The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

COCHRANE HANDS OUT A LEMON. ment could be deduced from the tempers of the two men on this black day, when the seriousness of their financial status had been driven home to them by the stoppage of their*credit in many directions. “A little peeved, Bunny? Well, I’ve given our position a careful study and I think I have found a remedy.” ‘““A remedy? What on earth can save us, you poor simp?”’ “We could sell this place, and start in another line,” was the reply. Bunny greeted the suggestion with a scornful laugh. “Why, so we could,” he rejoined with biting sarcasm, “‘and get a bonus per head for the rabbits, I suppose. This country has gone to. your brain, Jim. You can’t stand prosperity.” You will notice that friend Bunny had developed somewhat from the callow youth who had landed in Australia a few months before, a shining mark for all the “con” men within a radius of a hundred miles. “My idea is to sell it for about twenty- five thousand dollars, and even then have to be begged to part with it,” was the un- ruffled response of the senior partner, a past master in the gentle art of “‘putting one over.” “Now then, Jim, you’re at your old tricks, after our agreement to run straight,’”’ Bunny commented severely. “VYou’ve got me dead wrong, Bunny; you are jumping at conclusions, in spite of the warning in the dear old song: *“‘T}o not jump at your conclusions, Turn things over, and you find That shirt-fronts are delusions; They are dickeys tied behind.’ ” “Aw, quit fooling, and let us get down to business. Anything that will get us out of here, even at a loss, I’m in on, so long as it isn’t against the law.” “Let me refresh your memory then. Perhaps the mention of our wrongs will arouse even you, oh law-abiding Bunny, and drive you to desperate measures. “We paid our ten thousand bucks,” Cochrane continued, “to that old confi- 159 dence man Sandy McKechnie, and gave him a mortgage for the balance. For that we got this waterless, rabbit-infested hunk of dirt he called a farm. We were babies in his hands, and he got away with it. Now I propose to sell this place back to him, but for more than double what we paid him. See?” “You big boob! Now I know you’re crazy. I’m going out to kill a rabbit for dinner,’’ was all the reply the disappointed and disgusted Bunny would give. “Here, let that rabbit wait. I tell you it can be done,” insisted Cochrane. “Like Hades, it can—not,” retorted the disgusted Bunny. ‘‘How?” “Do you know what psychology is?” Cochrane asked. “Thank God, I always knew enough to steer clear of anything ending in ‘ology,’ ” was Bunny’s simple answer. “Well, I'll tell you. It’s the method universally used by the knowing to hand a lemon to a thieving Scotchman, so that he’ll mistake it for an orange.” “Tf that’s so, I’m strong for it, and I'll say this, Jim, that if high-browism teaches a guy how to sell a bum place like this, it ought to be made compulsory in all the schools.” “Tm going to steer myself up against Mac’s roll just like that chap who used to rob the rich to help the poor—Robin Hood.” “Well, Jim, I guess you’ve got this doped out to rights. Go ahead, and give me my lines.” “To start with, that discovery of oil over at Grafton has got all these Reubs dizzy, hasn’t it? They know as much about oil lands as you do about Biblical history, and every last one of them is fig- uring out that if oil has been found thirty miles off, it’s a good bet that it will turn up here. Is that right?” “Go on, I’m not contradictin’ you.” “The fools think they’re going to find it in cans, labeled ‘Best Standard.’ What was old man Cooper snooping about for when we lamped him yesterday? If he happened to find a greasy spot on a sheep, CORMMICLOOOKS (C@