“You certainly are a frank young man;” and Dameron brought the tips of his fingers together, and examined Jack Balcomb more critically. The promoter’s bold air pleased him.
“What piece of property was it you mentioned?” he asked with a feigned air of forgetfulness.
“You have made a fair sketch of it on that blotter,” said Balcomb, grinning. “That triangle is unmistakable,—that’s the creek there on the uneven side.”
Dameron looked down at the blotter over which his pencil had been traveling unconsciously. He had indeed sketched an outline of the plot of ground, and he looked up at Balcomb with a shrewd smile.
“You are a clever young man,—a very clever young man. I am glad to enjoy your acquaintance. You may go now.”
He resettled his glasses on his nose and picked up his pencil. The interview had ceased to interest him, and he would sustain his dignity by dismissing Balcomb as though the young man were a school-boy.
Balcomb laughed and slapped his leg.
“Do you know, I like you! I think we’re going to do some business together some day. They told me you were a terrible frost, and I guess you are too many for the most of them. Not many men know how to carry on a trade, but you have the right idea. Always turn a man down on a first interview; that’s one of my own principles.”
Ezra Dameron