"No; I was just coming to that," said the reorganizer, smiling easily. "How much is it?"
"It is under five thousand dollars, and a good part of that is owing to the cement people!"
"Never mind; don't get nervous," was the reassuring rejoinder. "We are going to make it bigger in a few minutes, I hope. Who is your banker here?"
"Dave Kinzie, of the Brewster City National."
"Tell me a little something about Mr. Kinzie before we go down to see him; just brief him for me as a man, I mean."
The colonel was shaking his head slowly.
"He's what you might call a twenty-ton optimist, Dave is; solid, a little slow and sure, but the biggest boomer in the West, if you can get him started—believes in the resources of the country and all that. But you can't borrow money from him without security, if that's what you're aiming to do."
"Can't we?" smiled the young man who knew banks and bankers. "Let's go and see. You never know until you try, Colonel; and even then you're not always dead certain. Take me around and introduce me to this Mr. David Kinzie—and, hold on; it may be as well to give me a handle of some sort before we begin to talk money with other people. What are you going to call me in this new scheme of things?"
The big Missourian's laugh was a hearty guffaw.
"Gosh all Friday! the way it's starting out you're the whole works, Smith! Just name your own name, and we'll cinch it for you."