HOLLIS RENEWS AN ACQUAINTANCE
Rumor, that mysterious disseminator of news whose tongues are legion,
whispered that the Dry Bottom _Kicker_ was to come to life.
Wherefore curiosity led many of Dry Bottom's citizens past the door of
the _Kicker_ office to steal covert glances at the young man whose
figure was bent over the desk inside. Many passed in silence after
looking at the young man--he did not see them. Others commented gravely
or humorously according to their whim--the young man did not hear them.
Seated at the desk he gave his attention to the tasks before him--he was
not concerned with rumor; the curiosity of Dry Bottom's citizens did not
affect him. Seriously, methodically, steadily, he worked at his desk,
while rumor wagged her tongues and curiosity lounged past the window.
It was Hollis's first visit to the _Kicker_ office; he had come to
work and there was much that he could do. He had found the _Kicker_
installed in a one story frame building, verging upon dilapidation,
unpainted, dingy. The appearance of its exterior had given Hollis a
queer sensation in the pit of the stomach. He was cheered a little by
the businesslike appearance of the interior. It was not what he had been
used to, but he felt that it would answer very well in this locality,
and--well, he planned to make improvements.
About twenty by forty, he estimated the size of the interior. Originally
there had been only one room. This had been divided into three sections
by partitions. An old, flat-topped desk sat near the front window, a
swivel chair before it. Along the wall above the desk were several rows
of shelving with paste-board boxes and paper piled neatly up. Calendars,
posters, and other specimens of the printer's art covered the walls. In
the next room was another desk. Piles of advertising electrotypes, empty
forms, and papers filled the corners. The composing room was in the
rear. Everything was in order here; type cases, stands, forms. There
were a proof press, some galley racks, a printing press, with a
forlorn-looking gasolene engine near it. A small cast-iron stove stood
in a corner with its door yawning open, its front bespattered with
tobacco juice. A dilapidated imposing stone ranged along the rear wall
near a door that opened into the sunlight. A man stood before one of the
type cases distributing type. He did not look up at Hollis's entrance.
"Hello!" greeted Hollis.
The man hesitated in his work and looked up. "Hello," he returned,
perfunctorily.
"I suppose your name is Potter?" Hollis inquired cordially. Judge Graney
had told him that if he succeeded in finding the compositor he would
have him at the _Kicker_ office this morning. Potter had gone to
work without further orders.
"Yes," said the man. He came forward.
"I am the new owner of the _Kicker_," Hollis informed him with a
smile.
"Jim Hollis's boy?" inquired Potter, straightening. At Hollis's nod he
stepped quickly forward and grasped the hand the latter offered him,
squeezing it tightly. "Of course you are Jim Hollis's boy!" he said,
finishing his inspection. "You are the living image of him!" He swept
his hand around toward the type case. "I am working, you see. Judge
Graney wrote me last week that you wanted me and I came as soon as I
could. Is it true that the _Kicker_ is going to be a permanent
institution?"
"The _Kicker_ is here to stay!" Hollis informed him.
Potter's face lighted with pleasure. "That's bully!" he said. "That's
bully!"
He was of medium height, slender, lean faced, with a magnificent head,
and a wealth of brown hair thickly streaked with silver. His thin lips
were strong; his chin, though a trifle weak, was well formed; his eyes
slightly bleared, but revealing, in spite of this defect, unmistakable
intelligence. In the first flashing glance which Hollis had taken at him
he had been aware that here was a person of more than ordinary mental
ability and refinement. It was with a pang of pity that he remembered
Judge Graney's words to the effect that he was a good workman--"when
sober." Hollis felt genuinely sorry for him.
"I have had a talk with Judge Graney," volunteered Potter. "He tells me
that you are a newspaper man. Between us we ought to be able to get out
a very respectable paper."
"We will," calmly announced Hollis; "and we'll get the first issue out
Saturday. Come in here and we'll talk about it."
