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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Go-Getter
+
+Author: Peter B. Kyne
+
+Release Date: May 4, 2004 [EBook #12257]
+[Last updated: May 25, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GO-GETTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy, and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Go-Getter
+
+A Story That Tells You How to be One
+
+By Peter B. Kyne
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DEDICATION
+
+     THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAD CHIEF,
+     BRIGADIER-GENERAL LEROY S. LYON, SOMETIME COMMANDER OF THE
+     65TH FIELD ARTILLERY BRIGADE, 40TH DIVISION, UNITED STATES
+     ARMY.
+
+     HE PRACTICED AND PREACHED A RELIGION OF LOYALTY TO THE COUNTRY
+     AND THE APPOINTED TASK, WHATEVER IT MIGHT BE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I
+
+Mr. Alden P. Ricks, known in Pacific Coast wholesale lumber and shipping
+circles as Cappy Ricks, had more troubles than a hen with ducklings. He
+remarked as much to Mr. Skinner, president and general manager of the
+Ricks Logging & Lumbering Company, the corporate entity which
+represented Cappy's vast lumber interests; and he fairly barked the
+information at Captain Matt Peasley, his son-in-law and also president
+and manager of the Blue Star Navigation Company, another corporate
+entity which represented the Ricks interest in the American mercantile
+marine.
+
+Mr. Skinner received this information in silence. He was not related to
+Cappy Ricks. But Matt Peasley sat down, crossed his legs and matched
+glares with his mercurial father-in-law.
+
+"_You_ have troubles!" he jeered, with emphasis on the pronoun. "Have
+you got a misery in your back, or is Herbert Hoover the wrong man for
+Secretary of Commerce?"
+
+"Stow your sarcasm, young feller," Cappy shrilled. "You know dad-blamed
+well it isn't a question of health or politics. It's the fact that in my
+old age I find myself totally surrounded by the choicest aggregation of
+mental duds since Ajax defied the lightning."
+
+"Meaning whom?"
+
+"You and Skinner."
+
+"Why, what have we done?"
+
+"You argued me into taking on the management of twenty-five of those
+infernal Shipping Board freighters, and no sooner do we have them
+allocated to us than a near panic hits the country, freight rates go to
+glory, marine engineers go on strike and every infernal young whelp we
+send out to take charge of one of our offices in the Orient promptly
+gets the swelled head and thinks he's divinely ordained to drink up all
+the synthetic Scotch whiskey manufactured in Japan for the benefit of
+thirsty Americans. In my old age you two have forced us into the
+position of having to fire folks by cable. Why? Because we're breaking
+into a game that can't be played on the home grounds. A lot of our
+business is so far away we can't control it."
+
+Matt Peasley leveled an accusing finger at Cappy Ricks. "We never argued
+you into taking over the management of those Shipping Board boats. We
+argued me into it. I'm the goat. You have nothing to do with it. You
+retired ten years ago. All the troubles in the marine end of this shop
+belong on my capable shoulders, old settler."
+
+"Theoretically--yes. Actually--no. I hope you do not expect me to
+abandon mental as well as physical effort. Great Wampus Cats! Am I to be
+denied a sentimental interest in matters where I have a controlling
+financial interest? I admit you two boys are running my affairs and
+ordinarily you run them rather well, but--but--ahem! Harumph-h-h! What's
+the matter with you, Matt? And you, also, Skinner? If Matt makes a
+mistake, it's your job to remind him of it before the results manifest
+themselves, is it not? And vice versa. Have you two boobs lost your
+ability to judge men or did you ever have such ability?"
+
+"You're referring to Henderson, of the Shanghai office, I dare say," Mr.
+Skinner cut in.
+
+"I am, Skinner. And I'm here to remind you that if we'd stuck to our own
+game, which is coast-wise shipping, and had left the trans-Pacific field
+with its general cargoes to others, we wouldn't have any Shanghai office
+at this moment and we would not be pestered by the Hendersons of this
+world."
