Willmar tribune. [volume], December 28, 1910, Image 3

About Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931

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7/7 one of Hudyard Kipling's
writings he tells of "the ship
t'.icit found herself," and in "The
Fortune Hunter" ive have the
fasci?ia!ing narrative of a
youth who found himself." The
youth is like the ship he had to
have his course laid straight be
fore to make
substantial 1: cad way. The story
of Nat Dune an is one that in
dramatic form, as written by
V/inehell Smith, has attracted
the attention of thousands of
playgoers throughout the coun
try. As novel, written by Louis
Joseph Vance, it becomes a nar
rative of profound appeal to the
young and old arid especially to
those of us r,'/:o in our youth
dwelt in a rural district far
enough removed from the metro
politan centers to be practically
a world in itself and to itself.
Usually it is the country lad who
ventures i?7io the great cities to
seek fortune and fame's favor.
But here we find a down to date
city youth, who, a failure at ev
erything he had undertaken, in
vades the rural districts to make
a millionaire of himself. That
which befalls him prompted a
great Neiv York newspaper editor
to say, "Every American should
read this great story," for ""The
Fortune Hunter," in spite of its
enjoyable humor, sublilcly point
ed by its talented authors, teaches
the vital lesson of the need of
charity and tolerance for the
less fortunate of human beings.
CLIAI'TEIt I.
ECI'IYI.-:!! at ear. Spauldmg,
of Mc-,rs. At water Spauld
ing. importers of motoring
garment and accessories, lis-
tened to the switchboard operator's
announcement with grave attention,
acknowledging it with a toneless "All
right: send him in." Then, nookiug
up the desk telephone, he swung round
in his chair to fa-e the door of hia
private oi'.ice and in a brief ensuing
interval p:tlns kiu-_-,iy ironed out of his
face and atiitud every ii.di-ation of
the frame of mind \. hidi in- await
ed his caller. It v. as, as a matter of
fact, a i\ thing but a pleasant one. He
had a disia- iei':il duty to perform, but
that was the last thing he designed to
become o\ id"nl. Like most good busi
ness men, he nursed a pel superstition
or two. and the number of these
the first was Liai he must in all hia
dealings piv.-e.it an inscrutable front,
like a p-i!.er a.\ er's. ('aprair.s of in
dustry wore uniformly like that,
Spaulding under.-iood. If they enter
tained erno.iuiis it was strictly in
private.
Occasionally this attitude deceived
others. Notably now it bewildered
Duncan as he entered on the echo of
Spaulding's "feme:" lie had appre
hended the visa-.a- of a thunderstorm
"with a rattle of brus-ue complaints.
lie encotiMtcr'd Spauiding as he had
always seem d—a little, urbane figure
with a blank face, the blanker for
glasses whose lenses seemed always
to catch tie* light and, glaring, mask
the eyes behind th"t.i: a prosperous
man of ab'aiis, well groomed both as
to body and :s to i: i:.d: a machine
for the transaction if business with
all a machine's vhr.cby and tempera
mental r'Sion::ive:ie s. [t was just
that quality in hi:n that Duncan en
vied, who w"-, vavm-ly impressed that
if he 111!!!-•!f coii' in a
minutely, the ph!e :u of a machine he
might learn to ape something of its
efficiency at so ultimately prove "him
self of some worth to riie world and
Incidentally to Nathaniel Duncan.
"Good afternoon. Mr Spaulding." he
said, replying to a nod 'as he dropped
into the chair that mil had indicated.
A faint smile lightened his expression
and made it quite engaging.
"G'd afternoon." Spaulding survey
ed him swiftly, then laced his fat little
•fingers and contemplated them with
-detached intentness. "Just get in.
Duncan?"
"On the 3:30 from Chicago. I got
•your wire." he resumed "1 moan it
•got me—overtook me at Minneapolis."
"You haven't wasted time."
"1 fancied the matter might be
Novelized by
Louis
JOSEPH VANCE
From the Play of the
Same Name by
WINCHELL SMITH
r$» $
Copyright, 1910. by Winchell Smith and
Louis Joseph Vance
urgent, sir. 1 gathered from the fact
that you wired me to come, home that
you wanied my advice."
