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"Can't you borrow it!" a§ked Bobby. "Borrow nothing!" said Radbourn. "I'd like to know where!" " I 'II tell you what,'' said Varuer, '' why don "t you get some publisher to back yout" "Oh, yes," laughed Radbourn; "publishers are just yearning to back up unknown authors. You might as well say gel up a stock company and sell shares in myself. " "Well, why not?" asked Bobby. "Great scheme in these days. Put yourself in the hands of a pro moter and in a month he'd have you rolling in wealth and you'd be listed on the exchange. Look nice, wouldn't it, 'Great boom in Radbourn. Advance 13 points on a rumor that the Gotham had bought his latest story.' " "Oh, rot!'' said Radbourn; "you make me so tired, Bobby, that 1 can't write any more to-night. Where did you say you were going to play to-nightl" "In my room," said Varner; "come down. Miss Gorman is coming down, and I 'ye half a dozen bottles of sarsaparilla or something put on the window sill." When Kadbourn returned to his room it was after twelve, but he sat on his bed to smoke a last pipe, and with the ready brain of an author of humorous stories he evolved the idea Bobby Mabew had sug gested. A writer, a stock company to back him, the booming of the stock, perhaps a panic. He would write it the next morning, lie even took a sheet of paper and cast about for a title; there is so much in a good title. "The Corner in .1. A. 1i.," he wrote, and then tore the paper in two. After all, he would not write it. The idea was not bad. but it did not seem sufficiently humorous, and be could not see how he could work a love passage into it, and a love pas sage was one of Radbourn 'a strong points, so he threw his shoes into a corner and went to bed. The next day he computed his weekly expenses, and brought the figures down to the lowest amount at which he could live, and he decided he must beg, bor row or steal two hundred dollars and cut Brown & Jones, and again Hobby Mallow's suggestion came to him. Why not? If the fellows would give him only $40 apiece, the five of them, it would put him on his feet. And it need not all be paid at once. If he had $10 a week he could squeeze along. Any of them could afford that. When he put the plan before them that night they jumped at it. At first, quite naturally, they thought Radbourn was joking, but when lie insisted he was in earnest the thing went with a rush, and Bobby Mahew drew up the papers at once. They called it the Thomas Rawson Radbourn Com pany, and made Bobby president, and Varner, Hoggs ami "Wooly" Simpson directors. Young Williams was unanimously elected secretary and treasurer be cause, as Bobby Mahew said, he was too young to steal. .In the articles of incorporation Rabourn was "the factory," and he was bound to write all he could and the best stuff he could. Subscriptions to the stock were payable weekly, $2 a week each for twenty weeks, and in return they were to receive one-half of all Radbourn's earnings for two years. "And a jolly good thing we'll make out of it, too," said Bobby Mahew, "unless the factory burns or gets lazy, and if lie does, we are gone up." "Oh, you needn't be a bit afraid of losing," said Radbourn. "You'll all bo millionaires before two years are up. I'm not doing this for you fellows. I'm doing it for myself, and I'm gohig to crowd things." Radbourn did .'is lie promised, lie wrote every day except Sunday, and he wrote some first-rate stories, ami they met with a ready acceptance. In two week he bad sold the Gotham short tale, and had pail $-'< to the syndicate, ant bad in addition sold thre stories to "pay cm ] >11I>l cation"' periodicals, for I>any would eventually re ceive $34. The stockholders were jubilant, and instituted a weekly "feed" in liiiiinr of the factory, a sort of Punch dinner. ■ ■ You sec,'' sniil Bobby Mabew, '' we have a good thing in nur literature fac tory, and it 'a our duty to do the right tiling by him." So once a week they met and ate indigestible Welsh rabbit in Varner's room, and Radbourn read manu scripts, end every one criticised them according LOS ANGELES HERALD SUNDAY MAGAZINE to their lights, and suggested themes. The other nights of the week the company met in Radbourn's room and tilled the air with smoke. The company was a grand success, for Radbourn 's writings had struck the popular fancy, and he had no trouble in selling a large proportion of his manu scripts. Each week he was able to pay a dividend much larger than the weekly assessment, and in two months he had paid in dividends more than the $'_'D 0 originally pledged. May Gorman was greatly interested in the progress of Kadbourn and his company. She thought it was wrong for the stockholders to hold Radbourn to his bargain after they had made a reasonable profit, but Radbourn explained that had they not backed him he would still be wasting his time in thd grind of Brown & Jones's office, and that they had taken a chance of losing all they put in, and the affair was perfectly satisfactory all around. Hut when the Gotham gave him a commission to write a novel to appear in the magazine as a serial, and to be published later in book form, Radbourn winced. He was, however, too much of a man to complain. The book, he felt sure, would be a success, and would not only bring a considerable amount of imme diate money, but would so increase his fame that ho would be able to command a still better market for all he should write. What especially bored him was the thought that with his present income he could afford to take the large room on the rear of the third floor and pay board for two. Hut while he was bound to pay half his income to the stockholders this was out of tho question. May Gorman had become more than a friend and adviser to him. Slowly, as such things progress in a boarding house, his liking for her had taken on a stronger coloring, until it really annoyed him that the