STICK CONFIDES HIS TROUBLES
On Wednesday of that week Crocker’s Hardware Store had announced in
the paper a twenty per cent reduction in the price of athletic goods.
Also, as Jimmy had discovered that morning, one window of Crocker’s had
been devoted to a display of football supplies and a general athletic
miscellany. Rather an attractive window it had been, too, although
the dresser had evidently experienced some difficulty in finding
sufficient articles with which to fill it, since he had eked out with
canoe paddles, baseball bats and a lunch hamper. Jimmy had reported the
matter with some concern to Russell and that morning and the mornings
following had spent a large part of his time at the front door prepared
to accost any person looking like a prospective buyer of athletic goods
before he could get as far as Crocker’s. But Russell had not seemed
greatly worried, and events proved that he had had no reason for worry.
If there was no great growth in trade at the Sign of the Football,
neither was there any perceptible falling off; and Jimmy, who kept a
sharp watch on the rival establishment, reported that so far as he
could determine Crocker’s was getting no more custom than usual.
Even with that twenty per cent discount it was doubtful if Crocker’s
prices were yet lower than those of the Sign of the Football, and until
they were Russell saw no reason for lowering his own prices. Stick
spent a miserable week, fearing financial ruin and doing surreptitious
figuring on scraps of paper. Russell was never allowed to see those
figures, but he could guess what they meant. Business was really good
now, and as the days of that week passed without any lessening of it
Stick was almost encouraged to take hope. But it took a great deal to
make Stick optimistic and he was still lugubrious when Saturday came.
Russell sought to cheer him up by displaying figures that represented
the week’s sales and the net profits, but Stick only viewed them
moodily and sniffed.
“Crocker hasn’t started on us yet,” he said.
Russell who had toiled hard and whole-heartedly for the last three days
at the task of teaching football to the first team wanted very much to
see to-day’s game. Nevertheless he would not have asked Stick to take
his place in the store, since it had become understood that on Saturday
afternoons Stick was a gentleman of leisure. But it was Stick who
proposed it. He didn’t care much about football, anyway, he observed,
and if Rus wanted to see the game he, Stick, didn’t mind looking after
business. So Russell thanked him and hurried off at three o’clock in
an effort to reach the field for the kick-off.
An hour later, the Mountain having failed to come to Mohammed, Mohammed
put on his black felt hat, left his store and walked a few doors
southward. Secretly he was incensed, outwardly he was unperturbed and
even genial. His geniality increased when he found the junior partner
instead of the senior presiding behind the counter in the Sign of the
Football. He introduced himself to Stick, and Stick replied warily that
he was glad to meet him, not being anything of the sort.
Mr. Crocker found the junior partner quite a different proposition from
Russell. Stick was uneasy and showed it. There was none of Russell’s
confident defiance about him. Mr. Crocker leaned against the counter
and talked about weather, trade, the Academy and again trade. He
impressed Stick vastly, which was just what he intended to do. Stick
lost some of his discretion and it wasn’t long before the caller was
in possession of the knowledge that Stick regretted his financial
connection with the Sign of the Football, although Stick didn’t say so
in so many words. Mr. Crocker gave it as his frank and disinterested
opinion that there had been a great mistake made when the Sign of the
Football had been opened for business. He quoted figures to Stick,
figures showing that it had never paid Mr. Crocker to carry athletic
goods and never could pay him. There was not, he confided, sufficient
trade in the town. Only the fact that those who came to purchase
athletic goods returned for hardware or related articles sold by Mr.
Crocker induced him to continue in the sporting goods business. That
sounded reasonable and Stick nodded.
Mr. Crocker suggested that being a junior partner wasn’t very
satisfactory, anyhow, since you didn’t have an equal voice in the
conduct of business, and again Stick nodded. Mr. Crocker was fast
proving himself a man of discernment and wisdom. It is an odd fact
that your extremely suspicious person--and that Stick Patterson surely
was--can be readily fooled if the right intelligence undertakes the
job. Look around and see if I’m not right. Stick reversed his opinion
of Mr. Crocker in something under thirty minutes. He no longer thought
him base and designing. On the contrary he saw now that Russell’s
picture of the hardware merchant had been quite out of drawing and
that Mr. Crocker was a kind-meaning, well-intentioned gentleman whose
seeming interference in their affairs was actuated by honest and
sympathetic motives. In short, Mr. Crocker saw from his long experience
the fate awaiting the unfortunate venture of the Sign of the Football
and, having the Golden Rule ever in mind, was doing what he could to
avert it. Having accepted that estimate of the caller and his errand,
Stick became confidential.
