"You won't get it."
"Then there's the alternative of the bondholders putting up money enough to finish the work."
"That, neither."
"All right, Gretzinger," Bryant stated, rising. "You have an idea that I'll give in——"
"Yes, I have. You'll grab this ten thousand I offer, grab it quick by to-morrow night, which is the limit I set for it to remain open. I've seen men before in a tight hole who swore they wouldn't take the terms handed them, but they always did in the end, and so will you. Only a fool wouldn't. And I fancy Carrigan won't sacrifice a good piece of work in a dull season and pull off his men and teams."
Pat hoisted himself off his seat stiffly.
"Why don't your outfit sell instead of trying to buy?" he asked, crossing to Lee's desk and obtaining a can of tobacco sitting there. "I suppose they'll sell." He began to stuff his pipe, pressing the tobacco into the bowl with a brown forefinger.
"Certainly; they would unload what they have in this rotten project so fast that the bonds would smoke. But who in the devil would touch them?"
"I might."
"You?" Gretzinger began to laugh. "What have you besides your outfit? They're not taking worn-out fresnos in exchange to-day, thank you."