A second time Spanieling gestured
with his eyebrows, tor ouee fairly sur
prised out of Ins pose. "Your advice?'"
••Yes," said Dunca evenly, "a to
whether you ought to give up your
customers on my route or send them a
man who eouid sell goods."
••WellV" Spauldmg admitted.
"Oh. don"t think I'm boasting of my
acutenoss. Anybody could have guess
ed as much from the great number of
heavy orders I have uot been sending
you."
"You've had bad luck."
"You mean you have. Mr. Spaulding.
It was good luck for me to be draw-
BETTY GRAHAM.
ing down my weekly checks, bad luck
to you not 10 have a man who could
earn them."
His desperate honesty touched
Spaulding a trifle. At the risk of not
seeming a business man to himself he
inclined dubiously to relent, ro give
Duncan another chance.
••Duncan." he said, "what's the trou
ble?"
"I thought you knew that: I thought
that was why you called me in with
my rodte half covered."
"You mean"—
"I mean can't sell your liue."
"Why?"
"God only knows. I want to badly
enough. It's just general incompe
tence, I presume."
"What makes you think that?"
Duncan smiled bitterly. "Experi
ence." he said.
"You've tried what else?"
"A little of everything, all the jobs
open to a man with a knowledge of
Latin and Greek and the higher mathe
matics—shipping clerk, timekeeper,
cashier, all of 'em."
"And yet Kellogg believes in you."
Duncan nodded dolefully. "Harry's a
good friend. We roomed together at
college. That's why he stands for
me."
"He says you only need the right
opening"—
And nobody knows where that is.
except my fortunate employers. It's
the back door going out for mine every
time. Oh. Harry's been a prince to
me. He's found me four or five jobs
with friends of his. like yourself. But
I don't seem to last. You see. 1 was
brought up to be ornamental and ir
regular rather than useful, to blow
about in motorcars and keep a valet
busy sixteen hours a day. and all that
sort of thing. My father's failure—
you know about that?"
Spaulding uodded. Duncan went on
gloomily, talking a great deal, more
freely than he would have talked at
any other time—suffering, in fact, from
that species of auto-hypnosis induced
by the sound of his own voice recount
ing his misfortunes which seems espe
dally to affect a man down on his
luck.
"That smash came when I was five
years out of college—I'd never thought
of turning my hand to anything In all
that time. I'd always had more coin
than I could spend—never had to con
sider the worth of money or how hard
it is to earn. My father saw to all
that. lie seemed not to want me to
work not that I hold that against him.
He'd an idea I'd turn out a genius of
some sort or other, 1 believe. Well,
he failed and died all in a week,
and I found myself left with an ex
tensive wardrobe, expensive tastes, an
Impractical education—and uot so
much of that that you'd notice it—and
not a cent. I was too proud to look to
my friends for help in those days—and
perhaps that was as well: 1 sought
jobs ou my own. Did you ever keep
books in a fish market?"
"No." Spaulding's eyes twinkled be
hind Ins large, shiny glasses.
"Hut what's the use of my boring
you?" Duncan made as if to rise, sud
denly remembering, himself.
"You're not. Go on."
"1 didn't mean to. Mostly. I pre
sume. I've been blundering round an
explanation of Kellogg's kindness to
me. in my usual ineffectual way. but
I felt an explanation was due you. as
the latest to suffer through his mis
placed interest in me."
"Perhaps," said Spaulding. "1 am be
ginning to understand. Go on. I'm
interested. About the tish market?"
"Oh. I just happened to think of it as
a sample experience, and the last of
that particular brand. 1 got $9 a week
and earned every cent of it inhaling
the atmosphere. My board cost me
$( and the other $3 afforded me a
chance to demonstrate myself a cap
tain of finance, paying laundry bills
and clothing myself, besides buying
lunches ami such like small matters.