He led the way to the front room and seated himself at the desk,
motioning Potter to another chair. Within the next hour he knew all
about the _Kicker_. It was a six-column sheet of four pages. The
first page was devoted to local news. The second carried some local
advertisements, exchange clippings, and two or three columns of
syndicate plate matter. On the third page two columns were devoted to
editorials, one to advertisements, and three to local news in large
type. The fourth, and last page was filled with more plate matter and a
litter of "foreign" advertising--patent-medicines, soaps, hair-dye.
At the first glance it appeared that the paper must be a paying
proposition, for there were a goodly proportion of advertisements. Yet
Hollis had his suspicions about the advertisements. When he had spoken
to Potter about them he discovered that quite a number of them were what
is known to the craft as "dead ads"--which meant advertisements upon
which payment had ceased and which were carried either for the purpose
of filling up the paper or because it was found cheaper to run them than
to set type for the space which would be left by their absence.
"We won't carry any dead ads!" announced Hollis.
"Several of these are big merchants," said Potter, pointing them out
with inky forefinger; "though the contracts have run out the appearance
of their ads lends the _Kicker_ a certain moral support--the little
fellows don't know that they are not paid for and it draws their
business."
"We don't care for that kind of business," smiled Hollis; "we're going
to run a real newspaper. We're going to get paid ads!"
"I hope so," hesitatingly replied Potter.
"Of course you do," laughed Hollis; "but whether we get paid ads or not
this newspaper is coming out regularly and on time. Furthermore, we're
going to cut down on this plate stuff; we don't want a paper filled with
stale articles on snakes, antedated ocean disasters, Egyptian monoliths,
and the latest style in opera hats. We'll fill the paper with local
news--we'll ginger things up a little. You are pretty well acquainted
here--I'll leave the local items to you. What town near here compares
with Dry Bottom in size?"
"There's Lazette," returned Potter; "over in Colfax County."
"How far from here?"
"Eighty miles."
"Got a newspaper?"
"Yes; the _Eagle_."
"Bully! Step on the _Eagle's_ toes. Make the _Eagle_ scream.
Get into an argument with it about something--anything. Tell Lazette
that as a town it's forty miles behind Dry Bottom. That will stir up
public spirit and boom our subscription list. You see, Potter, civic
pride is a big asset to a newspaper. We'll start a row right off the
reel. Furthermore, we're going to have some telegraph news. I'll make
arrangements for that to-day."
Hollis's enthusiasm was infectious; a flash of spirit lighted up
Potter's eyes as he rose from his chair. "I'm going to set up the head
for the first page," he said. "Probably you'll want a slogan; that sort
of thing is the style out here."
"We'll have one," returned Hollis briskly. "Set this in triple leads:
_'We Herald the Coming of the Law! The Kicker is Here to Stay!'_"
"Good!" declared Potter. He went into the composing room and Hollis saw
his fine old head bent over a type case. Hollis turned to his desk.
He sat there long, his tall, lithe body slack, grim, serious lines in
his lean face. He had thought of his conversation with Judge Graney
concerning ambition--his ambition, the picture upon which his mind had
dwelt many times. A little frame printing office in the West was not one
of its features. He sighed with resignation and began methodically to
look over the papers in the desk, finding many things to interest him.
He discovered that in spite of his father's one great fault he had been
a methodical man. He smiled regretfully, wishing that he might have been
able to have seen more of him. Among the papers he hoped to find a
personal note--a word--from his father. He found nothing of that
character.
After a time he took up a pen and began to write. Long ago he had
decided that in the first issue of the paper he would attack the
Cattlemen's Association. Judge Graney had ridden out to the Circle Bar
on the previous Saturday afternoon, remaining over Sunday, and
accompanying Hollis on the return trip Monday morning.
While at the ranch the Judge had spent much of his time in communicating
to Hollis his views of the situation in Union County and in acquainting
him with the elder Hollis's intentions regarding the newspaper. Hollis
had made some inquiries on his own account, with the result that when he
reached the _Kicker_ office this morning he felt that he had
acquired a good and sufficient knowledge of the situation.
