“I shouldn’t think of attempting such a thing. I am merely endeavouring to discover your state of mind. You’re strong on muscle, Jim, and I admire your build, but I’m beginning to doubt whether your brain equals your frame. There was a time when your equipment would have been victorious, but those days are long since past. Nowadays it’s brain that wins every time, and in every country. Physical force has had to give way before it. Jimmy, my boy, you’re out of date.”
“Brain isn’t going to help you any,” said Dean, evidently annoyed by these strictures on his mentality.
“Perhaps it won’t, but if there was a corresponding brain in your head, I’d appeal to it, and probably win. Are all your men here as stupid as you, Jim?”
Jim rose up from his chair, a forbidding frown on his brow.
“Look here, stranger,” he called out, “I’ve had enough of that line of talk.”
“Oh no, you haven’t. Please sit down. This line of talk is only beginning, and I say, Jim, lay aside that pipe, and smoke the Havana cigar. It will put reason into your head if anything will.”
Some of the company laughed, and Jim sat down, seeing that his opponent failed to show any fear at his captors’ threatening attitude. He tried to change the course of the conversation into a less personal channel.
“You see, Mr. Stranleigh, we’re short on tobacco, and I want to keep this cigar until to-morrow. I can tell by the smell it’s a good one.”
“That’s all right,” said Stranleigh, “I have plenty more of them down at the house, and when they are finished, I’ll telegraph east for a fresh supply. If you will let me know your favourite brand of tobacco, I’ll order a ton of it at the same time.”
For a moment Jim’s eyes twinkled, then they narrowed into their usual caution.