiano shall find him.  Before he make trouble—­you,” turning to “Red,” “shall show ’im where.”  Pedro had raised his revolver; and one look at it was enough for “Red.”  These bandits meant what they said; more, they meant every gesture they made.

“It’s all right,” the foreman said.  “He ain’t got anything to lose anyhow.  I’ll show you where he is,” and, followed by the sinister Venustiano, he went out.

Uncle Henry moved his chair close to Lopez.  “Now listen, robber—­I mean, bandit.  You keep both these fellers here and lend us ten thousand dollars, and we’ll give you a million!”

“A million!” said Lopez, his eyes big.

“The first million we make out of the oil that’s here!” “Uncle Henry proposed.  And, serious as things were getting to be, a smile went around the group.

“I should lend you ten sousand dollar?” the bandit asked.

“Absolutely!  Will you?” Uncle Henry had the temerity to say.

“I do not lend,” was the hard response.  “I take.”  And he turned away.

“But if you’ll—­” the old man pleaded.

“Your proposition not interests me,” Lopez said.  Uncle Henry wheeled over to the staircase.  The bandit turned to Pell.  “You offer me twenty sousand?  Zat is so?” he said.

“Right,” Pell replied.

Lopez smiled sardonically, “Twenty sousand—­for what is worth millions?”

“But I don’t know that there’s oil here,” Pell argued.

Lopez laughed.  “No?” Then, to Hardy, “You?  You don’t know, eizer, I s’pose?”

“I thought there might be—­that’s all.”

The bandit gave a hearty laugh.  “Oh!” he exclaimed, almost consumed with mirth.  “I see I do business wiz business men—­wise business men. Bueno!  Now we three business men togezzer, eh?  Suppose I shall show you where ze oil is.  What zen?” He looked around the room, as if he thought everybody should be interested; and indeed everyone was.  Little gasps came from Hardy and Pell, and Uncle Henry wiggled his chair up closer.

“Show us where she is?” Hardy asked, breathless.