“I’m out for myself,” said John.
“All right,” said Awns. “Here’s for the North American Manufacturing Company, Limited.”
They drew up papers. At the end of the business John asked: “Will you take your fee in cash or stock?”
Jubal Awns was amazed, and somehow challenged, too. He was ten years older than John, successful and shrewd, with a delusion that he was romantic. He loved to dramatize a matter and make unexpected decisions. Putting down the papers he got up and walked three times across the floor with an air of meditation.
“I’ll take it in stock,” he said, “provided I may incorporate all of your companies and take my fees that way each time.”
They shook hands on it.
It was late that afternoon when John and Thane together set out in a buggy from the hotel to inspect the mill. Thane was eager and communicative. He had not been taking it easy. He evidently had visited all the big mills in and around Pittsburgh. He had seen some new practice and much that was bad, and had got a lot of ideas. He had informed himself as to the conditions of labor. Here and there he had found a man he meant to pick up.
And all the time John’s heart was sinking.
As they turned into Twenty-ninth Street the eight stacks of the Keystone Iron Works rose in their eyes. No other iron working plant was visible in the vicinity, and as John, looking for his nail mill, began to slow up, Thane leaped to the notion that the Keystone was their goal.
“She’s a whale,” he said, enthusiastically, but with no sound of awe. John gave him a squinting glance.