That was the most glorious moment of his existence.
In the outer office of the Directors of the Bank, the clerks offered him
a seat until the personage the other side of the door should deign to
receive him. But scarcely was his name announced than that same director
ran to admit him, and the employee was stupefied to hear the ranchman
say, by way of greeting, "I have come to draw out three hundred thousand
dollars. I have abundant pasturage, and I wish to buy a ranch or two in
order to stock them."
His arbitrary and contradictory character weighed upon the inhabitants
of his lands with both cruel and good-natured tyranny. No vagabond ever
passed by the ranch without being rudely assailed by its owner from the
outset.
"Don't tell me any of your hard-luck stories, friend," he would yell as
if he were going to beat him. "Under the shed is a skinned beast;
cut and eat as much as you wish and so help yourself to continue your
journey. . . . But no more of your yarns!"
And he would turn his back upon the tramp, after giving him a few
dollars.
One day he became infuriated because a peon was nailing the wire fencing
too deliberately on the posts. Everybody was robbing him! The following
day he spoke of a large sum of money that he would have to pay for
having endorsed the note of an acquaintance, completely bankrupt.
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