“This is business,” says the man. “I want to do business with somebody who _can_ do business.” “You might t-try me,” says Mark, as calm and gentle as a kitten. “I’m the best in that line we got. If you got business to do with this m-m-mill, I calc’late you _got_ to do it with me.” “Huh!” says the man. “I’m p-p-perty busy,” says Mark. “If you got somethin’ you want to say you better git to the p-p-p’int.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “Very well,” said he; “I’ll get to the point. I represent the Middle-West Power Company. We own water-powers all over this state and other states. We have one below on this river and a couple above. You have a small power here that doesn’t amount to a great deal, but we’ll be willing to take it off your hands. Your dam is going to pieces and will need expensive repairs. I take it you own this dam and site?” “Yes.” “Well, we’ll take it off your hands—at a figure.” “What figure?” “I’m not prepared to say exactly, but if you like we can go into the matter thoroughly and then I’ll make you an offer.” “Don’t f-f-figger to sell,” says Mark. “We need this p-power to run our mill.” “But we want to buy,” said the man. “Uh-huh,” says Mark. “Well, if you want it bad, you kin have it. But you got to buy power _and_ mill. Mill’s no good without p-p-power, is it? I’ll figger up what the whole thing is worth to me, complete as it stands, and let you know.” “I’m not buying any mills, my friend. I guess you didn’t understand me. I represent the Middle-West Power Company.” He said it as a fellow might say he was the ambassador from England, or a special traveling-agent from the moon. “I heard that,” says Mark. “Then you must have heard that when we want to buy—we buy.” Mark looked the man right in the eye for a minute and didn’t say a word; then he asked, “What did you say your name was, mister?” The man handed him a card. “Amassa P. Wiggamore,” says Mark. “Well, Mr. Amassa P. Wiggamore, maybe you never heard of me—like I’ve heard of your company—but I’ll give you some news about me free of charge. When I sell I s-s-sell, and when I don’t want to sell I don’t sell, Power Company or no Power Company. I calc’late you was m-m-makin’ some kind of a threat.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll sell you this outfit,” says Mark, “for f-f-fifteen thousand dollars. That’s my f-first offer and that’s my l-last offer. You got a chance to take it or leave it.” Mr. Wiggamore laughed. “I’ll leave it,” said he. “Now look here, my young friend, we want this power and we’re going to have it. I’m willing to offer you a fair price, but if you don’t accept it now you’ll be mighty glad to accept a blame sight less before long.” Mark looked him in the eye a minute again and then stepped over to one side. “If you’ll turn around, mister,” says he, “and l-l-look where I’m pointin’ you’ll see a door. It leads outside. Jest take your Power Company in your hand and hike through it.”