“I’ve got him dead!” he soliloquized complacently.
He hooked his arm affectionately in the Montana miner’s and said, “My dear friend, I have never met a man with whom I would rather be associated in business than with you. How much capital could you contribute?”
“I will think it over, Mr. Wheeler. By the way what business do you propose that we shall go into?”
“I will think it over and report to you.”
By this time they had reached the theater. The play soon commenced. Mr. Pettigrew enjoyed it highly, for he had not had much opportunity at the West of attending a high class theatrical performance.
When the play ended, Louis Wheeler said, “Suppose we go to Delmonico’s and have a little refreshment.”
“Very well.”
They adjourned to the well known restaurant, and Mr. Pettigrew ordered an ice and some cakes, but his companion made a hearty supper. When the bill came, Louis Wheeler let it lie on the table, but Mr. Pettigrew did not appear to see it.
“I wonder if he expects me to pay for it,” Wheeler asked himself anxiously.
“Thank you for this pleasant little supper,” said Pettigrew mischievously. “Delmonico’s is certainly a fine place.”