For a long moment, both men eyed each other steadily. Then a cynical smile parted the broker’s lips.
“Assuming that you’ll buy it, Mr. Sangerly, may I ask what you propose doing with it—particularly when you realize that your purchase of the Huntington ranch means our absolute refusal to grant your company right of way privileges across the Lucky Boy ground into Geerusalem?” He paused, his smile vanishing, his eyes narrowing as he disclosed his hand. “And right here, let me say that you may consider our negotiations held up pending the complete settlement of the Huntington scandal and the final disposition of this ranch.”
Harrison, sitting in an obscure corner of the room, caught his breath, amazed at his master’s rash move. Sangerly represented a powerful corporation.
The railroad manager chuckled deep down in his throat. Open opposition and threat were what he delighted to cope with; and in the present case it was simply a matter of outwitting the enemy with its own knowledge of facts.
“Since you have taken such a bold stand in this thing, why not go on and tell us your underlying motive, Mr. Quintell? Why not enlighten us, for instance, with the information that, having learned of an immensely rich gold strike on the land owned by Miss Huntington’s father, you are reaching out after it—trying to get possession by methods not much better than those employed by your rascally friend, the claim jumper?”
Quintell sprang from his chair with an oath. His face was drawn with fury. He took one step toward Mr. Sangerly, then halted irresolutely.
Dot stared at the speaker in blank astonishment. Lex had risen and stood watching Quintell, while Harrison made preparations to go to his employer’s assistance at the first sign of trouble.
The elder Sangerly, now got deliberately to his feet. He pointed an authoritative finger at the boss of Geerusalem and shot out in sharp tones: “I’m buying that ranch, Quintell. You may consider the right of way negotiations ended, absolutely. There’ll be no M. & S. terminal in Geerusalem. If Geerusalem wishes to do business with my road, it can haul its freight and stage its passengers to and from our trains. If we can’t do any better, we’ll erect our depot and establish our yards on the Huntington ranch, and you people can bridge the four-mile gap the best way you see fit——”
“Oh, we can, can we?” broke in Quintell nastily. “Let me tell you something, Sangerly! You just start that Hawthorne, Nevada, game of giving this town the go-by, and I’ll see that your gangs’ll never drive another spike.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” said the other. “And now, let me tell you something. The Billy Geerusalem claims are so rich that the new camp of Liggs, that I propose to start on the Huntington ranch, will be the metropolis of Soapweed Plains inside of a month. Do you happen to know Mrs. Agatha Liggs?”