"It only remains to decide as to the sensible course, then," Hamilton rejoined, coldly. "I suppose, in this instance, it means that I should decide to follow the course you have outlined for me. Now, I have your offer before me on this paper. Briefly stated, your proposition to me is that you will take all the boxes I am able to deliver to you--that is to say, you agree to keep my factory busy. For this promise on your part, you require two stipulations from me as conditions. The first is that I shall not sell any boxes to the Independent Plug Tobacco Factory; the second is that I shall sell my boxes to you at a regular price of eleven cents each. I believe I have stated the matter accurately. Have I not?" "You have stated it exactly," Morton assured the questioner. "That is the situation in a nutshell." "Unfortunately," Hamilton went on, speaking with great precision, "it's quite impossible for me to make any such agreement with you--utterly impossible." He looked his adversary squarely in the eye, and shook his head in emphatic negation. Carrington merely emitted a bourdon grunt. Morton, however, maintained the argument, undeterred by the finality of Hamilton's manner. "But, my dear boy," he exclaimed quickly, "we're not asking you to do anything that you haven't done already. Why, you furnished me with one lot at nine cents." "At a loss, in order to secure custom against competition," was the prompt retort. "It costs exactly eleven cents to turn out those boxes." Morton persisted in his refusal to admit the justice of the young man's refusal to accept the terms offered. "But, my dear boy," he continued, "take your last four bids. I mean the bids that you and Carrington made before we bought out Carrington. The first, time, Carrington bid eleven cents; while you bid fourteen. On the second lot Carrington bid thirteen; and you bid nine." "You illustrate my contention very well," Hamilton interrupted. "At eleven cents a box, Carrington hardly quit even. It was for that reason he bid thirteen on the following lot; while I, because I was bound to get a look in on the business, even at a loss--why, I bid nine cents. The result was that I got the order, and it cost me a loss of just two cents on each and every box to fill it." A contented rumble from the large man emphasized the truth of the statement. Nothing daunted, Morton resumed his narrative of operations in the box trade. "On the third lot, Carrington bid eight cents, while you bid eighteen." Carrington's indignation was too much for reticence. "Yes, I got that order," he roared, wrathfully. "It was a million box order, too--" The withering look bestowed on the speaker by Morton caused him to break off and to cower as abjectly in his chair as was possible to one of his bulk. "His success in being the winner in that bout cost him three cents each for the million boxes," Hamilton commented. "Well?"