"We can't all win," he said, rising up to go. "Think of me and that Tecolote common!"
Rimrock grinned, but Stoddard had come there for a purpose and he did not choose to unbend.
"Mr. Jones," he began, as they were left alone, "I see we are not able to agree. Every point that I bring up you oppose it on general principles. Have you any suggestions for the future?"
"Why, yes," returned Rimrock, "since I'm in control I suggest that you leave me alone. I know what you'd like—you'd like to have me play dead, and let you and Jepson run the mine. But if you've got enough, if you want to get out, I might take that stock off your hands."
A questioning flash came into Stoddard's keen eyes.
"In what way?" he enquired cautiously.
"Well, just place a value on it, whatever you think it's worth, and we'll get right down to business." Rimrock hitched up his trousers, and the square set of his shoulders indicated his perfect willingness to begin. "You're not the only man," he went on importantly, "that's got money to put into mines."
"Perhaps not," admitted Stoddard, "but you take too much for granted if you think I can be bought out for a song."
"Oh, no," protested Rimrock, "I don't think anything like that. I expect you to ask a good price. Yes, a big price. But figure it out, now, what you've put into the mine and a reasonable return for your risk. Then multiply it by five, or ten, or twenty, whatever you think it's worth, and make me an offer on paper."
"Not at all! Not at all!" rapped out Stoddard hastily, "I'm in the market to buy."