T. R. R. Company occupied so many of his evenings. With a brave heart Radbourn pat aside all thoughts, of marriage, and, dropping for the time his smaller work, gave himself wholly to the task of writing his novel, The first few chapters were put on pa|K'r smooth ly enough, and then his muse deserted him without rhyme or reason, lie found himself sitting hour after hour before his table, thinking not of his heroine, but of May Gorman, and he gradually fell into a state of dejection. It was disgusting to think that he, tho writer, able to support a wife, should be bound to give away half his income for an entire two years, during which period he would not dare to marry. lie did his best to write the novel, but he was un able to put his heart in it, and what he wrote one day he destroyed the next. For a while the stockholders were patient, and then they began to investigate him. They held noisy meet ings in his room and smoked his tobacco and cheer d him up. I luring the meetings Kadbourn regained his Hpirits, and when they left he was usually in the best of good humor, and assured them, honestly enough, that in the morning he would get on with the novel. Hut as one week followed another stocks in T. R. R. fell point by point, and at length Radbourn sadly ad mitted that his pen had lost its cunning. The company took the confession well enough, for they had made a good profit on their investment, and believed Radbourn would soon regain his inspiration. It was Bobby Mahew who suj;f;osted making an as sessment to send the factory on a vacation to Queecby Lake for a cou)>le of works, and while the directors agreed that it would he a good investment, the ma jority of the company were preparing for their own vacations, and were not well prepared to stand an as- Em^E^'; W^J^^SIfSSSSBBHSdS -- • ■ ~ HUB 'mtHwfffim l- . ' " - -- -■ ' ~ ; A STUDY IN LIGHT AND SHADE A Scene on the Lake or the Foue Cantons, Switzerland. OCTOBER 16, 1910. Mssment, and stock in T. R. R. fell still lower, and it touched its lowest point when Kadbourn announced that he was about out of money, and that he would probably soon have to seek another position. There was a new boarder in Mrs. (iregg's, a young man from Boston, and every one undent Ihe was in the house temporarily. He was "queer," the members of the company decided. He wore spectacles, and kept very much to himself, and the little conver sation he indulged in was composed of shrewd ques tions, lie never seemed to exactly understand the 'I. H. li. Company. It was too deep or too frivolous for him, and his question! regarding it were endless. His name was Kmerson Dithridge. When Bobby Mahew knocked the ash from hia pipe one night ami announced that he bad sold liis stock to Dithridge, Badbourn got up and objected. "Now, look here," said Badbourn, "you haven't really done that, have yon.' 1 call that beastly of you. 1 don't want Ditbridge to have any stock in me." "Well, he's got it," said Bobby, "and that 's all I have to say. You shouldn't kick, Bad. You know you are horrid poor property, and if he wasn't such a flat I wouldn't be mean enough to stick him with you. Anyway. I got more for you than 1 thought I would." Badbourn groaned. "Say," cried Varner, "1 wonder what Dithridge is up tii. He took over my stock to day, but he didn't Bay he had bought you out, Hobby." Badbourn laid his pipe on the table, and his face became very white. Hoggs was sprawled on the bed, and he simply re marked, "I've sold out too, Bad." "So have I," laid "Wooly" Simpson, briefly. Young Williams laid his hand on Uadbourn 's arm. "I'm sorry, Kad," he said, "but 1 was awfully hard up." Badbourn turned to the window and stared out into the night. When he faced about liis lip was quivering. "I don't blame you, fellows," he said hoarsely. " I know I 'm no good, but it 's pretty hard to be sold out this way to a fellow like Dithridge. -lust think, boys, he owns me body and soul now. Think of him nagging me with his infernal question!. Think of him " He broke down and uid his face in his hands, and the stockholders gazed at him gravely. Bobby Mahew broke the silence. " Come, old man, " he said* cheerfully, "it isn't so bad as all that, you know. Of course Dithridge isn't just our kind, but | M . ' s - lie 's literary—and all that sort of thing." Badbourn raised his face. "Literary?" he Bald, fiercely. "Ho's a literary dude. He's a moonfaced literary cad, that's what be is. He's an [bienite and an innercircleiit. Ho couldn 't see a joke in a year. Think of such a prig owning me! '' He arose and fiercely kicked his hat under the bed. "Think of him coining up hero and Bitting on the edge of that chair and gazing at mo with his calfy eves and asking questions about the inner meaning of my poor little jingles." The stockholders silently filed from the room, and left their factory to his cruel thoughts. The next morning Radbourn, on his way to the bath, met Dithridgo returning from his morning dip. Radbourn ignored him, and was hurrying by, but Dithridge put out his band and stopped him. "I beg pawdon, Mr. Badbourn," he said, "but weally now, what is all this affair about a stock com pany and all that? I cawn't grasp it, you know." Radbourn turned on him angrily. "Come!" be cried; "it's bad enough to buy me up like a lot of old clothes, without trying to make sport of me. What are you up to, anyhow?" Dithridge shrank back into his his doorway and raised his arm to ward oh* an expected blow. "I say, now," he said. '' don't bo angry. I haven't bought you, you know. On honah, I haven't!" ."Those fellows!" thought Radbourn Instant ly. "One of their infernal jokes," tut Dithridge con tinued blandly: "You see," he said, "Miss Gorman awsked me to buy the stock, as you term it, and I weally only acted as her agent. I transferred it to her yes tawday.'' An hour earlier Bad bourn would have scorned to take Dithridge's hand. Now he bbook it long and warmly.