“Well, Mr. Ackerman dropped in this morning.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t suppose he wanted anything in particular. He just happened in, being in town. This came up in the course of conversation.”
“Son,” said Crooks, “Ackerman doesn’t go anywhere or see anybody without he wants something. You tie into that. What did he talk about?”
Joe told him. Crooks listened intently, chewing his cigar.
“He suggested the same thing to your father, and your father refused to consider it,” he said. “Now he comes to you. Huh!” He smoked in silence for several moments. “I wonder what his game is?” he concluded thoughtfully.
“Why, I suppose if he organized the company he’d get a block of stock for his services,” said Joe, and he thought the comment particularly shrewd. “That’s all I see in it, Mr. Crooks.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” growled the lumberman bluntly. “If you fell in with his proposition he’d kick you out when he got ready.”
“No,” said Joe. “He suggested that I retain a majority of the shares.”
Crooks eyed him pityingly. “In about six months he’d issue more and cut your throat.”