1 did the whole thing, you know, one
schooner of beer a day and made my
own cigarettes. Never could make up
my mind which was the worst. The
hours were easy, too: didn't have to
get to work until in the morning.
I lasted live weeks nt that job before
I was taken sick. Shows what a great
constitution I've got."
"And then"
"Oh" Duncan roused. "Why.
then 1 fell in with Kellogg again: he
fount! me trying the open air cure on
a bench in Washington square. Since
then he's been finding me one berth
after another. He's a sure enough op
timist."
Spaulding shifted uneasily in his
chair, stirred by an impulse whose
unwisdom he could not doubt. Dun
can had assuredly done his case no
good by painting his shortcomings in
colors so vivid: yet somehow, strange
ly. Spaulding liked him the better for
his open hearted confession.
"Well"— Spaulding stumbled awk
wardly.
"Yes: of course." said Duncan
promptly, rising. "Sorry if I tired
you."
"What do you mean by 'Yes. of
course?'
"That you called me in to fire me—
and so that's over with. Only I'd be
sorry to have you sore on Kellogg for
saddling nn on you. You see, he be
lieved I'd make good, and so 1 did
in a way at least I hoped to."
"Oh. that's all right." said Spaulding
uncomfortably. "The trouble is. you
see, we've nothing else open just now,
but if you'd really like another chance
on the road I—I'll be glad to speak
to Mr. Atwater about it."
"Don't you do it!" Duncan counsel
ed him sharply, aghast. "He might
say yes. And I simply couldn't ac
cept: it wouldn't be fair to you. Kel
logg or myself It'd be charity, for
I've proved I can't earn my wages, and
I haven't come to that yet. No!" he
concluded with determination and
picked up his hat.
"Just a minute." Spaulding held him
with a gesture. "You're forgetting
something—at least I am. There's a
month's pay coming to you. The cash
ier will hand you the check as you go
out."
"A month's pay?" Duncan said
blankly. "How's that? I've drawn up
to the end of this week already, if
you didn't know it."
"Of course I knew it. But we never
let our men go without a month's no
tice or its equivalent, and"—
"No." Duncan interrupted firmly—
"no: but thank you just the same. I
couldn't—I really couldn't. It's good
of you. but— Now." he broke off
abruptly. "I've left my accounts, what
there is of them, wiih the bookkeep
ing department, and the checks for
my sample trunks. There'll be a few
dollars coming to me ou my expense
account, and I'll send you my address
as soon as 1 get one."
"But. look here"— Spaulding got to
his feet, frowning.
"No." reiterated Duncan positively,
"there's no use. I'm grateful to you
for your toleration of me and all that,
but we can't do anything better now
than call it all off. Good by. Mr.
Spaulding."
Spaulding nodded, accepting defeat
with the better grace because of an
innate conviction that it was just as
well after all And. furthermore, he
admired Duncan's stand, so he offered
his hand—an unusual condescension.
"You'll make good somewhere yet."
he asserted,
"1 wish I could believe it." Duncan's
grasp was firm since he felt more as
sured of some humanity latent in hi.s
late employer. "However, goodby."
"Good luck to you." rang in his ears
as the door put a period to the inter
view lie stopped and took up the
battered suit case and rusty overcoat
which he had left outside the junior
partner's ofiice. then went on. shaking
his head. "Much obliged." he said
huskily to himself, "but what's the
good of that. There's no room any
where for a professional failure and
that's what I am—just a ne'er-do-well
I never realized what that meaxit
really before, and it's certainly talcen
me a damn' long time to find out.
But I know now. all right."
Despondently he went down to the
sidewalk and merged himself with the
crowd, moving with it, though a thou
sand miles apart from it, and, presently
diverging, struck across town toward
the Worth street subway station.
"And the worst of it is he's too
sharp not to find it out—if he hasn't
by this time—and too decent by far
to let me know if he has. It can't go
on this way with us. I can't let him.
Got to break with him somehow—now
—today. I won't let him think me
what I've been all along to him. Bless
his foolish heart!"
