The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

YOUNG tation. His voice was hard and cutting, as he said: “Vou start that sort of thing already, eh? Well, I imagined that college education would put some of those new fangled ideas in your head. Let me tell you, Ben, that such notions have no place in the Empo- rium. What it has been, it will always be! I have run this business for thirty years, and it has always been good enough for me; we shall have no changes at this late date!”’ But instead of becoming depressed at his father’s words, Ben allowed that encourag- ing smile of his to flash to his lips. ‘‘New blood is what you need, dad,” he declared, ‘‘and I’m here to supply it. But let’s get down to business. I want to shake hands with all my old chums. Curly Haw- kins, Snake Simpkins, and the rest. Good- by; see you later!” As he disappeared Bruce Cameron shook his head, and what was suspiciously like a groan issued from his lips. “New blood,” he snorted. “Just as I thought. College did not make a man of him after all. But by all that’s holy—I will! He’ll learn this business as I learned it. From the ground up, and no high-fan- dangled notions will distort his mind!” And for the first time in all his thirty years of making money, Bruce Cameron spat on the floor. Il. CoNTRARY to all expectations, Ben Cam- eron did not elaborate on his plans of inject- ing new blood into the business. Bruce, who knew the strain of determination with which he had endowed his son, expected trouble, but none came. Cheerfully Ben took up his burdens, and the methods that his father laid down. First on the floor proper, where he sold; then af- ter a week, in the office, where he met all the salesmen, and tried his hand at buying. To the watchful eyes of the old man, Ben was to be a chip off the old block. He was shrewd, keen, clever, and Bruce Cameron chuckled with joy, as Ben succeeded in driv- ing bargain after bargain. But the quietness with which Ben took up his duties was simply the calm before the storm. It was a month after he had started in that the first bomb was fired. Bruce had acceded to his son’s requests that he take a rest now, and it was nine o’clock before he arrived in the mornings. BLOOD. 759 Ben had taken a lot of detail work off his hands, and the manner in which he handled it brought pride to the old man’s heart. Now, as he came down on this particular morning, he felt in the best of spirits. Ben had shown that he was the man he hoped him to be, and old Bruce was at peace with the world. But he was in for a wondrous surprise. As he approached the old Emporium, he was surprised at the sounds of labor which asailed his ears. Hammerings, voices raised in commands, and before his astonished eyes across the doors was stuck a huge sign which read: Alterations going on for a bigger, better Emporium, but business continues just the same. COME IN! For perhaps ten minutes, old Bruce, staid as the Pyramids, fixed his gaze on the appalling legend. Why, for thirty years his Emporium had stood there without an alteration, except minor repairs. It was sacrilegious. It was a supreme attempt to disregard his ideals. When the first sense of horror wore off, he threw back his shoulders, and stalked in- side, past the nauseating sign, his cane thumping the floor. The scene that met his eyes then served as the last straw. Standing in the center of the floor, a smile on his lips, was his son, directing a score of men in the demolishing of counters and shelves that for over a quarter of a century had held his goods. ‘Ben! 1) The word shot out like the report of a pistol. The young fellow looked up, and waved a hand. ‘Morning, dad, how are you?” he called. “Come to the office,” barked his father, cheeks reddening from the rage that boiled within him. “In five minutes, dad; I want to superin- tend these particular alterations first.” “You'll come this instant!” bawled his father, emphasizing the words with thumps of the cane. “All right,” assented Ben, leaping from the débris. In silence the old trader led the way to the office. Not until he had closed the door, and strode to the desk, did he vouch- safe another word. COMMICOOOKS (C@