Another man might have hastened to meet the crisis. But the gray wolf was of a different mettle. He let the envelope lie untouched until after he had pulled out a drawer in the desk, found his box of cigars, and had leisurely selected and lighted one of the fat black monstrosities. When he tore the envelope across, the photographic print fell out, and he studied it carefully for many seconds before he read the accompanying documents. For a little time after he had tossed the papers aside there was a silence that bit. Then he said, slowly: "So that's your raise, is it? Where does the game stand, right now?" "You stand to lose." Again the biting silence; and then: "You don't think I'm fool enough to give you back your ammunition so that you can use it on me, do you?" "Those papers and that picture are copies: the originals are in a sealed envelope in Mr. Raymer's safe. If you haven't taken your hands off of Mr. Raymer's throat by three o'clock this afternoon, the envelope will be opened." Jasper Grierson's teeth met in the marrow of the fat cigar. Equally without heat and without restraint, he stripped her of all that was womanly, pouring out upon her a flood of foul epithets and vile names garnished with bitter, brutal oaths. She shrank from the crude and savage upbraidings as if the words had been hot irons to touch the bare flesh, but at the end of it she was still facing him hardily. "Calling me bad names doesn't change anything," she pointed out, and her tone reflected something of his own elemental contempt for the euphemisms. "You have five hours in which to make Mr. Raymer understand that you have stopped trying to smash him. Wouldn't it be better to begin on that? You can curse me out any time, you know." Jasper Grierson's rage fit, or the mud-volcano manifestation of it, passed as suddenly as it had broken out. Swinging heavily in his chair he took up the papers again and reread them thoughtfully. "You had a spotter working this up, I suppose: who is he, and where is he?" he demanded. "That is my affair. He was a high-priced man and he did his work well. You can see that for yourself." Once more the papers were tossed aside and the big chair swung slowly to face the situation. "Let's see what you want: show up your hand." "I have shown it. Take the prop of your backing from behind this labor trouble, and let Mr. Raymer settle with his men on a basis of good-will and fair dealing." "Is that all?" "No. You must cancel this pine-land deal. You have broken bread with Mr. Galbraith as a friend, and I'm not going to let you be worse than an Arab." Grierson's shaggy brows met in a reflective frown, and when he spoke the bestial temper was rising again. "When this is all over, and you've gone to live with Raymer, I'll kill him," he said, with an out-thrust of the hard jaw; adding: "You know me, Madge."