There was no deprecation of Kel
logg's goodness in his mood, simply de
termination uo longer to be a charge
upon it. To contemplate the sum to
tal of the benefits he had received at
Kellogg's hands since the day when
the latter had found him ill and half
starved, friendless as a stray pup, on
the bench in Washington square stag
gered his imagination.
He could never repay it, he told
himself, save inadequately, little by
little—mostly by gratitude aud such
consideration as he purposed now tc
exhibit by removing himself and his
distresses from the other's ken. Here
was an end to comfort for him. an end
to living in Kellogg's rooms, eatins
his food, busying his servants, spend
ing his mouey, not so much borrowed
as pressed upon him.
Ther crawled in his mind a clammy
memory of the sort of housing he had
known in past days, and he shuddered
inwardly, smelling again the effluvia ql
dan oilcloth and musty carpets, of
fish balls and fried ham. of old style
plumbing and t' $b a week hunianits
in the unwasheu raw, the odej- of mis
ery that permeated the lodgings to
which his lack of means had intro
duced him. He could see again, and
with a painful vividness of. mental vi
Sinn, the degenerate "brownstone
fronts" that mask those haunts of
wretchedness, with their flights of
crumbling brownstone steps leading
up to oaken portals haggard with flak
ing paint, flanked by squares of soiled
note paper upon which inexpert hands
had traced the warning, not "Abandon
hope all ye who enter here." but "Fur
nished rooms to let with board."
And to this he must ret am. to that
treadmill round of blighted days and
joyless nights must set his face.
Alighting at the Grand Central sta
tion, he packed the" double weight of
his luggage and his cares a few blocks
northward on Madison avenue ere
turning west toward the bachelor
rooms which Kellogg had established
in the roaring Forties, just the other
side of the avenue—Fifth avenue.
The elevator boy, knowing him of
old. neglected to announce his arrival,
and Duncan had his own key to the
door of Kellogg's apartment. lie let
himself in with futile stealth. As was
quite right and proper. Kellogg's man
Bobbins was in attendance, a stupe
fied Iiobbins. thunderstruck by the un
expected return of his master's friend
and guest. "Good Lord!" he cried at
sight of Duncan. "Beg your pardon,
sir, but—but it can't be you!"
"Your mistake. Robbins. Unfortu
nately it is." Duncan surrendered his
luggage. "Mr. Kellogg in?"
"No. sir. But I'm expecting him any
minute. He'll be surprised to see yen
back."
"Think so?" said Duncan dully. "lie
doesn't know me if he is."
"You see. sir. we thought you was
out west."
"So you did." Duncan moved to
ward the door of his own bedroom.
Robbins following.
"It was only yesterday I posted a
letter to you for Mr. Kellogg, sir. and
the address was Omaha."
"1 didn't get that far. Fetch along
that suit case, will you please? I want
to put some clean things in it."
"Then you're not staying in town
overnight. Mr. Duncan?"
"1 don't know. I'm not staying here
anyway" Duncan switched on the
lights in his room. "Put it on the bed.
Iiobbins. I'll pack as quickly as I can.
I'm in a hurry."
"Yes. sir but I hope there's nothing
wrong."
"Then you lose."' returned Duncan
grimlv "Everything's wrong" He
"BEO PA1JDOX, BJK, l,„T IT CAN'T \tS, YOU!"
jerked viciously at au obstinate bureau
drawer and, when it yielded unexpect
edly with the well known impishness
of the inanimate, dumped upon the
floor a tangled miscellany of shirts,
socks, gloves, collars and ties.
"Didn't you like the business, sir?"
"No. I didn't like the business, and
it didn't like me. It's the same old
story, Robbins. I've lost my job again,
that's all."
"I'm very sorry, sir."
"Thank you. but that's all right.
I'm used to it."
"And you're going to leave, «ir?"
"I am. Robbins 1
"1—may I take the liberty of hoping
it'a to take another position
"You may, but you lose a second
time. I've just made up my mind I'm
not going to hang around here any
longer, that's all."