+
+"He's the best lumber salesman we've ever had," Mr. Skinner defended. "I
+had every hope that he would send us orders for many a cargo for Asiatic
+delivery."
+
+"And he had gone through every job in this office, from office boy to
+sales manager in the lumber department and from freight clerk to
+passenger agent in the navigation company," Matt Peasley supplemented.
+
+"I admit all of that. But did you consult me when you decided to send
+him out to China on his own?"
+
+"Of course not. I'm boss of the Blue Star Navigation Company, am I not?
+The man was in charge of the Shanghai office before you ever opened your
+mouth to discharge your cargo of free advice."
+
+"I told you then that Henderson wouldn't make good, didn't I?"
+
+"You did."
+
+"And now I have an opportunity to tell you the little tale you didn't
+give me an opportunity to tell you before you sent him out. Henderson
+_was_ a good man--a crackerjack man--when he had a better man over him.
+But--I've been twenty years reducing a tendency on the part of that
+fellow's head to bust his hat-band. And now he's gone south with a
+hundred and thirty thousand taels of our Shanghai bank account."
+
+"Permit me to remind you, Mr. Ricks," Mr. Skinner cut in coldly, "that
+he was bonded to the extent of a quarter of a million dollars."
+
+"Not a peep out of you, Skinner. Not a peep. Permit me to remind _you_
+that I'm the little genius who placed that insurance unknown to you and
+Matt. And I recall now that I was reminded by you, Matthew, my son, that
+I had retired ten years ago and please, would I quit interfering in the
+internal administration of your office."
+
+"Well, I must admit your far-sightedness in that instance will keep the
+Shanghai office out of the red ink this year," Matt Peasley replied.
+"However, we face this situation, Cappy. Henderson has drunk and gambled
+and signed chits in excess of his salary. He hasn't attended to business
+and he's capped his inefficiency by absconding with our bank account. We
+couldn't foresee that. When we send a man out to the Orient to be our
+manager there, we have to trust him all the way or not at all. So there
+is no use weeping over spilled milk, Cappy. Our job is to select a
+successor to Henderson and send him out to Shanghai on the next boat."
+
+"Oh, very well, Matt," Cappy replied magnanimously, "I'll not rub it
+into you. I suppose I'm far from generous, bawling you out like this.
+Perhaps, when you're my age and have a lot of mental and moral cripples
+nip you and draw blood as often as they've drawn it on me you'll be a
+better judge than I of men worthy of the weight of responsibility.
+Skinner, have you got a candidate for this job?"
+
+"I regret to say, sir, I have not. All of the men in my department are
+quite young--too young for the responsibility."
+
+"What do you mean--young?" Cappy blazed.
+
+"Well, the only man I would consider for the job is Andrews and he is
+too young--about thirty, I should say."
+
+"About thirty, eh? Strikes me you were about twenty-eight when I threw
+ten thousand a year at you in actual cash, and a couple of million
+dollars' worth of responsibility."
+
+"Yes sir, but then Andrews has never been tested----"
+
+"Skinner," Cappy interrupted in his most awful voice, "it's a constant
+source of amazement to me why I refrain from firing you. You say Andrews
+has never been tested. Why hasn't he been tested? Why are we maintaining
+untested material in this shop, anyhow? Eh? Answer me that. Tut, tut,
+tut! Not a peep out of you, sir. If you had done your Christian duty,
+you would have taken a year's vacation when lumber was selling itself in
+1919 and 1920, and you would have left Andrews sitting in at your desk
+to see the sort of stuff he's made of."
