“What do you mean talking to me like that?” snarled Henderson angrily. “A moment ago you sold me two claims, and now—”
“And now, having concluded business before pleasure, I’m talking. Miss Ferguson has transferred her block of Apex Crown to me.”
Henderson’s eyes narrowed. He started to speak, and bit back the words.
“That’s right, don’t get hasty,” and Bowen grinned exasperatingly. “Took you by surprise, did it? Thought I didn’t know you, eh? Well, I had sort of figured out that you might be you, and when you stepped in the door I knew it was you. Picking up low-grade silver properties, are you? I don’t suppose that by any stretch of friendship you’d tell me why you’re picking them up?”
Henderson’s face went livid with anger.
“So you cut in ahead of me!” he rasped. “You got that little fool of a girl to hand over the stock—”
“Just one minute, Henderson!” Bowen lifted his hand. “I’ve got a terrible temper. It doesn’t work very hard, not every day; but to hear names and epithets applied to honest women is something that sets it on a hair-trigger. Now, if I were you, Henderson, I’d just speak names and leave out the adjectives. Do you get me? Get me right off the jump?”
Henderson swallowed hard. It was plain to see that he was seething internally. But he knew men; that was his business. He looked into Bowen’s gray eyes, and controlled himself.
“What do you want?” he said slowly, his voice low and tense. “What are you driving at? Trying to force a bigger price for that stock out of me?”
“Nope,” returned Bowen cheerfully. “But it isn’t nice for a big man like you to come in here and try to threaten and browbeat a girl into giving away all she’s got in the world. It’s going to get you badly beaten up one of these days. However, now that you’re dealing with me you might prove reasonable. How much will you give for that Apex Crown?”