"But," Uobbins ventured, hovering
about with exasperating solicitude—
"but Mr. Kellogg 'd never permit you
to leave in this way, sir."
"Wrong again, Robbins." said Dun
can shortly, annoyed.
"1'es, sir. Very good, sir." With the
instinct of the well trained servant
Robbins started to leave, but hesitated.
He was really very much disturbed by
Duncan's manner, which showed a
phase of his character new in Robbins'
experience of hi in. Ordinarily reverses
"I'VE LOST MY JOB AGAIN."
such as this had seemed merely to
serve to put Duncan on his mettle, to
infuse him with a determination to try
again and win out, whatever the odds.
and at such times he was accustomed
to exhibit a mad irresponsibility of
wit and a gaiety of spirit (whether it
were a mask or noi that only out
rivaled his high good humor when
things ostensibly were going well with
him.
Intermittently, between his spasms
of employment he had been Kellogg's
guest for several years, not infrequent
ly for months at. a time, and so Rob
bins had come to feel a sort of proprie
tary interest in the young man. second
only to the regard which he had for
his employer.
"Beg pardon, sir," he advanced, hesi
tant, "but perhaps you're just feeling
a bit blue. Won't you let me bring
you a drop of something?"
"Of course I will." said Duncan em
phatically over his shoulder. "And
get it now. will you. while I'm pack
ing? And. Robbins!"
"Sir."
"Only put a little in it."
"A little what, sir?"
"Seltzer, of course."
CHAPTER II.
had been a forlorn hope at best,
this attempt of his to escape Kel
logg—Duncan acknowledged it
when, his packing rudely finish
ed, he started for the door. Robbins re
luctantly surrendering the suit case
after exhausting his repertory of de
vices to delay the young man. But at
that instant the elevator gate clashed
in the outer corridor and Kellogg's
key rattled in-the lock, to an accom
panying confusion of voices, all mas
culine and all very cheerful,
Duncan sighed and motioned Rob
bins away with his luggage. "No hope
now," he told himself. "But—O Lord!"
Incontinently there burst into the
room four men—Jim Long, Larry Mil
ler, another whom Duncan did not im
mediately recognize and Kellogg him
self—bringing with them an atmos
phere breezy with jubilation. Before he
know it Duncan was boisterously over
whelmed. He got his breath to find
Kellogg pumping his hand.
"Nat." he was saying, "you're the
only other man on earth"I was wish
ing could be with me tonight! Now
my happiness is complete. Gad. this
is lucky!"
"You think so?" countered Duncan.
forcing a smile. "Hello, you boys!"
He gave a hand to Long and Miller.
"How're you all?" He warmed to
their friendly faces and unfeigned wel
come. "My, but it's good to see you!"
There was relief in the fact that Kel
logg, after a single glance, forebore
to question his return he was to be
counted upon for tact, was Kellogg.
Now he strangled surprise by turning
to the fourth member of the party.
"Nat." he said, "I want you to meet
Mr. Bartlett. Mr. Bartlett. Mr. Dun
can."
A wholesome smile dawned on Dun
can's face as he encountered the blank
blue stare of a young man whose very
smooth and very bright red face was
admirably set off by semi-evening
dress. "Great Scott!" he cried, warm
ly pressing the lackadaisical hand that
drifted into his. "Willy Bartlett—
after all these years!"
A sudden animation replaced the
vacuous stare of the blue eyes. "Dun
can!" he stammered. "I say. this is
rippin'!"
"As bad as that?" Duncan essayed
an accent almost English and nodded
his appreciation of it. something
which Bartlett missed completely
He was very young—a very great
deal younger, Duncan thought, than
when they had been classmates, what
time Duncan shared his rooms with
Kellogg, very much younger and suf
fering exquisitely from oversophisti
cation. His drawl barely escaped be
ing inimitable. His air did not escape
it. "Smitten with my old trouble."
Duncan appraised him—"too much
money. Heaven knows I hope he nev
er recovers!"