+
+"It's a mighty lucky thing I didn't go away for a year," Skinner
+protested respectfully, "because the market broke--like that--and if you
+don't think we have to hustle to sell sufficient lumber to keep our own
+ships busy freighting it--"
+
+"Skinner, how dare you contradict me? How old was Matt Peasley when I
+turned over the Blue Star Navigation Company to him, lock, stock and
+barrel? Why, he wasn't twenty-six years old. Skinner, you're a dodo! The
+killjoys like you who have straddled the neck of industry and throttled
+it with absurd theories that a man's back must be bent like an ox-bow
+and his locks snowy white before he can be entrusted with responsibility
+and a living wage, have caused all of our wars and strikes. This is a
+young man's world, Skinner, and don't you ever forget it. The go-getters
+of this world are under thirty years of age. Matt," he concluded,
+turning to his son-in-law, "what do you think of Andrews for that
+Shanghai job?"
+
+"I think he'll do."
+
+"Why do you think he'll do?"
+
+"Because he ought to do. He's been with us long enough to have acquired
+sufficient experience to enable him--"
+
+"Has he acquired the courage to tackle the job, Matt?" Cappy
+interrupted. "That's more important than this doggoned experience you
+and Skinner prate so much about."
+
+"I know nothing of his courage. I assume that he has force and
+initiative. I know he has a pleasing personality."
+
+"Well, before we send him out we ought to know whether or no he has
+force and initiative."
+
+"Then," quoth Matt Peasley, rising, "I wash my hands of the job of
+selecting Henderson's successor. You've butted in, so I suggest you name
+the lucky man."
+
+"Yes, indeed," Skinner agreed. "I'm sure it's quite beyond my poor
+abilities to uncover Andrews' force and initiative on such notice. He
+does possess sufficient force and initiative for his present job, but--"
+
+"But will he possess force and initiative when he has to make a quick
+decision six thousand miles from expert advice, and stand or fall by
+that decision? That's what we want to know, Skinner."
+
+"I suggest, sir," Mr. Skinner replied with chill politeness, "that you
+conduct the examination."
+
+"I accept the nomination, Skinner. By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet! The
+next man we send out to that Shanghai office is going to be a go-getter.
+We've had three managers go rotten on us and that's three too many."
+
+And without further ado, Cappy swung his aged legs up on to his desk and
+slid down in his swivel chair until he rested on his spine. His head
+sank on his breast and he closed his eyes.
+
+"He's framing the examination for Andrews," Matt Peasley whispered, as
+he and Skinner made their exits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II
+
+The President emeritus of the Ricks' interests was not destined to
+uninterrupted cogitation, however. Within ten minutes his private
+exchange operator called him to the telephone.
+
+"What is it?" Cappy yelled into the transmitter.
+
+"There is a young man in the general office. His name is Mr. William E.
+Peck and he desires to see you personally."
+
+Cappy sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Have him shown in."
+
+Almost immediately the office boy ushered Mr. Peck into Cappy's
+presence. The moment he was fairly inside the door the visitor halted,
+came easily and naturally to "attention" and bowed respectfully, while
+the cool glance of his keen blue eyes held steadily the autocrat of the
+Blue Star Navigation Company.
+
+"Mr. Ricks, Peck is my name, sir--William E. Peck. Thank you, sir, for
+acceding to my request for an interview."
+
+"Ahem! Hum-m-m!" Cappy looked belligerent. "Sit down, Mr. Peck."
+
+Mr. Peck sat down, but as he crossed to the chair beside Cappy's desk,
+the old gentleman noticed that his visitor walked with a slight limp,
+and that his left forearm had been amputated half way to the elbow. To
+the observant Cappy, the American Legion button in Mr. Peck's lapel told
+the story.
+
+"Well, Mr. Peck," he queried gently, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"I've called for my job," the veteran replied briefly.
+
+"By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!" Cappy ejaculated, "you say that like a
+man who doesn't expect to be refused."
+
+"Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features rippled into
+the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen. "I am a salesman,
+Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to be true because I have
+demonstrated, over a period of five years, that I can sell my share of
+anything that has a hockable value. I have always found, however, that
+before proceeding to sell goods I had to sell the manufacturer of those
+goods something, to-wit--myself! I am about to sell myself to you."
+
+"Son," said Cappy smilingly, "you win. You've sold me already. When did
+they sell you a membership in the military forces of the United States
+of America?"
