abstraction, hooked his chin over his shoulder and scowled on the
intruder; a man bringing business into that office that day was an
intruder, according to Mr. Britt's opinion.

Stickney walked close to the desk and displayed a flash of curiosity
when Britt laid his forearm over his writing.

"Spring pome, or only a novel?" queried Stickney, genially, figuring
that such a question was the height of humor when put to a man of Tasper
Britt's flinty, practical nature.

Mr. Britt, like a person touched smartly by a brad, twitched himself in
his chair and asked in chilly tone what he could do for Stickney. The
caller promptly became considerable of an icicle himself. He laid down a
little sheaf of papers beside the shielding forearm.

"If you'll O. K. them notes for discount, I'll be much obliged, and
won't take up valuable time."

"We're tightening up on discounts--calling in many loans, too," stated
President Britt, with financial frigidity.

"I know all about your calling loans, Mr. Britt. Much obliged. It makes
a crackerjack market for me in the cattle business. They've got to raise
money, and I'm setting my own prices." Stickney thawed and beamed
on Britt with a show of fraternal spirit, as if the banker were a
co-conspirator in the job of shaking down the public. "However, my notes
there are all good butchers' paper--sound as a pennyroyal hymn! I've got
to have the cash so as to steal more cattle while the market is as it
is."