As for Willy, he was momentarily
more nearly human than he had seem
ed from the moment of his first ap
pearance. "You know," he blurted,
"this is simply extraordinary. I say.
you chaps, Duncan and I haven't met
for years, not since he graduated. We
belong to the same frat. you know.
aud had a jolly time of it, if he was
an upper class man. No side about
him at all, y' know, absolutely none
KELLOGG FORBORE TO QUESTION HIS RB
TUKN.
whatever. Whenever I had to go out
on a spree I'd always get "Nat to show
me round."
"1 was pretty good at that," Duncan
admitted, a trifle ruefully.
But Willy rattled on heedless. "He
knew more pretty gels, y' know. I say,
old chap, d'you know as many now?"
Duncan shook his head. "The list
has shrunk. I'm a changed man. Wil
ly
"Ow, I say, you're chaw fin." Willy
argued incredulously. "1 dou?t believe
that, y' know, hardly. I say. you re
member the night you showed me how
to play faro bank?"
"I'll never forget it," Duncan told
him gravely. "And I remember what
a plug we thought my roommate was
because he wouldn't come with us."
He uodded significantly toward the
amused Kellogg.
"Not him!" cried Willy, expostulate.
"Not really? Why, if cawn't be!"
"Fact." Duncan assured him. "He
was working his way through college,
you see, whereas I was working my
way through my allowance and then
some. That's why you never met
him. Willy, he worked and got the
habit. We loafed with the same re
sult That's why he's useful and
you're ornamental and I'm"— He
broke off in surprise. "Hello." he said
as Robbins offered a tray to the three
on which were slim stemmed glasses
filled with a pale yellow effervescent
liquid. "Why the blond waters of ex
citement, please?" he inquired, accept
ing a glass.
From across the room Larry Miller's
voice sounded. "Are you ready, gen
tlemen? We'll drink to him first, and
then he can drink to his royal little
self. To the boy who's getting on in
the world! To the junior member of
L. J. Bartlett & Co.!"
Long applauded loudly. "Hear, hear!"
and even Willy Bartlett chimed in
with an unemotional. "Good work!"
Mechanically Duncan downed the
toast. Kellogg was the only man not
drinking it. and from that the meaning
was easily to be inferred. With a
stride Duncan caught his hand and
crushed it in his own.
"Harry." he said a little huskily, "I
can't tell you how glad I am. It's the
best news I've had in years."
Kellogg's responsive pressure was
answer enough. "It makes it doubly
worth while to win out and have you
all so glad." he said.
"So you've taken him into the firm,
th?" Duncan inquired of Bartlett.
The blue eyes widened stonily. "The
governor has I'm not in the business.
y' know. Never had the slightest turn
for it. what?" Willy set aside his
glass. "I say. I must be moving. No.
I cawn't stop. Kellogg, really. I was
dressin' at the club and Larry fold rae
about It. «so I luct dropped round to
tell you how jolly glad I am."
"Your father badn't told you, then?"
"Who, the governor?" Willy looked
unutterably bored. "Why. be gave up
tryin' to talk business with me long
ago. I can't get interested in it, 'pon
my word. Of course 1 knew he
thought the deuce and all of you, but
1 hadn't an idea they were goln' to
take you into the firm. What?"
Long and Miller interrupted, propos
ing adieus which Kellogg vainly con
tended.
"Why. you're only just here"— he
expostulated.
"Cawn'r help it, old chap." Willy as
sured him earnestly. "I must go, any
way I've a dinner engagement."
"You'll be late, won't you?"
"Doesn't matter in the least. I'm al
ways late. Night. Kellogg. Congratu
lations again."
"We just dropped round to take off
our hats to you," Long continued,
pumping Kellogg's band.
"Aud tell you what a good fellow we
think you are." added Miller, following
suit.
"You dou't know how good you make
mo feel." Kellogg told them.
Under cover of this diversion Dun
can was making one last effort to slip
away, but before be. could gather to
gether his impedimenta and get to the
door Willy Bartlett intercepted him.
"I say. Duncan"—:
"Oh. rats!" said Duncan beneath
hi.s breath He paused ungraciously
enough.
