That mention of Thady Shea softened Mrs. Crump. She realized that Thady had made a great impression, had made so great an impression that here was Sandy Mackintavers, in the flesh, making apologies for past deeds!
“Well, Sandy,” she returned, bluntly, “I will say that I think ye to be more or less of a skunk. Howsomever, I’ll meet any man halfway—even you—when he talks that-a-way. I don’t guess we’d ever be bosom friends, but I don’t aim to be mean or ornery when a man’s tryin’ to be as white as his nature allows him. Here y’are.”
She seized his hand and shook it vigorously. Mackintavers looked rather red about the face, as though her frank opinion of his character had bitten into him.
“Now, if you have time to be talkin’ over a little matter o’ business——”
“About this here location?” Mrs. Crump’s eyes began to snap again.
“Yes.”
“Gilbert! Lewis! Come on in here. Meet Sandy Mackintavers. They’re members o’ the company, Sandy. They got claims along the cañon, which same they turned in for stock. Stock ain’t issued yet, but that’s all right. Come on inside an’ talk.”
The lady was truculent and openly suspicious; the two men were narrow-eyed, hostile. Mackintavers seemed quite oblivious, and entered the shack. All four seated themselves. Mackintavers produced cigars. Mrs. Crump lighted her pipe and uttered a single emphatic word.
“Shoot!”
“You have a valuable mine here,” said Mackintavers, without preamble. “I want to control it. I’m talking frank and laying my cards on the table, ma’am. First, let me give you folks an idea of the railroad situation.”