“Bowen, you say you want five dollars for that Apex Crown? Now, I’ll speak frankly. Apex Crown will be worth five dollars—but not for a few years. For the past week my men have been secretly buying it in at two cents; and now I want that block of yours. That or nothing! I’ll offer you par, one dollar, for that stock. If you refuse, I’ll wash my hands of the whole mess and throw what I’ve bought on the market at the present price. Speak quick! If I take the mine, it goes up in value. If I don’t take it, it’s dead.” Bowen stared at his cigar. He did not doubt that Dickover was in earnest. And suddenly a light broke upon him. It was vague and foggy, but it was light. “See here!” He leaned forward earnestly. “I’ll put this Apex Crown offer up to my friend—she’s a lady. I’ll go to my own room and call her up. In the mean time, you get Tonopah over long-distance. Anybody there you’d trust down to the ground?” Dickover, eying him, nodded. “Judge Lyman is my local attorney there and is one of the best men I know in the world.” “That goes for me. Well, you want low-grade ores of big body and zinc-silver mixture; same as the Apex Crown and Sunburst and Golden Lode, eh? All right. Now, I’ve had an ace up my sleeve for some years. I’ve called it the Big Bony, and it’s located down Rhyolite way. The ore runs zinc-silver strong, just like these others; only Big Bony has it in large quantities. “Until about ten minutes ago, Dickover, that group of claims was not worth a cuss. To you, if my guess is right, it’s now worth all the money I need in my business—say thirty thousand dollars. Judge Lyman knows all about it; has had assayers report on it, has visited the place himself with me, and owns a bunch of claims the other side of it. You call up Lyman before I come back.” “Yes?” prompted Dickover as Bowen paused. The magnate was keen-eyed, attentive. “That ore, I believe, is what you want. It’s really worth a big bunch more than thirty thousand; but I’m needing thirty thousand bad, right now! Will you buy it at that?” Dickover reached for the desk telephone. “I’ll talk to Lyman. His word is good for all the money I own.” “Good! I’ll be back pretty soon.” Bob Bowen sought his own room and requested the office to page Miss Ferguson, who was somewhere about the parlors. While waiting, he strode up and down savagely. Ten thousand dollars meant a fortune to this girl! If the offer was rejected, Dickover would carry out his word and flood the market with Apex Crown. Sooner than make Henderson rich, he would smash Apex Crown and Henderson together. The telephone jingled. Bowen caught up the receiver and heard Miss Ferguson’s voice. “This is Bob Bowen speaking, Miss Ferguson. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Dickover has made me an offer of ten thousand for your stock, and I want your advice.” He heard the girl’s voice catch. “Ten—ten thousand!”