He was at the hotel as soon as the Jew got there.
“Got any nice stones set in a ring, Uncle?” asked Nate. “If you have, I reckon you and I can do business.”
Isaacs peered at him from under his bushy brows.
“Who you was, young chentleman?” he asked.
“Dunbar, of the Star-A ranch,” was the answer.
A flicker ran through the Jew’s eyes, and he trembled a little as he shifted his battered satchel from one hand to the other.
“Ach, mein friendt,” said he, “I haf got some of der finest shtones in rings vat efer you see, yah, so. You got der money to buy, I got der rings to sell. Vat you like?”
“Come off some place where we can be by ourselves,” answered Nate. “I don’t like to buy finery with so many folks lookin’ on.”
The clerk offered them the use of a room, and they were soon in chairs, looking over the peddler’s stock.
“What I want,” said Dunbar, “is the real, gen-u-ine thing in stones. This ring’s to be for Mrs. Dunbar, and she hasn’t her equal among womenkind in all Texas. I want something that’s up to the mark, or it don’t go; and, what’s more, I haven’t a mint of money to squander, either.”