“Si,” Lopez answered.

“There is oil here?” Pell asked excitedly.

Another cigarette went into the bandit’s mouth.  “Should I waste time talking of what ain’t?” he drily said.

Hardy was still skeptical.  “You know there’s oil on this ranch?”

“I ’ave know so for a long time.”

“On the level?” said Pell, eagerly.

“’Way down below,” laughed Lopez, delighted at his ability to pun in English, and making a motion with one hand toward the nether regions.

“You mean it?” Pell continued.

A dark scowl came over the face of Lopez.  “Should you doubt my word?” he inquired.

“Certainly not,” Pell was quick to satisfy him.  “Only why didn’t you say so before?”

“Oil not interests me,” the bandit explained.

“But since to you gentlemen it seem so excitable—­I ’ave it.”

“Yes?” from Hardy.

“Ze little paper.  You both want it. Bueno! You shall both ’ave ze chance.  We will, ’ow you say, ’old ze little hauction.”

“Auction?” Pell repeated.

“’E who bids ze ’ighest,” Lopez elucidated, “shall ’ave ze little paper and shall come wiz me while I show ’im where ze oil she is ’iding.”  He flicked the ashes of his cigarette upon the floor, and sat on the corner of the table, one foot dangling in the air.

“Gad!” Pell let out.  His hands went together, his jaw set.  Things were coming out beautifully.

Lopez went on:  “While ’e who does not bid ze ’ighest shall stay ’ere wiz Pedro until eight o’clock to-night.”

Hardy was delighted.  “You mean the highest bidder will not only get the place but that you’ll show him where the oil is besides?”

“Si. Is it so agree?”

“I’m for that,” Pell said.

“But I—­” Hardy began.

“I bid one hundred thousand dollars,” Pell quickly cried.

“I’ll take it to the courts,” Hardy contended.

“Take what to the courts?” Pell wanted to know.

“I was detained by force,” Hardy said.

“As long as I get there by eight, what difference does that make?” Pell asked.

But Lopez broke in:  “One hundred sousand I am offer!” They mustn’t shillyshally this way.  He wanted to keep things going.

“I’ll make it one hundred and one!” Hardy cried.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Pell jerked it up to a hundred and ten.

“A hundred and eleven!” Hardy pushed ahead.

“A hundred and twenty-five!” Pell yelled.  “And what do you know about that?”

Hardy was by no means finished.  “A hundred and thirty!” he made it.

Uncle Henry couldn’t stand it.  While they raised each other’s bids, he shot in between them and managed to say above the din, “And me—­gettin’ skinned not only out of my ten thousand, but a million dollars besides!”

“A hundred and fifty!” Pell was saying.