“Well, keep it, then,” burst out Wiley, “and I hope to God you get stuck for every cent. Your old mine isn’t worth a dam’!”
“Why–Wiley!” gasped Blount, quite shaken for the moment by this disastrous piece of news, “what reason have you for thinking that?”
“Give me a hundred dollars as an advising expert and I’ll tell you–and show you, too.”
“No, I hardly think so,” answered Blount at last. “And, Wiley, you don’t think so, either.”
“No?” challenged Wiley. “Well, you just watch my smoke and see whether I do or not.”
He had closed the door before Blount dragged him back like a haggling, relentless pawn-broker.
“Make me a proposition,” he clamored desperately, “and if it’s anywhere in reason I’ll accept it.”
“All right,” answered Wiley, “but show me what you’ve got–I don’t buy any cat in a bag.”
“And will you make me an offer?” demanded 112Blount hopefully. “Will you take the whole thing off my hands?”
“I will if it’s good–but you’ll have to show me first that you’ve got a controlling share of the stock. And another thing, Mr. Blount, since our time is equally valuable, let’s cut out this four-flushing stuff. If I’d wanted your mine so awfully bad I’d have held on to it when the title was mine; but I turned it back to you, just to let you look it over, and to keep the peace for once. But now, if you’re satisfied, I might look it over; but it’ll be under a bond and lease. The parties I represent are strictly business, and we make it a rule to tie everything up tight before we put out a cent. I’ll want an option on every share you have, and I can’t offer more than ten per cent royalty; but to compensate for that I’ll agree to pay in full or vacate within six months from date.”