"We've got to see a bit of one an
other, now we've met again, y* know.
Wish you'd look me up Half Moon
cluli 'II get me most any time. We'll
have to arrange to make a regular old
fashioned night of it, just for mem
ory's sake."
Duncan nodded, edging past him.
"I've memories enough," he said.
"Right-oh! Any reason at all, y'
know, just so we have the night."
"Good enough." assented Duncan
vaguely. He suffered his hand to be
wrung with warmth. "I'll not for
get. Good night." Then he pulled up
and groaned, for Willy's insistence
had frustrated his design. Kellogg
had suddenly become alive to his at
titude and hailed him over the beads
of Long and Miller.
"Nat. I say! Where the devil are
you going?"
"Over to the hotel," said Duncan.
"The deuce you are! What hotel?"
"The one I'm stopping at."
"Not ou your life. You're not going
just yet. I haven't had half a chance
to talk to you. Robbins, take Mr
Duncan's things."
Duncan, set upon by Robbins. who
had been hovering round for just that
purpose, lifted his shoulders in resig
nation, turning back into the room as
Miller and Long said good night to
him and left at Bartlett's heels, and
smiled awry in sorni-huiriorous depre
cation of the way in which he let Kel
logg outmaneuver him. When it came
to that it was hard to refuse Kellogg
anything he had that way with him.
especially if one liked him. And how
could any one help liking him?
Kellogg had him now. holding him
fast 'by either shoulder, at arm's
length, and shaking a reproving head
at his friend. "You big duffer!" he
said. "Did you think for a minute I'd
let you throw me down like that?
Have you dined?"
At this suggestion Duncan stiffened
and fell back. "No. but"
Kellogg swept the ground from un
der his feet. "Robbins." he told the
man, "order in dinner for two from the
club, and tell 'em to hurry it up."
"Yes. sir." said Robbins. and flew to
obey before Duncan could get a chance
to countermand his part in the order.
"And now." continued Kellogg,
"we've got the whole evening before
us in which to chin. Sit down." He
led Duncan to an armchair and gently
but firmly plumped him into its capa
cious depths. "We'll have a snug lit
tle dinner here and what do you say
to taking in a show afterward?"
"I say no."
"You dassent. my boy. This is the
night we celebrate. I'm feeling pretty
good tonight."
"You ought to, Harry." Duncan
struggled to rouse himself to share In
the spirit of gratulation with which
Kellogg was bubbling. "I'm mighty
glad, old man. It's a great, step up
for you."
"It's all of that. You could have
knocked me over with a feather when
Bartlett sprang it on me this morning
Of course. 1 was expecting something,
a boost in salary, or something like
that. Bartlett knew that other houses
in the street had made me offers. I've
been pretty lucky of late aud pulled
off one or two rather big deals, but a
partnership with L. J. Bartlett—
Think of ir. Nat!"
"I'm thinking of it. and it's great"
"It'll keep me mighty busy." Kellogg
blundered blindly on. "It means a lot
of extra work, but you know 1 like to
work."
"That's right, you do." agreed Dun
can drearily. "It's queer to me. It
must be a great thing to like to work."
"You bet it's a great thing. Why,
I couldn't exist if I Couldn't work.
You remember that time I laid off for
a month the country for my health's
sake? I'll never forget it—hanging
round all .the time with my hands
empty—every one else with something
to do. I wouldn't go through with it
again for a fortune. Never felt souse
less and in the way"—
"But." interrupted Duncan, knitting
his brows as he grappled with this
problem, "you were independent,
weren't you? You had money—could
pay your board?"
"Of course. Nevertheless I felt In
the way."
"That's funny."
"It's straight."
"I know it is. It wouldn't be you If
you didn't love work It wouldn't be
me If I did Look herp. Harry. Sup
pose you didn't bare any money and
couldn't pay your board and had noth
ing to do. How'd you feel in that
case?"
"1 don't know. Anyhow that's
rot"—
"No, it isn't rot I'm trying to make
you understand how I feel when—
when it's that way with me, as it gen
erally is." He raised one hand and
let it fall with a gesture of desponden
cy so eloquent that it roused Kello
out of his own preoccupation.