+
+"On the morning of April 7th, 1917, sir."
+
+"That clinches our sale. I soldiered with the Knights of Columbus at
+Camp Kearny myself, but when they refused to let me go abroad with my
+division my heart was broken, so I went over the hill."
+
+That little touch of the language of the line appeared to warm Mr.
+Peck's heart considerably, establishing at once a free masonry between
+them.
+
+"I was with the Portland Lumber Company, selling lumber in the Middle
+West before the war," he explained. "Uncle Sam gave me my sheepskin at
+Letter-man General Hospital last week, with half disability on my ten
+thousand dollars' worth of government insurance. Whittling my wing was a
+mere trifle, but my broken leg was a long time mending, and now it's
+shorter than it really ought to be. And I developed pneumonia with
+influenza and they found some T.B. indications after that. I've been at
+the government tuberculosis hospital at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, for a
+year. However, what's left of me is certified to be sound. I've got five
+inches chest expansion and I feel fine."
+
+"Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded.
+
+"Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my right arm. I
+can think and I can write, and even if one of my wheels is flat, I can
+hike longer and faster after an order than most. Got a job for me, Mr.
+Ricks?"
+
+"No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten years
+ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social frivolity--a place
+to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the street. Our Mr. Skinner
+is the chap you should see."
+
+"I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied, "but he
+wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the conclusion that I was
+attempting to trade him my empty sleeve. He informed me that there
+wasn't sufficient business to keep his present staff of salesmen busy,
+so then I told him I'd take anything, from stenographer up. I'm the
+champion one-handed typist of the United States Army. I can tally lumber
+and bill it. I can keep books and answer the telephone."
+
+"No encouragement, eh?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, now, son," Cappy informed his cheerful visitor confidentially,
+"you take my tip and see my son-in-law, Captain Peasley. He's high, low
+and jack-in-the-game in the shipping end of our business."
+
+"I have also interviewed Captain Peasley. He was very kind. He said he
+felt that he owed me a job, but business is so bad he couldn't make a
+place for me. He told me he is now carrying a dozen ex-service men
+merely because he hasn't the heart to let them go. I believe him."
+
+"Well, my dear boy--my dear young friend! Why do you come to me?"
+
+"Because," Mr. Peck replied smilingly, "I want you to go over their
+heads and give me a job. I don't care a hoot what it is, provided I can
+do it. If I can do it, I'll do it better than it was ever done before,
+and if I can't do that I'll quit to save you the embarrassment of firing
+me. I'm not an object of charity, but I'm scarcely the man I used to be
+and I'm four years behind the procession and have to catch up. I have
+the best of references--"
+
+"I see you have," Cappy cut in blandly, and pressed the push-button on
+his desk. Mr. Skinner entered. He glanced disapprovingly at William E.
+Peck and then turned inquiring eyes toward Cappy Ricks.
+
+"Skinner, dear boy," Cappy purred amiably, "I've been thinking over the
+proposition to send Andrews out to the Shanghai office, and I've come to
+this conclusion. We'll have to take a chance. At the present time that
+office is in charge of a stenographer, and we've got to get a manager on
+the job without further loss of time. So I'll tell you what we'll do.
+We'll send Andrews out on the next boat, but inform him that his
+position is temporary. Then if he doesn't make good out there we can
+take him back into this office, where he is a most valuable man.
+Meanwhile--ahem! hum-m-m! Harumph!--meanwhile, you'd oblige me greatly,
+Skinner, my dear boy, if you would consent to take this young man into
+your office and give him a good work-out to see the stuff he's made of.
+As a favor to me, Skinner, my dear boy, as a favor to me."
+
+Mr. Skinner, in the language of the sporting world, was down for the
+count--and knew it. Young Mr. Peck knew it too, and smiled graciously
+upon the general manager, for young Mr. Peck had been in the army, where
+one of the first great lessons to be assimilated is this: that the
+commanding general's request is always tantamount to an order.