Looking over the old copy of the _Kicker_ he studied some of the
advertisements. Evidently some Dry Bottom merchants had been brave
enough to antagonize Dunlavey by advertising in the _Kicker_. With
this copy of the _Kicker_ in hand Hollis rose from his desk, told
Potter he was going out, and proceeded to visit some of the merchants
whose advertisements appeared in the paper, hoping that their bravery
still abided with them. He made a good solicitor. Some of the merchants
flatly refused, saying they did not care to risk Dunlavey's anger.
Others demurred, confidentially announcing that they had never
considered the paper seriously and that there was really no good in
advertising in Dry Bottom anyway--the town wasn't big enough. Half a
dozen listened quietly while he told them that the _Kicker_ was in
Dry Bottom to stay and then smiled and told him to run their
advertisements. They rather admired his "nerve" and were not afraid of
Dunlavey.
At noon Hollis stepped into a restaurant called the Alhambra. While he
ate he was critically inspected; the Alhambra swarmed with customers,
and the proprietor quietly informed him that he was a "drawin' card" and
hoped he'd "grub" there regularly. In return for his promise to do so
Hollis secured his advertisement.
Leaving the Alhambra he returned to the _Kicker_ office, seating
himself again at his desk. The sun came slantwise through the window
full upon him; the heat was oppressive; the flint-like alkali dust
sifted through the crevices in the building and settled over everything
in the room; myriad flies droned in the white sunlight before the open
door. He heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing--for his thoughts were
miles away, in an upper story of a big office building in the East from
whose windows he even now looked down upon a bustling city.
Life would be so different here. He heard a sound behind him and turned.
Dunlavey was standing just inside the door, his great arms folded over
his chest. He had been watching Hollis, his eyes narrowed with a
cynically humorous expression.
Hollis knew that by this time Dunlavey must have discovered his
identity. He swung slowly around in his chair, his face wearing an
expression of whimsical amusement as he greeted his victim of a few days
previous.
"Welcome to the _Kicker_ office," he said quietly.
Dunlavey did not move. Evidently he had expected another sort of
greeting and was slightly puzzled over Hollis's manner. He remained
motionless and Hollis had an opportunity to study him carefully and
thoroughly. His conclusions were brief and comprehensive. They were
expressed tersely to himself as he waited for Dunlavey to speak: "A
trickster and a cheat--dangerous."
Dunlavey's eyes flashed metallically for an instant, but immediately the
humorous cynicism came into them again. "I don't think you mean all of
that," he said evenly.
Hollis laughed. "I am not in the habit of saying things that I do not
mean," he said quietly. "I am here to do business and I am ready to talk
to anybody who wants to do business with me."
Dunlavey's hands fell to his sides and were shoved into his capacious
trousers' pockets. "Right," he said tersely: "that's what I'm here
for--to talk business."
He pulled a chair over close to Hollis and seated himself in it, moving
deliberately, a certain grim reserve in his manner. Hollis watched him,
marveling at his self-control. He reflected that it required will power
of a rare sort to repress or conceal the rage which he surely must feel
over his humiliation of two weeks before. That Dunlavey was able to so
mask his feelings convinced Hollis that he had to deal with a man of
extraordinary character.
"I recollect meeting you the other day," said Dunlavey after he had
become seated. He smiled with his lips, his eyes glittering again. "I'll
say that we got acquainted then. There ain't no need for us to shake
hands now." He showed his teeth in a mirthless grin. "I didn't know you
then, but I know you now. You're Jim Hollis's boy."
Hollis nodded. Dunlavey continued evenly: "Your father and me wasn't
what you might call bosom friends. I reckon Judge Graney has told you
that--if he ain't you've heard it from some one else. It don't make any
difference. So there won't be any misunderstanding I'll tell you that I
ain't figgering on you and me hitching up to the mutual friendship wagon
either. I might say that we wasn't introduced right." He grinned evilly.
"But I ain't letting what happened interfere with the business that's
brought me here to-day. I've heard that you're intending to start the
_Kicker_ again; that you're figgering on staying here and running
the Circle Bar. What I'm here for is to buy you out. I'm offering you
fifteen thousand dollars for the Circle Bar and this damn newspaper."
