Gretzinger’s speech as he and Bryant advanced toward the girls and the gray runabout was quick, determined, and uncompromising. His fleshy, aggressive face, that lacked the tan of his companion’s, was fixed in dogmatic lines. From time to time he switched his gauntlets against the skirt of his fashionably cut ulster with lively impatience.
“I certainly demand that these changes be made and shall recommend to the bondholders,” he was saying, “that they also insist on them.”
“Can’t help it if you do,” was Lee Bryant’s reply. “I know what I’m talking about: concrete is necessary. No irrigation engineer to-day who knows his business would think of anything else. Mr. McDonnell’s man approved its use, the state engineer likewise. The latter wouldn’t allow the change even should I ask it.”
“Pah! He’d not concern himself either way. I know how these state officers run things. Leave it to me; I’ll arrange the matter.”
“Not with my consent. And he’ll never grant the change over my opposition.”
Gretzinger gave his knee an angry slap.
“I tell you it must be different, Bryant. In addition to the bonds my men have their share of stock. They consider this stock bonus as part of their investment. It is. And they intend to see that that stock earns every dollar—every dollar, do you understand?—that’s to be made out of the project. I’m here to protect their interests, and shall do it.”
“Well?”
“Now, Bryant, be reasonable. It means more profit in your own pocket, too. You’re no philanthropist pure and simple, I take it, and want to make money out of this thing. So agree to this change. You’ll make a saving both in time and cash. Carrigan’s contract doesn’t include the building of these drops; you plan to do that yourself; and if you substitute wood for concrete in these drops and in the gate-frames, it would lessen the labour cost, the material cost, the freighting cost, the——”