IIJacob Coffey, Hay, Feed and Grain, Lime, Cement and Plaster, sat in the private office behind his store, with his feet on a center table from which the remains of a poker game had not yet been cleaned. He was a hard-bitten individual with tight-shut mouth and other features to correspond; his skin was tanned to leather, and all his teeth were gold, so far as they showed. He got his feet off the table and stood up; and when he heard Dad’s name, he said: “I was rather expecting you’d call.” Dad said: “I only jist heard about you. I came at fifty miles an hour.” So they were friends, and Mr. Coffey accepted a gold-foil cigar instead of his half-chewed one, and they sat down to business.
“Mr. Coffey,” said Dad, “I am an independent oil man; what the Big Five call one of the ‘little fellers’