+
+"Very well, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly. "Have you arranged the
+compensation to be given Mr. Peck?"
+
+Cappy threw up a deprecating hand. "That detail is entirely up to you,
+Skinner. Far be it from me to interfere in the internal administration
+of your department. Naturally you will pay Mr. Peck what he is worth and
+not a cent more." He turned to the triumphant Peck. "Now, you listen to
+me, young feller. If you think you're slipping gracefully into a good
+thing, disabuse your mind of that impression right now. You'll step
+right up to the plate, my son, and you'll hit the ball fairly on the
+nose, and you'll do it early and often. The first time you tip a foul,
+you'll be warned. The second time you do it you'll get a month's lay-off
+to think it over, and the third time you'll be out--for keeps. Do I make
+myself clear?"
+
+"You do, sir," Mr. Peck declared happily. "All I ask is fighting room
+and I'll hack my way into Mr. Skinner's heart. Thank you, Mr. Skinner,
+for consenting to take me on. I appreciate your action very, very much
+and shall endeavor to be worthy of your confidence."
+
+"Young scoundrel! In-fer-nal young scoundrel!" Cappy murmured to
+himself. "He has a sense of humor, thank God! Ah, poor old narrow-gauge
+Skinner! If that fellow ever gets a new or unconventional thought in his
+stodgy head, it'll kill him overnight. He's hopping mad right now,
+because he can't say a word in his own defense, but if he doesn't make
+hell look like a summer holiday for Mr. Bill Peck, I'm due to be
+mercifully chloroformed. Good Lord, how empty life would be if I
+couldn't butt in and raise a little riot every once in so often."
+
+Young Mr. Peck had risen and was standing at attention. "When do I
+report for duty, sir?" he queried of Mr. Skinner.
+
+"Whenever you're ready," Skinner retorted with a wintry smile. Mr. Peck
+glanced at a cheap wrist watch. "It's twelve o'clock now," he
+soliloquized aloud. "I'll pop out, wrap myself around some rations and
+report on the job at one P.M. I might just as well knock out half a
+day's pay." He glanced at Cappy Ricks and quoted:
+
+    "Count that day lost whose low descending sun
+    Finds prices shot to glory and business done for fun."
+
+Unable to maintain his composure in the face of such levity during
+office hours, Mr. Skinner withdrew, still wrapped in his sub-Antarctic
+dignity. As the door closed behind him, Mr. Peck's eyebrows went up in a
+manner indicative of apprehension.
+
+"I'm off to a bad start, Mr. Ricks," he opined.
+
+"You only asked for a start," Cappy piped back at him. "I didn't
+guarantee you a _good_ start, and I wouldn't because I can't. I can only
+drive Skinner and Matt Peasley so far--and no farther. There's always a
+point at which I quit--er--ah--William."
+
+"More familiarly known as Bill Peck, sir."
+
+"Very well, Bill." Cappy slid out to the edge of his chair and peered at
+Bill Peck balefully over the top of his spectacles. "I'll have my eye on
+you, young feller," he shrilled. "I freely acknowledge our indebtedness
+to you, but the day you get the notion in your head that this office is
+an old soldiers' home--" He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder what Skinner
+_will_ pay you?" he mused. "Oh, well," he continued, whatever it is,
+take it and say nothing and when the moment is propitious--and provided
+you've earned it--I'll intercede with the danged old relic and get you a
+raise."
+
+"Thank you very much, sir. You are most kind. Good-day, sir."
+
+And Bill Peck picked up his hat and limped out of The Presence. Scarcely
+had the door closed behind him than Mr. Skinner re-entered Cappy Ricks'
+lair. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cappy silenced him with an
+imperious finger.
