Aaron Logan had given the matter of this Bar-O affair much thought. He had canvassed every available prospect. In all the community there wasn't a person that would give a thin dime for a property with a defiant oldster thereon, who would certainly kill or be killed if possession was to be gained. And a killing was bad advertisement, a poor prelude to opening a bank.
But in the very hour he planned to execute this last resort, a rank outsider, an unknown and uncanvassed source, a little runt of a man with more confidence and assurance than his size would warrant, was offering to take over the ranch and assume the problem. Aaron Logan regarded it as a slender chance—could not believe that one so small could have earned so much—but he would take the chance. He headed his car up Willow Street to stop at the bank's rear door. He waved Adine to a favorable parking space.
"I will call Mr. Limeledge, my lawyer, to draw up a contract," he said as the party of five were seated in the back room.
"Well, that's hardly necessary," said Davy. "If you jot down a memo that you will make a deed to David Lannarck to the Bar-O ranch upon payment, on or before October 18th, 1932, of four thousand dollars in cash and a probable expenditure of two hundred dollars in getting possession, and sign it, I will also sign it and it will be an agreement. But before we do anything, I want to get on the phone to see if I can contact Ralph Gaynor. None of you folks really know me. I want you to listen in so that we can get acquainted. Here's the money for the long distance call," he added. "Tell the operator that it's OK."
Aaron Logan didn't like being told what to do, especially by a little cocksure midget. But there was the matter of getting rid of a bad problem. He complied with Davy's request.
"This is David Lannarck at phone fifty. I want to talk to Ralph Gaynor, at phone BA two hundred in the Dollar Savings Bank in Springfield. Yes, that's the state. I should have said so, for it's a grand old commonwealth. I'll be right here for an hour."
In the lull of waiting, Aaron Logan wondered—wondered how one so small hoped to depose one so fierce and stubborn. He would find out. "Do you think you can get Hulls and Maizie out of there by Thanksgiving?" he inquired politely.
"It doesn't really matter," said David languidly. "But I must try to get acquainted with 'em; make friends with 'em if I can."
"Why do you hope to persuade 'em to get off?" exclaimed the astonished receiver. "I've seen 'em. They're impossible."
"Maybe you didn't see 'em at their best," replied the midget quietly. "I've never seen either of them, but I've had several descriptions from others and this Maizie shows possibilities."