Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

THE ORCHID HUNTRESS, “ Now here ’—the broker ran a pudgy finger over the paper—“ are the holdings of the Mercer Oil Company.” “Quoted to-day at two seventeen,” terrupted Jerry. ‘Right there is their biggest gusher,”’ continued Sims. “ Now ’”—the finger pro- gressed slightly across the paper—‘ this is our land. Adjoining the Mercer and the identical strata they have. In short, we tap the Mercer streams. We’re sinking the first well here. Work has already begun. So, you see, that means speedy dividends.” ‘And big ones,” put in Jerry. Masters ran his own finger reflectively in- from the spot that marked the well already. producing-to the spot that marked the one about to produce. The excitement still filled him. It was as though he stood on the Texas plains and watched the steady flow of oil that was to net him thousands. ‘“T’d like to think it over,” he said. “A few hours would be enough. bs “Sorry I can’t give you several days,” said Sims; “but of course we’re anxious to get the matter settled up. One of the men that’s got a slice is mighty anxious to add this on, but I don’t like it. Too big a share may mean a controlling interest later on. ) “Yes,” said Masters, rather vague as to just what a. controlling interest might mean. “ Suppose I come back at three and tell you what I decide.” “All right! If you should decide to drop it before that, just phone me, won’t you?” said Sims. On the curb the young man hesitated while his car was coming up for him. Where, he wondered, would be best to go for information about Mercer Oil? The matter was complicated by the fact that he could not tell of the development com- pany. Well, he’d have luncheon, and then —too far to go up-town. There had been a place where— He spoke to the chauf- feur as he climbed into the tonneau of the car. “ Williams,” he said, father go to lunch?” ‘““White’s, sir!” The long grill was filled with men, from very young brokers in yellow spats, to fat “where did my 307 old financiers. Masters was about to al- low himself to be put at a small table near the wall when his attention was caught by the round face, further widened by white side whiskers, of his father’s old social friend and business enemy, Laurence Vail. ‘“ Ranfield Masters by all that’s great!” exclaimed the old gentleman after a mo- ment’s shrewd look at the young man who advanced with hand outstretched. ‘“ Sit down, boy! And have some lunch.” ‘““Glad to,’ said Masters. ‘I have a hunger.”’ ‘Well! Well!” continued the financier when the order had been given. ‘‘ Haven’t seen you since your father’s death. You were in the army, weren’t you? Get over?” ‘Over, but not in the middle of things.” “Too bad! And yet good enough. I’m glad to see you here, safe and sound. What ‘re you doing now?” “Well, I’ve been drifting, but I’m rather trying to gather up the threads of my in- come now and make my money work for me. <A fellow hates to be a waster, you know.” “Right, my boy! Your father was a doer, and I think he used to be afraid you were pretty much of a dreamer. But I'll wager he was mistaken.” : “J «hope so, though I’ve sometimes shared his opinion. How are things going with you, Mr, Vail?” “Rotten!” The old man’s _ smile changed to a frown. His face grew yet redder as though at the thought of an an- cient grievance. ‘‘ Everything is rotten since the war! If I had one good man! Just one, you understand!”’ He proceeded for the next half-hour to tell the young man, between mouthfuls of broiled lobster, just what he thought of la- bor, beginning with factory hands and end- ing with the force in his own office. The old-fashioned apple-pie that Vail had par- ticularly recommended, had been brought on before Masters found an opportunity to ask the question that was uppermost in his mind. .“ What do ya think of Mercer Oil, Mr. Vail?” “ Mercer Oil! Mercer Oil!” The old Gomichbooks (9) (E) 1