+
+"Not a peep out of you, Skinner, my dear boy," he chirped amiably. "I
+know exactly what you're going to say and I admit your right to say it,
+but--as--ahem! Harumph-h-h!--now, Skinner, listen to reason. How the
+devil could you have the heart to reject that crippled ex-soldier? There
+he stood, on one sound leg, with his sleeve tucked into his coat pocket
+and on his homely face the grin of an unwhipped, unbeatable man. But
+you--blast your cold, unfeeling soul, Skinner!--looked him in the eye
+and turned him down like a drunkard turns down near-beer. Skinner, how
+_could_ you do it?"
+
+Undaunted by Cappy's admonitory finger, Mr. Skinner struck a distinctly
+defiant attitude.
+
+"There is no sentiment in business," he replied angrily. "A week ago
+last Thursday the local posts of the American Legion commenced their
+organized drive for jobs for their crippled and unemployed comrades, and
+within three days you've sawed off two hundred and nine such jobs on the
+various corporations that you control. The gang you shipped up to the
+mill in Washington has already applied for a charter for a new post to
+be known as Cappy Ricks Post No. 534. And you had experienced men
+discharged to make room for these ex-soldiers."
+
+"You bet I did," Cappy yelled triumphantly. "It's always Old Home Week
+in every logging camp and saw-mill in the Northwest for I.W.W.'s and
+revolutionary communists. I'm sick of their unauthorized strikes and
+sabotage, and by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, Cappy Ricks Post. No. 534,
+American Legion, is the only sort of back-fire I can think of to put the
+Wobblies on the run."
+
+"Every office and ship and retail yard could be run by a
+first-sergeant," Skinner complained. "I'm thinking of having reveille
+and retreat and bugle calls and Saturday morning inspections. I tell
+you, sir, the Ricks interests have absorbed all the old soldiers
+possible and at the present moment those interests are overflowing with
+glory. What we want are workers, not talkers. These ex-soldiers spend
+too much time fighting their battles over again."
+
+"Well, Comrade Peck is the last one I'll ask you to absorb, Skinner,"
+Cappy promised contritely. "Ever read Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads,
+Skinner?"
+
+"I have no time to read," Mr. Skinner protested.
+
+"Go up town this minute and buy a copy and read one ballad entitled
+'Tommy,'" Cappy barked. "For the good of your immortal soul," he added.
+
+"Well, Comrade Peck doesn't make a hit with me, Mr. Ricks. He applied to
+me for a job and I gave him his answer. Then he went to Captain Matt and
+was refused, so, just to demonstrate his bad taste, he went over our
+heads and induced you to pitchfork him into a job. He'll curse the day
+he was inspired to do that."
+
+"Skinner! Skinner! Look me in the eye! Do you know why I asked you to
+take on Bill Peck?"
+
+"I do. Because you're too tender-hearted for your own good."
+
+"You unimaginative dunderhead! You jibbering jackdaw! How could I reject
+a boy who simply would not be rejected? Why, I'll bet a ripe peach that
+Bill Peck was one of the doggondest finest soldiers you ever saw. He
+carries his objective. He sized you up just like that, Skinner. He
+declined to permit you to block him. Skinner, that Peck person has been
+opposed by experts. Yes, sir--experts! What kind of a job are you going
+to give him, Skinner, my dear boy?"
+
+"Andrews' job, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes, I forgot. Skinner, dear boy, haven't we got about half a
+million feet of skunk spruce to saw off on somebody?" Mr. Skinner nodded
+and Cappy continued with all the naïve eagerness of one who has just
+made a marvelous discovery, which he is confident will revolutionize
+science. "Give him that stinking stuff to peddle, Skinner, and if you
+can dig up a couple of dozen carloads of red fir or bull pine in
+transit, or some short or odd-length stock, or some larch ceiling or
+flooring, or some hemlock random stock--in fact, anything the trade
+doesn't want as a gift--you get me, don't you, Skinner?"
+
+Mr. Skinner smiled his swordfish smile. "And if he fails to make
+good--_au revoir_, eh?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, although I hate to think about it. On the other
+hand, if he makes good he's to have Andrews' salary. We must be fair,
+Skinner. Whatever our faults we must always be fair." He rose and patted
+the general manager's lean shoulder. "There, there, Skinner, my boy.
