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Rimrock read it in the office where Mary sat at work and threw it carelessly down on her desk. "Well, it's come to a showdown," he said as she glanced at it. "The question is who's running this mine?" "And the answer?" she enquired in that impersonal way she had; and Rimrock started as he sensed the subtle challenge. "Why we are!" he said bluffly. "You and me, of course.
And of Mary Fortune, the typist, as he had known her at first but now she was sending letters like this: "DEAR SIR: You are hereby notified that the regular Annual Meeting of the Stockholders of the Tecolote Mining Company will be held at the offices of the Company, in the Tecolote Hotel," etc., etc. Rimrock threw down the letter and cursed himself heartily for a fool, a chump and a blackguard.
He hurled himself with desperate vehemence against the door so treacherously locked and with a crash it leapt from its hinges and he stumbled into the room. From where he stood Rimrock looked about in a daze, for the room was stripped and bare.
"Well, now isn't that fierce!" he muttered and Mrs. Hardesty tittered nervously. "Ah, well," she said, "it's soon discovered, the reason why she left you so abruptly. But didn't she say a word about it? That doesn't seem very lover-like, to me. What makes you think the child was jealous? Did she mention my name at all?" "Nope," mumbled Rimrock, "she never mentioned it.
She knew all his ways now, his swift impulsive hatreds and his equally impulsive affections; and she knew, as a woman, just when to oppose him and when to lead him on. She knew him, one might say, almost too well for her success; for Rimrock was swayed more by his heart than his head, and at times she seemed a little cold.
But Mary Fortune, with an understanding smile, shook her head and voted no. "How do you vote?" challenged Stoddard, trying to spur him to the leap, but Rimrock had sensed the chasm. "I vote no!" he said with answering scowl. "I'll take care of Mr. Hicks, myself. You must take me for a sucker," he added as an afterthought, but Stoddard was again wearing his mask.
"Very well," answered Stoddard, his voice low and colorless, "I shall turn the matter over to my attorney and refuse to vote the dividend." "Ah, I see," she murmured and glanced at Rimrock who answered with a curl of the lip. "Mr. President," she said, "I move that the money at present in our treasury be set aside as a profit and divided among the stockholders pro rata."
"Yes, I am," she answered and smiled cryptically. "Well, I pass!" he exploded and, struggling to his feet, he lurched out upon the street. From the highest pinnacle of success to the black depths of despair is a long way to drop in one hour and if Rimrock Jones went the way of all flesh it is only another argument for prohibition.
It was led by L. W. in his cactus-proof automobile, and he reported all the ground as staked. He reported further that the ground was worthless, but Rimrock Jones only smiled. "Yes, all that's left," he answered grimly. "I made you out a sucker, for once.
It was dangerous ground and Rimrock trod it warily, buying Navajoa in the most roundabout ways; yet month after month increased his holdings until his credit at the bank was stretched. If they asked for collateral he could turn over his Navajoa, although that would tip off his hand; but his note was still good and he went in deeper as the date of the annual meeting drew near.
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