Don Mariano saw his city property thus sacrificed before his eyes at public sale, just as he had seen his cattle buried under the snow. He submitted in both cases to the inevitable without a murmur; but this time the blow seemed heavier. He was pecuniarily less able to bear it, and being in bad health and discouraged, his misfortunes were more depressing. He rode home saddened indeed.
Victoriano, who was now able to be about (but said he mistrusted his legs), was with him.
“Father, why don't you use some of that money Clarence sent you? I am sure he would approve your doing so, and feel glad, very glad, indeed, that you did it,” said Victoriano, when they had driven for a long time without uttering a word.
Don Mariano turned sharply and said: “Why should I use Clarence's money? If I had delivered the cattle to Fred Haverly, as it was agreed I should, then I would have a right to take from Clarence's money the price of the cattle delivered. But having delivered no cattle, I take no money.”
“Everett was saying that Clarence distinctly stated to his father that the cattle in the Alamar rancho with your brand were all his, and would be driven as soon as the weather permitted. Mr. Darrell thinks that the cattle lost belonged to Clarence, and not to you.”
“Mr. Darrell is wrong, then. I cannot expect to be paid for cattle I did not deliver.”
“But he says you had sold them already. If they were lost on the way it was neither your fault nor your loss.”
“No, but was my misfortune, not Clarence's.”
“The cattle were going to Clarence's mines, which goes to prove that they had been bought by him.”
“I cannot view the matter like that,” Don Mariano said, and Victoriano saw his mind was settled upon the subject, and it was best not to annoy him by insisting in opposition.