“Mr. Duff, You are unusually clever at reading other's motives,” he replied.
“I went to school as a youngster, and learned how to read the pages of open books,” the gambler confessed modestly. “So you have, as yet, no plan for compelling the young engineers to fail and quit at the Man-killer?”
This was such a direct, comprehensive question that Fred Ransom remained silent for some moments before he admitted:
“No; as yet I haven't been able to form a plan.”
“Then engage me to help you,” spoke Jim Duff slowly, coolly. “I know the country here, and the people. I know where to lay my finger on men who can be trusted to do unusual things. I shall come high, Mr. Ransom, but I am really worth the money. Talk it over with me, and convince me that your company will be sufficiently liberal in return for large favors.”
“Oh, the Colthwaite Company would be liberal enough,” protested Ransom, “and quick to hand out the cash, at that.”
“I took that for granted,” smiled Duff, showing his white teeth. “Your people, the Colthwaites, have always been accustomed to paying for favors that require unusual talent, some courage-and perhaps a persistency of the shooting kind.”
Then the two rascals, who now thoroughly understood each other, fell to plotting. An hour later the outlook was dark, indeed, for the success of Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton.