"His assistant."
"I'd like to borrow some money," said Pete timidly. He tucked away the unlit cigar. "Two thousand. Name of Johnson. Triangle E brand—Yavapai County! Two hundred Herefords in a fenced township. Three hundred and twenty acres patented land. Sixty acres under ditch. I'd give you a mortgage on that. Pete Johnson—Peter Wallace Johnson on mortgages and warrants."
"I do not think we would consider it."
"Good security—none better," said Pete. "Good for three times two thousand at a forced sale."
"Doubtless!" The official shoulders shrugged incredulity.
"I'm known round here—you could look up my standing, verify titles, and so on," urged Pete.
"I could not make the loan on my own authority."
Pete's face fell.
"Can't I see Mr. Gans, then?" he persisted.
"He's out to luncheon."