Ten minutes later Mr. Crocker, patting his soft hat more firmly on his
head, remarked: “Well, if your partner can’t be made to see the wise
thing there’s nothing I can say or do, Mr. Patterson.” He smiled kindly
and sorrowfully as he moved toward the door.
“I suppose not,” assented Stick gloomily. “Gee, if I could get out of
it--”
“Yes, you might do that,” said Mr. Crocker carelessly.
“Eh?” exclaimed Stick. “How could I?”
Mr. Crocker turned a slightly surprised countenance over his shoulder.
“Why, sell out, of course,” he said.
“Oh!” replied Stick disappointedly. “I’m willing enough but Russell
hasn’t got the money. He says he may have it later, but--”
“I don’t believe,” said Mr. Crocker, pausing and looking thoughtfully
through the door, “that your partner would be willing to give you more
than you put in for your share of the business.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to,” said Stick. “I’d be glad to get my money
back!”
“You ought to do a little better than that,” asserted the man. “In
fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could sell at quite a neat little
profit, Mr. Patterson.”
“I don’t believe so, sir. By the time Rus gets ready to buy me out
there won’t be any business left, I guess.”
“I agree with you, but why wait so long? Why not sell now?”
“He won’t buy now,” answered Stick, a trifle surprised at Mr. Crocker’s
density.
Mr. Crocker waved a hand carelessly. “Some one else might,” he said.
Stick stared.
“You mean that--that you--”
“Dear me, no,” protested the other. “I wouldn’t touch it for half what
you put in, Mr. Patterson. You see, I know the business. But there may
be others who don’t.”
“I guess there wouldn’t be any one who’d care to buy,” said Stick.
Mr. Crocker, he thought, was a bit visionary for a man seemingly so
hard-headed.
“Possibly not, possibly not,” Mr. Crocker returned. “Still, if I should
hear of any one looking for a small investment of the sort I’ll take
the liberty of letting you know. If it isn’t too much of a secret, Mr.
Patterson, what does your interest here amount to?”
Stick hesitated. The sum was, of course, ridiculously trifling from
the point of view of a person of Mr. Crocker’s wealth. But Stick
finally gave the figures, nevertheless. Mr. Crocker’s brows raised
incredulously.
“But your partner must have put in very much more then!”
“Only about seventy-five more,” denied Stick.
“You mean to tell me you’ve been doing business here on a capital
of something under four hundred dollars?” exclaimed Mr. Crocker.
“Astounding! Ridiculous!”
“It was all we had,” replied Stick defensively.
“H’m. Well, you won’t have so much to lose, anyway,” said the other
cheerfully. “That’s fortunate, eh?”
“A hundred and twenty-five’s a lot more than I want to lose,” answered
Stick earnestly. “If you hear of any one who will pay that much, sir, I
wish you’d let me know.”
“I will, certainly. In fact, Mr. Patterson, I’ll make inquiries.
Perhaps, though, we’d better keep this to ourselves for the present.
For instance, I wouldn’t mention it to your partner just yet. Time
enough when we have a buyer, eh? For that matter, maybe it’ll be just
as well if Mr. Emerson doesn’t learn of my call. Between you and me,
Mr. Patterson, he seems to have taken a--er--well, a dislike to me.”
Mr. Crocker smiled patiently and forgivingly. “He might, you see,
object to losing your interest, which, doubtless, he hopes to acquire
himself when he is quite ready. Perhaps he figures that by spring, say,
the business will be so run down that your interest can be purchased
for less than you’d be willing to let it go for now.” Mr. Crocker shook
his head sadly, in the manner of one who, during a blameless life,
has watched the devious ways of less upright persons. “Well, I’ll be
going,” he continued. “Very glad to have met you, Mr. Patterson, and
to have had this talk. It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable and
sensible person. Good afternoon.”
After the caller had gone Stick had one or two qualms of doubt. Had
he done right in letting Mr. Crocker so far into the secrets of the
business? Would it be fair to sell out his interest to any one save his
partner? Still, if Rus couldn’t buy, and another could--
Stick had plenty of food for thought during the rest of the day.
