Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

THE PACE MAKER. img. JF guess it would have that effect on ary intelligent mas, wouldn’t it? So IF thought. First, naturally, my thoughts dwelt on Bil Tate, the ne’er-do- well, who had outdistanced me in the race fer success. Next they went to the pleasuse he nrest be getting out of life, and that just a3 naturally led to reflection on the way he probably was skewing that pleasure. Un- less he had changed a lot, I could picture him with his everlasting smirk, his big teeth protruding down over his lower lip and his little, dirty gray eyes ghittermg under his thin brews. “Well, Frank, F s’pose you're gomg out there to make your fortune,” he had said en the depet platform that day. “¥ ground my teeth. “¥ could stand it better if it was any one else,” I said to myself. ‘“ But that eon- ceited, self-satisfied ase is the last one in the world that has any business bemg success- ful. Ff I do say #, I’m a lot better man than he is, four ways from the jack. _¥et— why can’t I win?” I went about mooning in this fashion for — ali of three days. Pretty soon it came to me that if I was ever going to meet that note, ¥ had better be scratching gravel. I had to have more money, to begin with. I had never asked any boss of mine for a raise in my Hfe; but this time F put my pride in mry pocket, took my courage im My teeth and went into the private office to see Mr. Beardshaw, my employer. ‘Mr. Beardshaw, Pve got to have mere money,” F bturted out. ‘“« How much?” he asked. I scratched my head. Up to that mo- ment I hadn’t had any thought of the amount. “Why,” F said, “I’ve got a five-hun- dred dofiar note to meet at the bank.” “* How soon?” he asked. “ Next week.” ‘¢ Then you want to borrow moriey?” “ Good Lord, no! I’m through borrow- ing. What I want is a bigger salary.” ‘“‘ What are you getting now?” “ & hundred and twenty-five 2 month.” ‘“ Welt, I guess I can ratse you to 2 hun- dred and fifty. How will that do?” “ Not very well, I’m afraid,” I told him. 106 “ You see, this note has got to be met in a week, The bank won’t renew any more. They've got a mortgage on my furniture.” The boss tapped on the desk-top with his pencil and looked out of the window. Final- ly he turned toe me. “ Blackton,” be snapped suddenly, “ there’s a man over in the National Trust building that we’ve been trying to sell those Fillmore industrials to far a month. They’re good bends, but they only net four-and-a- half per cent. He won't touch them.”’ “Yes, sir,” 3 said, my mind still on that five-hundred dollar note. “If you can sel him twenty-five thou- sand dollars’ worth of these bonds, your commission, at twe per cent, will be five hundred dollars. Want to try it?” ] came to with a start. “ Sell bonds, Mr. Beardshaw?” I stam- mered. “ Why, I never sold a bond in my life. IF coubdn’t do it.” “* All night,” he returned. “ You say you need five hundred quick. I’m giving you a chance to get it; thet’s all. If you won’t take #, lm atraid you'll have to pay off your note out of the twenty-five dollars — raise Pm gwiag you. You don’t imagine | that you’re worth any more than a hun- dred and fifty, do yeu?” Just then a vision of Bill Tate, with his big-toothed smirk, rose befere my vision. I put Doth hands on the edge of the desk and faced him aggressively. “Mr. Beardshaw,” I said, with my jaw stuck eut, “show me a few things about bonds, and I go you.” “‘ Fine!” he approved, pressing a button at his elhow. Mitson, the star salesman of the office, stuck his head in at the door. “ Take Blackton out and answer his ques-. tions,”” the boss directed. ‘‘ He’s going over to sell Simon Fiekting a block of those Fill- more industrials. That’s all.” Well, Milson rehearsed me for a half- hour. I asked him not less than three hun- dred questions in that time. When I finally started over to the National Trust building my pockets bulged with blank contracts and my mind with newly acquired facts. Ordinarily, I suppose, the thought of that menacing note would have spurred me on to a distasteful task. But it was Bil? Tate comicboolkks @ C@