"It has been a p-pleasure to meet you, Mr. Symes." Prescott extended a gray suede hand. "I do not feel that the hour has been wasted, since I have learned so m-much."
"Ask any question that occurs to you: my time is at your disposal as long as I am here." Symes shook his hand heartily in a strong western grip. "Great pleasure to converse with a gentleman again, I assure you."
Symes and Mudge looked at each other when the door had closed upon his back.
"Tractable as a kitten!" exclaimed Symes, beaming.
"Think so?" Mudge did not seem greatly elated.
"Why, yes; don't you?" Symes looked surprised.
"'Tractable' isn't just the word I'd ever apply to Prescott," he answered dryly. "You don't understand his kind."
"You're wrong there," Symes answered with asperity. "But don't you think we're goin' to land him?"
Mudge shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll bet you a hat!" cried Symes confidently. "I know the difference between a nibble and a bite. I tell you Prescott's hooked."