Last of all, he had believed devoutly in his own strong hands
and will, the partnership of mind and muscle which confronts seemingly
insuperable obstacles confident that it can destroy them.
And now, hour by hour, day by day, conviction settled upon his soul
that in this world one only reigned supreme: the Autocrat of Oil,
whose High Priest was Nathaniel Leveson. After heart-rending months of
humiliation, upon the eve of foreclosure by the banks, Uncle Jap wrote
a forlorn letter to Nathaniel, accepting his offer of fifty thousand
dollars for the lake of oil. Mr. Leveson, so a subordinate replied,
_was not buying oil properties_! For the moment he was interested
in other matters ... Uncle Jap happened to read next day that Leveson,
treading in the footsteps of his Master, was about to present a
splendid church to the people of San Lorenzo. Uncle Jap stared at the
paper till it turned white, till he saw in the middle of it a huge
purple blot ever-increasing in size.
That evening he cleaned his old six-shooter, which had made the
climate of the county so particularly pestilential for the wizard with
the hazel twig.
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