"Oh, I know all about this gas field," Mr. Sippens was about to
say. "It can't be done." But he changed his mind before opening
his lips. "If I were paid enough," he said, cautiously. "I suppose
you know what you have to contend with?"

"Oh yes," Cowperwood replied, smiling. "What would you consider
'paid enough' to mean?"

"Oh, if I were given six thousand a year and a sufficient interest
in the company--say, a half, or something like that--I might
consider it," replied Sippens, determined, as he thought, to
frighten Cowperwood off by his exorbitant demands. He was making
almost six thousand dollars a year out of his present business.

"You wouldn't think that four thousand in several companies--say
up to fifteen thousand dollars--and an interest of about a tenth
in each would be better?"

Mr. Sippens meditated carefully on this. Plainly, the man before
him was no trifling beginner. He looked at Cowperwood shrewdly
and saw at once, without any additional explanation of any kind,
that the latter was preparing a big fight of some sort. Ten years
before Sippens had sensed the immense possibilities of the gas
business. He had tried to "get in on it," but had been sued,
waylaid, enjoined, financially blockaded, and finally blown up.
He had always resented the treatment he had received, and he had
bitterly regretted his inability to retaliate. He had thought his
days of financial effort were over, but here was a man who was
subtly suggesting a stirring fight, and who was calling him, like