Burns leant forward in his chair.
“Is it going to be big?”
“A real flood—if I’m not foolish.”
“Will you talk to-night at Max’s feed?” inquired Doc Finch, a staunch believer in publicity.
“Not a whisper.”
“Why not?” inquired Burt Riddell.
“Because I got a deal too much that’s worth saying,” McLagan laughed. “The only time it’s safe to talk is when you haven’t.”
Jubilee chuckled appreciatively.
“I’m buying that highball right away, Abe,” he cried. “And make it for the whole darn house, if it’s my last buck. McLagan’s right. Don’t shout till you want. Then shout like hell. Folk’ll hand it you if it’s only to keep you quiet while they shout. Oil? And it’s coming? Are there any options lying around? Are we to be in on the ground floor, Mac, or is the darn door bolted and locked?”