His raving outburst continued for a while in this strain.  His voice had the high and squealing pitch of a wild pig caught fast by a foot; on his pink, fleshy face, now distended with anger, was a look, too, of porcine hate and fury.  The cynical and patronizing manner he usually affected had dropped off, leaving revealed his actual coarse, spiteful, greedy, craven spirit—­a creature of infinite meanness.  At length, however, Gretzinger’s torrent of abuse diminished until it ended in a last muddy dripping of threats and curses.  With an effort he strove to pull himself together and assume a composure his eyes belied, while he lighted another of his offensive Turkish cigarettes.

After a time he said shortly: 

“You can’t bluff me.  When you fellows get down to my figures, then we’ll do business.”

“Look out!  Your coat is scorching—­or is it only that tobacco?” Bryant rejoined.

Gretzinger stepped hastily aside and felt behind him, where his hand moved about on the hot cloth fabric with searching movements.  The solicitude for his garment thus quickened seemed to effect the final dispersion of his inward heat.

“Well, are we going to get together on an arrangement?” he questioned, when assured his coat was uninjured.

“I stated my terms—­fifty thousand,” Lee said.  “That or nothing.”

“You won’t get it.”

“Then there’s the alternative of the bondholders putting up money enough to finish the work.”

“That, neither.”

“All right, Gretzinger,” Bryant stated, rising.  “You have an idea that I’ll give in——­”

“Yes, I have.  You’ll grab this ten thousand I offer, grab it quick by to-morrow night, which is the limit I set for it to remain open.  I’ve seen men before in a tight hole who swore they wouldn’t take the terms handed them, but they always did in the end, and so will you.  Only a fool wouldn’t.  And I fancy Carrigan won’t sacrifice a good piece of work in a dull season and pull off his men and teams.”

Pat hoisted himself off his seat stiffly.

“Why don’t your outfit sell instead of trying to buy?” he asked, crossing to Lee’s desk and obtaining a can of tobacco sitting there.  “I suppose they’ll sell.”  He began to stuff his pipe, pressing the tobacco into the bowl with a brown forefinger.

“Certainly; they would unload what they have in this rotten project so fast that the bonds would smoke.  But who in the devil would touch them?”

“I might.”

“You?” Gretzinger began to laugh.  “What have you besides your outfit?  They’re not taking worn-out fresnos in exchange to-day, thank you.”

“And what are the three bondholders you represent worth?” Pat inquired, in a nettled tone.

“Half a million each, or more.”

Carrigan’s brows rose contemptuously.

“Is that all?” he exclaimed.  “Why, from the way you talked, I thought they were real financiers!  And they’re only piffling tin-horns, after all.  What d’you know about that, Lee?” Pat turned to the engineer with an amazed air.