Dunlavey had lost a little of the composure which had characterized his
actions since entering the office and the last words of his speech had
writhed venomously through his lips.
Hollis's face betrayed absolutely no emotion. Though Dunlavey's visit to
the _Kicker_ office had surprised him he was not surprised at his
offer for the ranch and the newspaper, for according to Judge Graney he
had made some such offer to the elder Hollis. Coming now, with an
addition of five thousand dollars, Dunlavey's offer seemed to advertise
his reluctance to continue the war that he had waged. Hollis appreciated
the situation. If Dunlavey were to buy him off now there would come an
end to the warfare that had already been an expensive one for the
interests represented by Dunlavey. Likewise, the acceptance of the offer
would give Hollis an opportunity to withdraw gracefully. Dunlavey had
placed the issue squarely before him. The young man held his future in
his hands and he did not reply at once.
He sat silent for a few moments, studying the coarse, brutal face of the
man seated before him, noting that his under jaw had come forward
slightly, and that the cold, hard glitter had come again in his eyes.
However, Hollis's silence meant nothing beyond the fact that he was
going slowly over the history of the fight between his father and the
man who sat there representing the interests which had begun the war. He
had no thought of surrendering--that would be dishonorable. He was
merely revolving the situation in his mind, considering how best to word
his refusal. He did not want to appear belligerent; he did not want to
precipitate war. But he did want Dunlavey to know that he purposed to
have his rights; he wanted Dunlavey to know that he could not be
frightened into surrendering them. He clasped one hand over his knee and
leaned back in his chair, his gaze meeting Dunlavey's steadily.
"Dunlavey," he said quietly, "what is the actual value of the Circle Bar
ranch?"
Dunlavey smiled blandly. "You couldn't find any man around these parts
to take it at any price," he returned.
"Why?" questioned Hollis.
Dunlavey grinned mysteriously. "I reckon you know why," he returned;
"you're pretty much of a tenderfoot, but I reckon Judge Graney has put
you wise to the situation. There ain't nobody wants to buy the Circle
Bar except me."
"Why?" persisted Hollis.
"I reckon you know that too," laughed Dunlavey. "It ain't no secret. The
Cattlemen's Association is running things in this here county and it
ain't wanting anyone to buy the Circle Bar except me. And nobody is fool
enough to antagonize the Association. That's the why, if you want to
know real bad."
"You are frank about it at any rate," conceded Hollis smiling slightly.
"But that doesn't get us anywhere. What I am trying to get at is this:
what would the Circle Bar bring in cash if the Cattlemen's Association
ceased to be a factor in the county?" Dunlavey grinned broadly. "For a
tenderfoot you're real amusing," he derided. "There ain't nobody out
here crazy enough to think that the Cattlemen's Association will ever be
put out of business!"
Hollis's lips curled a little, but his gaze was still steady.
"That's evasion, Dunlavey," he said quietly. "You will remember that I
asked you what the Circle Bar would bring 'if' the Association ceased to
be a factor."
Dunlavey favored Hollis with a perplexed grin. "I don't know what
difference that makes," he returned. "We're dealing with what's before
us now--we ain't considering what might be. But if you want to know my
personal opinion it's that the Circle Bar might bring thirty thousand."
"Thanks," said Hollis dryly; "that's getting somewhere. And now we'll be
able to talk business. We've got thirty thousand to start with. I am
told that when the Association began its war against my father he was
rather prosperous. Usually he rounded up about two thousand head of
cattle. But we'll call it a thousand. We'll say that they brought about
thirty dollars a head, which would make an income of thirty thousand
dollars a year, gross. We'll deduct fifty per cent for operating
expenses, losses, and so on. That would leave about fifteen thousand.
You've been fighting the Circle Bar for several years. We'll call it
five. Five times fifteen thousand is seventy-five thousand. That
represents the sum which my father would have made from the Circle Bar
if you had not fought him. Add to that the thirty thousand which you
admit would be a fair figure for the ranch if the Association were
eliminated as a factor, and we have a total of one hundred and five
thousand dollars." He smiled and leaned a little farther back in his
chair, narrowing his eyes at Dunlavey. "Now we have reached a point
where we can get somewhere. I'll take one hundred thousand dollars for
the Circle Bar."
