“True, quite true,” rejoined Hartley. “But this is business, you know,” he added, “and I never discuss business in the morning. It makes me nervous.”
“Oh, thunder!” expostulated Connorton.
“Really quite nervous, I assure you,” insisted Hartley. “I’m hardly responsible for what I do when I’m annoyed that way.”
“Now, look here,” urged Connorton in desperation, “I want to go back now—just as soon as we can get ready—and I’ll give you five hundred to go with me.”
“But this is morning,” objected Hartley, “and I never discuss business in the morning.”
“A thousand,” added Connorton.
“Makes me nervous—quite irresponsible,” murmured Hartley, rising.
Very deliberately he walked down to the shelving rock, across it, and stepped, clothes and all, into ten feet of water.
“Help! Help!” screamed Connorton, rushing to the rock. “Save him!”
The two guides and Paulson came down and tried to pull the inventor out, but he objected.