“You have—­you certainly have, and I am mighty obliged to you,” said the grateful “Red.”

“You are welcome.  I like you.  But remember zis:  Eet is your wish—­not mine....  Don’t blame me.”

“Red” could stand this now:  he had his Angela.  And tucked in his big arm, he took her outdoors.

As soon as they had gone, Hardy turned to Lopez.  “Look here!” he shouted, “I guess I’ve got something to say about this.  That’s my daughter, whose affairs you’ve been so kindly fixing up, and—­”

Lopez gave him one look that closed his mouth suddenly.  “Don’t shoot, Pedro,” he said.  “Well?”

Hardy cast one eye at Pedro’s lifted gun, and got out only one word, “Nothing.”  A meeker man never lived.

“From what my frand tell me, I can see now ’ow you make your money,” the bandit told Hardy.  “You are a robber.”

This was too much for Hardy—­for any man with a spark of manhood left in him.

“I am not!” he denied.  “I’m a business man.”

“You are a loan fish,” the bandit pressed.

“A what?”

“A loan fish!  You loan money.  And when ze people cannot pay, you convict zem and take zeir ranchos.”

The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation.

“Well, if they can’t pay, it isn’t my fault,” was all he could say.

“It isn’t zeir fault, too, is it?” Lopez was curious to know.

“What’s that?” Hardy said.

“So you take ze rancho from my friend, Senor Jones.  A nice sort of neighbor you are, you beeg fish!”

“I’m not to blame because he’s a rotten business man, am I?” Hardy tried to set himself right.

Lopez looked at him scornfully.  “How do you know ’e is a rotten business man?”

“Why, the fact that I’ve had to foreclose the mortgage shows that,” Hardy smiled.

“Not at all.  Senor Jones ’ave been away to war.  He been away fighting for ’is country.”

“Well, that isn’t my fault.”

“No.”  There was profound contempt in the little word.  “He give up ’is business to go away to fight to save you, while you stay be’ind to rob ’im.  Is zat fair?”

Hardy gave a gesture of disdain.  “I’m not talking about what’s fair, or what’s not fair.  There’s lots of things in this world that ain’t right.  I am doing only what the law allows.”  He thought this cleared his skirts.  It was the refuge of every scoundrel.

“I do not speak about ze law,” Lopez followed him up.  “I am doing only what is fair.  If I were you, I should be ashamed for myself!  You love your country?”

“Certainly I do,” the other answered.

“Like ’ell!  You love yourself!” And Lopez deliberately turned his back on him.

“Now, wait a minute!” Hardy begged.  He could scarcely have this insult added to the host of others.  “I do love my country.  I’m a good American.”

“Yet you would rob ze man who fight for your country!  Bah!” The bandit waved his hand in disgust.