"Not this year perhaps, but next. You and Marsh have whipped me this time; but the salmon will come again, and I'll run my plant in spite of hell!"
Wayne Wayland made as if to speak, but Boyd went on unheeding: "You've taken a dislike to me, but your conduct shows that you fear me. You are afraid I'll succeed, and I will."
"Brave talk!" said the older man. "But you owe one hundred thousand dollars, and your stockholders will learn of your mismanagement."
"Your persecution, you mean!" cried the other. "I can explain. They will wait another year. I will raise more money, and they will stand by me."
"Perhaps I know more about that than you do."
Emerson strode toward the desk menacingly, crying, in a quivering voice:
"I warn you to keep your hands off of them. By God! don't try any of your financial trickery with me, or I'll—"
Wayne Wayland leaped from his chair, his face purple and his eyes flashing savagely.
"Leave this yacht!" he thundered. "I won't allow you to insult me; I won't stand your threats. I've got you where I want you, and when the time comes you'll know it. Now, get out!" He stretched forth a great square hand and closed it so fiercely that the fingers cracked. "I'll crush you—like that!"
Boyd turned and strode from the cabin.