The calm announcement had no effect upon Dunlavey except to cause him to
grin derisively.
"For a tenderfoot you're pretty slick," he allowed, his teeth showing.
"You've figgered it out so that it sounds right reasonable. But you've
forgot one thing. The Cattlemen's Association ain't eliminated. It says
that the Circle Bar is worth fifteen thousand. You'll take that or----"
He smiled grimly, holding back the threat.
"I think I know what you mean," said Hollis quietly, without changing
color. "You mean that the Cattlemen's Association will continue its
fight and eventually ruin the Circle Bar. Perhaps it will--no man can
tell what lies in the future. But I can tell you this: you can't retard
progress."
"No?" said Dunlavey with an irritating drawl.
Hollis smiled composedly. He spoke without bitterness. "Dunlavey," he
said, "I'm going to tell you something which you perhaps know but will
not admit. Your Association has been successful in pulling the strings
which make the politicians at Washington jump to do your bidding. I
don't accuse you of buying them, but in any event they have greased the
ways over which your Association has slipped to power. And now you think
that the impetus you have gained will carry you along indefinitely. It
won't. Everything in this world runs its natural course and when it does
there comes an end.
"If you were endowed with the average foresight you would be able to see
that things cannot always go on the way they have. The law must come. It
is inevitable. Its coming will be facilitated by such organizations as
the Cattlemen's Association and by such men as you. Back in the East the
forces of Good and Bad are battling. The forces of Good will be
victorious. The government at Washington is familiar with the conditions
that exist here and sooner or later will be compelled to act. When it
does the small cattle owner will receive protection."
"We're holding tight till the law comes," sneered Dunlavey; "which won't
be soon."
"Perhaps not," admitted Hollis dryly; "good things come slowly.
Meanwhile, if you don't care to accept my figure for the Circle Bar I
shall follow your example and hold tight until the law comes."
"Meaning that you won't sell, I suppose?" sneered Dunlavey.
"Meaning just that," returned Hollis quietly. "I am going to fight you.
I have offered the Circle Bar at a fair figure and you have responded
with threats. I wouldn't sell to you now if you offered one hundred and
fifty thousand. The Circle Bar is not for sale!"
Dunlavey had not moved. He sat quiet, leaning a little forward, his
hands resting on his knees, his eyes narrowed to glittering pin-points
as he watched Hollis. When the latter had concluded he leaned back,
laughing hoarsely.
"What are you going to do with this damn newspaper?" he demanded.
"The newspaper will be used as a weapon against you," returned Hollis.
"It will kick loud and long against such organizations as the
Cattlemen's Association--against such men as you. Ostensibly the
_Kicker_ will be a Dry Bottom newspaper, but it will appear in
every city in the East; the matter that appears in it will be reprinted
in Chicago, in Washington, in New York--in fact in every city in which I
have a friend engaged in the newspaper business--and I have a number. I
am going to stir up sentiment against you. I am going to be the Law's
advance agent!"
Dunlavey rose, his lips curling with contempt. "You make me sick!" he
sneered. He turned his back and walked to the door, returning and
standing in front of Hollis, ominously cool and deliberate. "So that's
the how of it?" he said evenly. "You've come out here looking for fight.
Well, you'll get it--plenty of it. I owe you something----"
"Wait, Dunlavey," Hollis interrupted, without excitement; "I want you to
understand that there isn't anything personal in this. I am going to
fight you because you are a member of the Cattlemen's Association and
not because you were my father's enemy. I am not afraid of you. I
suspect that you will try to make things decidedly interesting for me
from now on and I suppose I ought to be properly troubled. But I am not.
I shall not be surprised at anything you do. I think that is all. Please
close the door when you go out."
He turned to the desk, ignoring Dunlavey. Sitting there, his senses
alert, he heard the door slam. From beyond it came a curse. Silence
again reigned in the office; Hollis was alone with the dust and the
heat--and some very original thoughts.