"How much do you want?" asked Rimrock and fetched out a great sheaf of Navajoa.
"Well—not Navajoa," said the banker uneasily, "we have quite a lot of that already, on brokers' loans. Mr. Buckbee, you know. But if you would just put up, say two thousand shares of Tecolote——"
"No!"
"We could loan you up to two million."
The president paused and glanced at him mildly, but Rimrock had thrown down his stock.
"No," he said, "you can take this Navajoa or I'll quit and go somewhere else. I wouldn't put up a single share of Tecolote if you'd give me your whole, danged bank."
"Very well," said the president with a fleeting smile, "we'll accept your Navajoa. My secretary will arrange it—but mind this is on a call loan! Give him credit for five hundred more," he added and the clerk showed Rimrock out.
There are certain formalities that the richest must observe before they can borrow half a million and it was nearly noon before Rimrock was free and on his way to the hotel. He was just leaping out of his taxicab when he saw Mrs. Hardesty reeling towards him.
"Oh, Rimrock!" she gasped, "I've had such a blow—won't you take me back to my rooms? Oh, I can't explain it, but Whitney H. Stoddard is trying to force me to give up my stock! That Tecolote stock——"
"Here, get into this taxi!" said Rimrock on the instant, "now where do you want to go?"