Then after a moment's pause Barclay said: "General, I'm in earnest about that.
You will either mail those dividend certificates according to your guarantee on the first, or as sure as there is a God in heaven I'll see that you won't have a dollar in your bank on the night of the second." The old man stood gasping.

The eyes of the two men met.

Barclay's were bold and green and blazing.
"Boy! Boy! Boy!--" the old man faltered.

"Don't ruin me! Don't ruin me--" he did not finish the sentence, but sank into his chair, and dropped his face to his breast and repeated, "Don't, don't, don't," feebly for a few times, without seeming to realize what he was saying.
From some outpost of his being reinforcements came.

For he rose suddenly, and shaking his haggard fist at the youth, exclaimed in a high, furious, cracking voice as he panted and shook his great hairy head: "No--by God, no, by God, no! You damned young cut-throat--you can break my bank, but you can't bulldoze me.