now as much about the manufacture of gas as any one,"
replied Sippens, almost contentiously. "I worked at it for a number of
years."

"Well, now, Mr. Sippens, I was thinking that it might be interesting to
start a little gas company in one of these outlying villages that are
growing so fast and see if we couldn't make some money out of it. I'm
not a practical gas man myself, but I thought I might interest some one
who was." He looked at Sippens in a friendly, estimating way. "I have
heard of you as some one who has had considerable experience in this
field here in Chicago. If I should get up a company of this kind, with
considerable backing, do you think you might be willing to take the
management of it?"

"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 a hunter with horn, to the chase.

"Well, Mr. Cowperwood," he replied, with less defiance and more
camaraderie, "if you could show me that you have a legitimate
proposition in hand I am a practical gas man. I know al