The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

608 He toppled over backward and managed to throw his hand above his head into the spokes of a wheel of the chassis next the one he had been working on. With a groan the man had pulled his arm free. The hand hung limp from the wrist. Orton’s first thought was to do what he could to relieve the pain. He bent over and touched the injured member. Jackson yelled agonizingly. “Well, do you want a doctor or the hos- pital?” Orton demanded, a little angered by the man’s iack of nerve. “The hospital,” Jackson half groaned and half gr owled. “T ain’t got no money to pay a doctor.” It was at this instant that the hulking boy stepped into the salesroom. Orton did not note his disappearance until he gave up the attempt to lift the father into the “‘junk- car” for a quick run to St. Michael’s Hos- pital, only five blocks up’ Central Avenue, The boy did not answer his call. Orton hurried in search of him, since his renewed efforts only brought fresh groans ~ from Jackson’s lips. The youth was just hanging up the telephone receiver. “The ambulance will be here in a min- ute,” he announced. “What did you do that for?” Hardy de- manded impatiently. ‘‘We could have taken him to St. Michael’s in a minute.” But the thing was so much after the manner of a fool boy that Orton paid no attention to getting no reply. The ambu- lance surgeon arrived with his machine in about ten minutes. He made a brief exami- nation. “Ts it broken?” Orton asked solicitously. ““Can’t tell, He seems to have some inter- nal pain,” the surgeon replied briefly. Jack- con had tried to rise, then sunk back with a cry of woe. “Well, ”’ the doctor decided, “if he wants to go, I suppose we’d better take him.” The boy accompanied the ambulance on iis noisy rush down Broad Street. Orton walked back to his desk and dropped into the chair. “What,” he repeated the question he had been asking himself when interrupted— “What in Heaven’s name is the use?” He was not mourning in sympathy for Jackson’s wounds. New Jersey provided by statute a few years back that no injured employee should ever deserve any sym- pathy. The employer’s liability is some- thing to get sympathetic about. But Or- THE ARGOSY. ton’s query was to receive yet other i imme- diate reinforcement. The man who walked into the place was the one for whom Orton had been tele- phoning ever since he realized his need of an immediate buyer for one of the cars left by Brant’s and Jefferies’s cancelations. But he walked with an apologetic manner that was ominous. Orton could not bring himself to. speak until he had heard Mr. Peters’s «request. ‘‘Mr. Orton, I came to ask if you’d mind my canceling my order?” Mr. Peters hur- ried to explain: “I’ve just found out that I can get a car immediately. And— “I’ve been trying to get you to tell you I could let you have your car by to-mor- row night,” Orton interrupted. Mr. Peters looked crestfallen. “Is that so?” he said gloomily, “I’m sorry. I suppose then ll have to— No, I believe I’d rather lose my deposit. This other car’s a six and only a hundred dollars more than yours, and— “Do you mind telling me what car it is?” Orton asked. It was time to do some dip- lomatic knocking. “Tt’s a Rollerton,” Peters answered. “I was told a month back that there was no hope of getting them for from thirty to sixty days. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have ordered any other. But it seems that the company has enlarged its plant and is putting out the 1916 cars at a great rate. The agent had this one turned back on him out of twenty-five orders he filled this week. I happened to hear of it, and—” “Of course,” Orton began, “T don’t like to knock another car. But—” “Oh, I know the car,” Peters stopped this. ‘My wife’s been riding around At- lantic City in one of them that belongs to Miss Atherton—a friend of hers. And she’s so set upon having one that I’d rather lose the fifty than—” ‘You won’t have to lose it, Mr. Peters,” Orton spoke hastily. “Your good will is worth more to us than fifty dollars.” And he wrote out another check with a hand that shook badly. Twenty-five Rollerton Sixes at a clip! Out of the job he had thrown up another agent had already collected more in com- missions than he could now hope to clear in two years! What was the use of trying to get into business for one’s self? Mr, Peters was still thanking him, while EOPMICLOOOKS (E@)