"It appealed to you yesterday," persisted Dave.
"But not to-day. Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once. Tell McMurray so."
Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room. He had been checkmated, but he did not know how. In some way Steelman had got to the financier with this story that had damned the project. The new treasurer of the Jackpot Company was much distressed. If his connection with the company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once.
He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to warm his heart.
"You don't remember me, Mr. West?"
The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and gave a little whoop. "Damn my skin, if it ain't the boy who bluffed a whole railroad system into lettin' him reload stock for me!" He hooked an arm under Dave's and led him straight to the bar. "Where you been? What you doin'? Why n't you come to me soon as you … got out of a job? What'll you have, boy?"
Dave named ginger ale. They lifted glasses.
"How?"
"How?"
"Now you tell me all about it," said West presently, leading the way to a lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery.