"
The Young Docor felt he had made headway, and he let it go at that. It
was clear he was to be permitted to come to-morrow. "Yes, it's a fine
place," he replied convincingly. "Three thousand acres is a mighty big
place when you've got farm-land as well as cattle-grazing."
"It's nearly all good farm-land," answered the old man with decision. "I
don't believe much in ranching or cattle. I'm for the plough and the
wheat. There's more danger from cattle disease than from bad crops. I'm
getting rid of my cattle. I expect to sell a lot of 'em to-day." An
avaricious smile of satisfaction drew down the corners of his lips. "I've
got a good customer. He ought to be on the trail now." He drew out a huge
silver watch. "Yes, he's due. The party's a foreigner, I believe. He
lives over at Slow Down Ranch--got a French name."
"Oh, Giggles!" said the Young Doctor with a quick smile.
The old man shook his head: "No, that ain't the name. It's Guise-Orlando
Guise is the name."
"Same thing," remarked the Young Doctor. "They call him Giggles for
short. You've seen him of course?"
"No, I've been dealing with him so far through a third party. Why's he
called Giggles?" asked the Master of Tralee.
"Well, you'll know when you see him. He's not cut according to
everybody's measure. If you're dealing with him, don't think him a fool
because he chirrups, and don't size him up according to his looks.
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