"Why, Nat!" he cried, genuinely
sympathetic. "I've been so taken up
with myself that 1 forgot. I hadn't
looked for you till tomorrow."
"You knew, then?"
"I met Atwater at lunch today. He
told me. Said he was sorry, but"—
"Yes, everybody is always sorry,
Kellogg let his hand fall on Duncan's
shoulder. "I'm sorry, too. old man.
But don't lose heart. I know it's pret
ty tough on a fellow"—
"The toughest part of it is that you
got the job for rne, aud 1 had to fall
down."
"Don't think of that. It's not your
fault"-
You're the only man who believes
that, Harry."
"Buck up. I'll stumble across some
better opening for you before long,
and"—
"Stop right there. I'm through"—
"Don't talk that way, Nat. I'll get
you in right somewhere."
"You're the best hearted man alive.
Harry, but I'll see you blasted first."
"Wait." Kellogg demanded his at
tention. "Here's this man Burnham.
You don't know him, but he's as keen
as they make 'em. He's on the track
of some wonderful scheme for making
illuminating gas from crude oil. If it
gon.s through, if the invention's really
practicable, it's bound to work a rev
olution. He's down in Washington now
—left this afternoon to look up the
patents. Now. he needs me to get the
ear of the Standard Oil people, and
I'll get you in there."
"What right 've you go to do that?"
demanded Duncan. "What the dick
ens do I know about illuminating gas
or crude oil? Rum ham "d never thank
you for the likos o' tno."
"But. thunder, you can learn. All
you need"—
"Now. see here. Harry!" Duncan
gave him pause with a manner not to
be denied "Once and for all time
understand I'm through having you
recommend an incompetent just be
cause we're friends."
"But. Harry"—
"And I'm through living on you
while I'm out of a job. That's final."
"But. man. listen to me—when we
were at college''—
"That was another matter."
"How many times did you pay the
room rent when I was strapped? How
many times did your money pull me
through when I'd have had to quit and
forfeit my degree because I couldn't
earn enough to keep on?"
"That's different. You earned enough
finally to square up. You don't owe
me anything."
"I owe you the gratitude for the
friendly hand that put me in the way
of earning—that kept me going when
the going was rank. Besides, the con
ditions are just reversed now you'll
do just as I did—make good in the
world and. when it's convenient, to me.
As for living here, you're perfectly
welcome."
"I know it—and more." Duncan as
sented a little wearily. "Don't think
I don't appreciate all you've done for
me. But 1 know and you must under
stand that I can't keep on living on
you—and I won't."
For once baffled. Kellogg stared at
him in consternation. Duncan met his
gaze steadilv. strong in the sincerity
NATHANIEL DUNCAN.
of his attitude. At length Kellogg sur
rendered, accepting defeat. "Well"—
He shrugged uncomfortably. "If you
insist."
"I do."
"Then that's settled."
"Yes, that's settled."
"Dinner," said Robbins from the
doorway, "is served."
CHAPTER III.
A^
FTER dinner they smoked and
talked about Duncan's future.
Finally Kellogg said signifi
cantly, "Nat. if you follow my
advice you can be worth a million
dollars in a year!"
"Let him rave," Duncan observed
enigmatically and began to smoke.
"No. I'm not dippy, aud I'm perfect
ly serious."
"Of course. But what'd they do to
me if I were caught?"
"This Is not a joke. The proposition's
perfectly legal. It's being done right
along."
"And I could do !t. Harry?"
Continued on Page 7.
Thanksgiving.
The first national Thanksgiving may
be said to have been the one offered
up at St. Paul's cathedral, London, for
the defeat of the Spanish armada,
September, 15SS. The English settlers
in this country naturally adopted the
custom of their native land, and at an
early period in our colonial history
Thanksgiving became quite common.
The institution may be said to be the
natural outgrowth of human nature
aud has probablj- existed in some
form or other from the earliest times.
—Exchange.
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