“Don’t Mister me,” said Nace. “I’m plain Jim Nace. I’m one of the boys. I work hard and live hard and no man can put a finger on any act of mine and say it’s crooked.”
“Nonsense,” smiled Hatton. “There is no need of this play-acting.”
Nace did not seem to resent this bit of skepticism, but grinned broadly as much amused, and modified, “Well, no one can prove any act of mine is crooked.”
Hatton tapped his desk impressively. “Now, Nace, I know you are crooked. There isn’t a straight hair in your head. But let’s be frank with each other. President Thaxter will be here this afternoon. I must have your ultimatum as to the Flat-Top holdings. We know your timber ends at the line we claim. I have men in the woods now to prove it.”
“And they’ll prove nothing,” serenely assured Nace.
“Perhaps,” agreed Hatton; “they may not. And if they do not I want to know how the matter shall be compromised. How much will you take for that timber if we decide not to carry the matter into court?”
Nace rose and shook his fist angrily at the manager, and shouted, “You have got in the way of thinking I am crooked and that because
