"Where do you get the authority to decide that my business is a small matter?" he demanded, with a menace of manner that caused the other to retreat in haste. "Go bring him and make me no more trouble."
The man went. Bryant lighted a cigarette and fell to surveying the store's merchandise. Several minutes passed before a murmur of voices apprised him of the coming of the men. Menocal entered the side door first, approaching heavily and sleepily the spot where the engineer waited. He had not put on coat or collar; his short figure appeared more than ever obese; his sweeping white moustache divided his plump, shiny brown face; and his air was that of one who must put up with vexatious interruptions because of the important position he filled.
"You wish to speak with me?" he asked, shortly.
"That's why I'm here," Bryant returned.
Menocal gazed at him owlishly for a time.
"You're the man who threw my son's money back at the ford day before yesterday, aren't you?" he questioned.
"The same."
"Why did you throw it back?"
"Why did he throw it at me in the first place? You should train him to use better judgment. You yourself wouldn't have done it."
"No," Menocal said. Then, as if the subject were dismissed, he asked, "What do you wish to see me about?"