Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

Avalanc x nips OMNES LD Sherwood Mitchell, president of what was known as the Northern System of railroads, looked quizzi- cally at young, well set-up, clean-faced Dexter Mitchell, his son. ‘“ But how about this five-hundred-dollar contract?” he asked. Dexter shook his head. “ll turn it down,” he answered; haven’t signed it.”’ ‘Five hundred dollars is a lot of money for playing a game of football,” observed his father. ‘‘ Man, you must be a hardy piece to have the professionals after you for the coming fall!” Dexter grinned. “I can stand some knocking about,” he acknowledged. ‘How many games does the contract call for?”’ be Six.” ‘That would bring you three thousand, sae i in all. A nice handful for such a young fellow,” mused the older man. ‘“ And you’re going to decline it?” Ves.”’ éc Why?” ‘‘ Because it’s time to go to work—real work,” replied Dexter. Sherwood Mitchell nodded. There was a little twinkle in his eyes as he gazed af- fectionately at his big son—as if in some way what Dexter had just said confirmed a belief the father had held. 19 he factics Ruseeli AL.Bo 8 ds ‘““That’s right, Dex! Somehow the idea of your playing professional football didn’t seem quite the thing. I’ve always figured on your good sense; I’ve felt that when you decided to turn your hand to business, to earning money, you’d come and tell me about it. I don’t say by any means that there’s anything wrong about the profes- sional game;*only I’m mighty pleased that you want to take up this other line.” He sat drumming his fingers on his desk a mo- ment. “* Well,” he said finally, ‘‘ what had you in mind;. where had you calculated on starting in?” ‘“] don’t know exactly,” responded Dex. ‘I'd rather thought I’d leave that to you.” Old Sherwood Mitchell was listening at- tentively. ‘Something like assistant trainmaster or chief clerk somewhere, I suppose?” “Yes,” admitted his son. ‘ Most any- thing like that. I’ve known right along that I’d have to start in at the bottom some place and work up.” There was considerable of a. silence be- fore the elder Mitchell spoke again. His drumming on the desk had ceased. When he did speak at last it was, in a way, re- luctantly. ‘I’m sorry, Dex,” he said, “ but I’m afraid that, after all, you sort of have the wrong idea.” _~ ‘“The wrong idea!’’ echoed the son. He plainly was puzzled. CO NOOLK (O)