"Hope he leaves me alone in my glory," said Macgowan. Then his face cleared. "Say, one reason I dropped in was about Findlater. I think our merry little president is going to spring a motion at next week's meeting for salaried directors."
Armstrong's face tightened ominously.
"So he wants a cut of the melon?"
"Probably. He has some of the others with him, and figures that by springing a good argument he can get away with it. Judge Holcomb is dead against him, of course."
"Naturally; Holcomb's square. What's your advice?"
Macgowan's gaze searched Armstrong with a steady and appraising scrutiny.
"If it was my affair, Reese, I'd throw 'em out. Bounce them hard, get rid of them for good! They're under contract to serve for three years, without salary, in return for stock allotted them; we're where we can do without 'em, and we owe them no debt of gratitude for getting Consolidated under way. A bunch of real live men on the board would help us tremendously just now. I say, if they start any fuss, bounce them and begin over!"
Armstrong settled back in his chair, and shook his head slightly.
"Well, why not?" demanded Macgowan.
"For the very reasons you name." Armstrong stared out the window and puffed silently. This immobility irritated Macgowan.