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The Iron Furrow by George C. (George Clifford) Shedd
page 33 of 295 (11%)
beds of poppies, its trees, its fence massed with sweet peas, and its
vine-covered veranda, where the engineer had a glimpse of a corpulent
figure in a hammock. The only sound from the place was the musical
gurgle of water in a little irrigation ditch bordering the lawn.

Inside the long store Bryant aroused the only man in sight, a Mexican
who slept on the counter with his head pillowed on a pile of overalls.

"Go tell Menocal there's a man here to see him on business," Lee
said.

The awakened sleeper slid off his perch, rubbed his eyes, yawned,
stretched himself, and then shook his head with great gravity.

"Mr. Menocal takes his siesta till three o'clock; you can see him at
that time," he said, in English.

"I'll see him now."

"Impossible! He is very angry when awakened for a small matter."

Bryant went a step nearer to the speaker.

"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
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