The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

FOUR SPEEDS FOR FOREST HILL. had mentioned cheering: up the shipping clerk. With a quick glance behind him Orton hurried to the desk and the man who was writing as if to save his life from an internal explosion. “Excuse me, you’re the shipping clerk, aren’t you?” Orton began. “Yep,” came the response without an up- ward look. Orton extended one of his newly printed business cards with the Rollerton Com- pany’s name in big type and his own in small. He had to place it almost under the clerk’s nose. “Mr. Rollerton just told me I could take any cars I saw out here. I want those out on the freight-cars,” Orton said easily. Then the shipping-clerk looked up. Also he spoke up. We decline to undertake the task of separating the printable from the rest of his speech. “Oh,” Orton still spoke easily, “‘it’s all right. I’m the agent for the company at Newark, New Jersey. If I haven’t orders for all the cars out there I will have before they get to Newark.” “For the Lord’s sake, man, don’t you know those cars are already billed, shipped —along with ten thousand others we’ve been working night and day to load—all for E. J. DuSillaise—in New York? What do you want here, anyhow?” growled the clerk. “Just those cars. Mr. Rollerton just said i could have them.” Orton smiled benevolently as he spoke. He had bethought him to provide for some difficulty in satisfying the mind of the clerk. It was his left hand which he now rested on the desk under the clerk’s eyes. It was quickly lifted, all but one finger, which still held down the center of five bills arranged to show the ‘‘X”’ in the corner of each. “Can you change the billings for me right away?” Orton inquired softly. “T couldn’t do that,” the shipping man said slowly and regretfully, his eyes on the money. “Why not?” Orton wheedled. “You’re fired anyhow. You’ve got all the alibi you need. A duly accredited agent of the com- pany tells you that the president said he could have the cars. I’ve a witness that he said it, though I don’t really think he meant it. He thought he was joking.” “Ves, damn him!” snapped the clerk with sudden resumption of his anger. “He thought he was joking when he told me I’d 589 be able now to enjoy a summer vacation. If—if—if you'll double that ante, I’ll see you.” ‘““Can’t do it here,’ Orton readily re- sponded. ‘But [ll send you a perfectly good check as soon as the cars are in the Newark freight station of the Lehigh Valley road.”’ “T’ll come to your place for the cash,” the clerk decided. “I live in Newark anyhow.” Orton stayed long enough to see the clerk make out a bundle of fresh tags. ‘Then, fearful lest his presence betray the plot, he took the chance on the fellow’s honesty and hurried out. He would be taking chances until the cars were delivered to their purchasers. After that there was little the Rollerton Company could do to him. He felt almost as much cheered as if his mission had suc- ceeded. Human nature was made with a love for putting something over on the other fellow. Of course, having disposed of the thirty machines which were on the ten freight-cars at the factory, his agency for the Rollerton Company would come to an end, probably with something of a crash. But thirty cars would afford him a profit beyond any ordi- nary year’s work, and far beyond what he could get out of trying to sell the cars on long deferred delivery. -He would be approximately five thou- sand dollars ahead, besides his shop lease, equipment and demonstration car. Not since his first two attempts at the business had suffered tremendously by his inexperi- ence had he been able to quit an agency in such condition as this. He would be in a position to— Suddenly he sat up in his car, galvanized into fresh energy. Why bother with another company, another agency? Why not manufacture cars? be his own boss? Wouldn’t five thousand dollars in real money entitle him to twenty thousand worth of credit? Wasn’t the ‘junk car” he was driving ample demonstration of his ability to construct a car? Had he ever sold a car he could not have improved upon? An assembled car, it would be, of course —something built with the next to lowest price in view. An assembled car might be a little costlier to build. The profits still vastly exceeded those of selling as an agent. He must start small. He would sell his Why not COPMICLOOOKS (C@)