CHAPTER III
Reedy Jenkins lighted a very good cigar and sat studying Rogeen with a leisurely air. Bob was a good salesman and began at once: "Understand you have been buying up leases, and I came up to sell you some farm machinery."
Reedy took the cigar from his wide mouth and laughed at the joke. "I don't raise cotton, I leave that to Chinamen—I raise prices. I'm not a farmer but a financier."
Then returning the cigar to the corner of his mouth he remarked with a pink judicialness:
"I should say you have a way with the ladies."
Bob blushed. "I never discovered it, if I have."
"I have, myself." Reedy bit the end of his cigar and nodded with a doggish appreciation of his own fascination. "But I'm too busy just now to use it."
"Rogeen"—Reedy laid the smoking cigar on some papers on his desk and faced Bob—"I've had my eye on you for some time. I am buying up leases across the line. I need a good man to work over there. What is Dayton paying you?"
"Twenty a week." Bob was surprised at the turn of the conversation.
"I'll give you a hundred and fifty a month to start, and there'll be a fine chance for promotion."