Russell watched the Mount Millard game from a comfortable seat in
the grandstand and heroically joined his voice to the voices of some
three hundred and seventy-five others during four hectic periods.
For neighbors he had Stanley Hassell and Bob Coolidge, those young
gentlemen having spied Russell making an eleventh-hour search for a
seat, hailed him and in some mysterious manner wedged him in between
them. No matter how much difficulty Bob Coolidge might experience in
ordinary conversation, when it came to cheering he was all there. There
was no hesitation, no stuttering, and his voice was like unto the voice
of the Bull of Bashan. But had every Altonian there that afternoon
possessed Bob’s vocal powers it is doubtful if the outcome of the game
would have been much different.
Russell saw the enemy hold the home team scoreless throughout the
first quarter, when, with the wind in her favor and all the luck of the
game with her, the Gray-and-Gold struggled valiantly and desperately
to cross the enemy’s goal-line and, twice reaching the fifteen yards,
was halted and turned back. It was in that period that Alton played her
best game, although the fact wasn’t known then. In the second quarter,
with the wind behind her, Mount Millard punted and kept on punting
until, near the end, her chance came. Then Crocker, who seemed to have
definitely won the left end position from Rhame, shooting around the
opposite end of the Alton line with the ball, was met head-on by a
watchful enemy back and in the shock of that collision let go of the
pigskin. When the whistle again piped the pigskin lay twelve yards
nearer the Alton goal and a Mount Millard lineman sprawled protectingly
above it. That was the enemy’s opportunity, for the line-up was on
Alton’s thirty-two yards and the brisk wind was blowing straight toward
the Alton goal-posts. Mount Millard tried two rushes that added four
yards more to her possession and then, amidst a deep silence, sent
her left halfback to kicking position for the third consecutive time.
This time, as friend and foe alike knew, there was no pretense about
it. A minute later the ball had sailed lazily across the bar and Mount
Millard had scored.
But three points seemed as yet nothing to worry about. Stanley
Hassell predicted that after Johnny had got through reading the riot
act in there--nodding backward toward the gymnasium--the home team
would come back and bite large and gory holes in Mount Millard. Bob
Coolidge agreed thoroughly if stutteringly and only Russell remained
pessimistic. Russell had noted the first team’s let-up in that second
period, had seen the signs before and interpreted them correctly as
subsequent events proved. Alton never again during the remaining
twenty-four minutes of actual playing time showed herself dangerous.
The third quarter was all Mount Millard, even if she didn’t score. For
Alton, who had taken a leaf from her opponent’s book and was kicking
on second down, Jimmy Austen performed creditably enough, but what he
managed to gain on his punts the enemy stole away by running back the
ball for ten, fifteen, occasionally twenty yards. The Alton ends were
heavy-footed and slow, tackled the wrong man and, when they had picked
the right one, generally missed him. Rhame went in for Crocker and Lake
for McLeod, but little improvement resulted. In the line Alton at times
seemed half asleep. The men charged high and slow, and on defense it
was only the secondary army that saved the day a dozen times. Mount
Millard paved the way for a touchdown in the final minutes of the third
quarter and secured it soon after the last period had begun. Then a
short forward-pass took the ball to the Gray-and-Gold’s twenty-seven
yards, a long-legged halfback skirted Lake for six and Mount Millard
formed for a try-at-goal. None expected it and it didn’t materialize,
but again Mount Millard edged closer, this time by a full-back sprint.
The enemy made it first down on Alton’s sixteen, and from there,
although Coach Cade threw in almost a new line from end to end, took
the ball over in four plays, the last of which went for three yards
through an utterly demoralized defense.
Mount Millard kicked the goal and made the score 10 to 0, and then set
to work to further humiliate the opponent. And she would have done so,
there is no doubt, if the last trump hadn’t brought the game to an end
just when it did. For Mount Millard was again well inside Alton’s last
defenses and coming hard.
Bob Coolidge remarked sadly as they made their way down the aisle that,
anyway, ten to nothing wasn’t as bad as nineteen to nothing, which had
been the score of last year’s win for the visitor. But neither he nor
his hearers appeared to derive much comfort from the thought!