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Updated: May 29, 2025
These collisions McWade had not sought. On the contrary, when, for instance, outside the yards at Fort Worth his unobtrusive presence on the blind baggage had been discovered, he had done his best to avoid trouble. He had explained earnestly that he simply must leave the city by that particular train. The circumstances were such that no other train would do at all, so he declared.
"You could lay me against it if it looks like you say it does," McWade declared. "This bootlegger, being half dead and non compost mentis, would help put it over with a man like Nelson; he'd set him in a draught while he was signing the option. I'll guarantee the seepage to last for a month, even if he has the well bailed out every day, and the creek will carry oil for half a mile."
Gray plans to keep him spending faster than he can get it in, and that's all right if it works, but if Mallow can bilk him for seventy-five thousand at one fell swipe Well, I'll bet my best gold tooth that the boss will stand the shock like a man." "I think you've both got Gray all wrong," said McWade. "He's too smart to be crooked."
Every well went down, or is going down, and every dollar we got right here on the street." "And all of them are dry, are they not?" McWade spoke up, defensively: "Sure. They were all wildcats of the wildest kind. But we don't deal in oil, we sell stock. Every issue we've put out has gone above par at some time or other, and that's playing the game square with our customers, ain't it?
"We'll make good, all right," McWade asserted. "Those customers are in luck dealing with a house like us. All they expect is a chance to get out with a profit and sting the next fellow. They don't want oil; they want a run for their money and a quick turn. We give it to them." "And do they always buy your issues?" "I ain't saying they do. Sometimes they're cold until you put on the Indian sign.
Divining rods, he well knew, were as old as the oil industry, but he was surprised to see that fully half of this audience appeared to put faith in the claim, and the other half were not entirely skeptical. A man at his side began reciting an experience of his own. McWade now introduced the miracle worker himself, and Gray rose on tiptoe to see him.
His original bet of ten to one still held, by the way, and once again he repeated that those who wished to sell out would be accommodated with the greatest alacrity. Only they mustn't return later and squawk. McWade confessed that he was neither angry nor offended at the recent attitude of suspicion he was merely amused. It made him laugh.
McWade possessed the gift of sidewalk oratory; Stoner posed as the practical field man whose word upon prospects was final. He it was who did the investigating, the "experting"; his partner was the bally-hoo. But competition grew steadily keener, other promoters followed their lead, and it became necessary to introduce new and original methods of gathering an audience.
"Momentary agitation has robbed our Professor of his habitual politeness a not unusual phenomenon of the preoccupied scientific mind." These words were directed at McWade and Stoner. "My name is Gray. Perhaps Doctor Mallow has made mention of me." "So you're the lad that threw pepper in his eyes?" Brick Stoner stared at the newcomer with undisguised interest. He rose, as did McWade.
Now, I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon my man and telling him exactly what I intend doing." The speaker rose and shook hands with the three precious scoundrels. When the door had closed behind him McWade inquired: "Now what do you make of that? Going to serve notice on his bird!" "Say! He's the hardest guy I ever saw," Stoner declared, admiringly.
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