"Um!--well, because society's prejudiced against lifting, but
the Trust isn't. Do you know that's a great graft, Mr.
Obermuller--lifting wholesale? Why don't you get in?"

"Because a Trust is a lot of sailors on a raft who keep their
places by kicking off the drowning hands that clutch at it. Can
you fancy a fellow like Tausig stooping down to help me tenderly
on board to divide the pickings?"

"No, but I can fancy you grappling with him till he'd be glad to
take you on rather than be pulled off himself."

"You'd be in with the push, would you, Olden, if you were
managing?" he asked with a grin.

"I'd be at the top, wherever that was."

"Then why the deuce didn't you jump at Tausig's offer? Were you
really crafty enough--"

"I am artiste, Monsieur Obermuller," I gutturaled like
Mademoiselle Picotte, who dances on the wire. "I moost have
about me those who arre--who arre congeniale--"

"You monkey!" he laughed. "Then, when Tausig comes to buy your
contract--"

"We'll tell him to go to thunder."