"Thanks. You've surely got keen eyes. Black eyes are mostly keen. Say, I wonder how much sense they reckon they've seen in me?"
"Well, I should say they've seen that you reckon David Slosson makes a tolerable companion to ride around with. Which is some sense."
Hazel turned, and her pretty eyes looked straight into his. A man of less vanity might have questioned the first glance of them. But Slosson only saw the following smile.
"Just tolerable," she cried, in a fashion which could not give offense. Then she abruptly changed the subject. "Get through your business at—the office?" she inquired casually.
Slosson's eyes hardened. In a moment the memory of Gordon swept through his brain in a tide of swift, hot anger.
"There's nothing doing," he said harshly.
Hazel turned. A quick alarm was shining in her eyes, and the man interpreted it exactly. Caution was abruptly cast to the winds.
"Say, Hazel," he cried hotly, "I'm going to tell you something. Your father's a—a fool. Oh, I don't mean it just that way. I mean he's a fool to set that boy running things for him. He's plumb killed your golden goose. We've broken off negotiations. That's all. The railroad don't need Buffalo Point."
"But what's Gordon done?" the girl cried, for the moment off her guard. "Father gave him instructions. You had an offer to make, and it was to be considered—duly."
"What's Gordon done?" The man's eyes were hot with fury. "So that's it—'Gordon.' He's 'Gordon,' eh?" All in a moment venom surged to the surface. The man's unwholesome features went ghastly in his rage. "He turned me—me out of the office. He told me to go to hell. Say, that pup has flung your father's whole darned concern right on to the rocks. So it's 'Gordon,' eh? To everybody else he's 'Van Henslaer,' but to you he's 'Gordon.' That's why he's on to me, I guessed as much. Well, say, you've about mussed up things between you. My back's right up, and I'm cursed if the railroad 'll move for the benefit of those interested in Buffalo Point."