+Forgive me if I've been a trifle--ah--ahem!--precipitate
+and--er--harumph-h-h! Skinner, if you put a prohibitive price on that
+skunk fir, by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet, I'll fire you! Be fair, boy,
+be fair. No dirty work, Skinner. Remember, Comrade Peck has half of his
+left forearm buried in France."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+III
+
+
+At twelve-thirty, as Cappy was hurrying up California Street to luncheon
+at the Commercial Club, he met Bill Peck limping down the sidewalk. The
+ex-soldier stopped him and handed him a card.
+
+"What do you think of that, sir?" he queried. "Isn't it a neat business
+card?"
+
+Cappy read:
+
+   +---------------------------------------------------+
+   |       RICKS LUMBER & LOGGING COMPANY              |
+   |          Lumber and its products                  |
+   |             248 California St.                    |
+   |               San Francisco.                      |
+   |                                                   |
+   | Represented by                                    |
+   | William E. Peck                                   |
+   |   If you can drive nails in it--we have it!       |
+   +---------------------------------------------------+
+
+Cappy Ricks ran a speculative thumb over Comrade Peck's business card.
+It was engraved. And copper plates or steel dies are not made in half an
+hour!
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" This was Cappy's most terrible oath and
+he never employed it unless rocked to his very foundations. "Bill, as
+one bandit to another--come clean. When did you first make up your mind
+to go to work for us?"
+
+"A week ago," Comrade Peck replied blandly.
+
+"And what was your grade when Kaiser Bill went A.W.O.L.?"
+
+"I was a buck."
+
+"I don't believe you. Didn't anybody ever offer you something better?"
+
+"Frequently. However, if I had accepted I would have had to resign the
+nicest job I ever had. There wasn't much money in it, but it was filled
+with excitement and interesting experiments. I used to disguise myself
+as a Christmas tree or a box car and pick off German sharp-shooters. I
+was known as Peck's Bad Boy. I was often tempted to quit, but whenever
+I'd reflect on the number of American lives I was saving daily, a
+commission was just a scrap of paper to me."
+
+"If you'd ever started in any other branch of the service you'd have run
+John J. Pershing down to lance corporal. Bill, listen! Have you ever had
+any experience selling skunk spruce?"
+
+Comrade Peck was plainly puzzled. He shook his head. "What sort of stock
+is it?" he asked.
+
+"Humboldt County, California, spruce, and it's coarse and stringy and
+wet and heavy and smells just like a skunk directly after using. I'm
+afraid Skinner's going to start you at the bottom--and skunk spruce is
+it.
+
+"Can you drive nails in it, Mr. Ricks?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Does anybody ever buy skunk spruce, sir?"
+
+"Oh, occasionally one of our bright young men digs up a half-wit who's
+willing to try anything once. Otherwise, of course, we would not
+continue to manufacture it. Fortunately, Bill, we have very little of
+it, but whenever our woods boss runs across a good tree he hasn't the
+heart to leave it standing, and as a result, we always have enough skunk
+spruce on hand to keep our salesmen humble."
+
+"I can sell anything--at a price," Comrade Peck replied unconcernedly,
+and continued on his way back to the office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+IV
+
+
+For two months Cappy Ricks saw nothing of Bill Peck. That enterprising
+veteran had been sent out into the Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas
+territory the moment he had familiarized himself with the numerous
+details regarding freight rates, weights and the mills he represented,
+all things which a salesman should be familiar with before he starts out
+on the road. From Salt Lake City he wired an order for two carloads of
+larch rustic and in Ogden he managed to inveigle a retail yard with
+which Mr. Skinner had been trying to do business for years, into
+sampling a carload of skunk spruce boards, random lengths and grades, at
+a dollar above the price given him by Skinner. In Arizona he worked up
+some new business in mining timbers, but it was not until he got into
+the heart of Texas that Comrade Peck really commenced to demonstrate his
+selling ability. Standard oil derricks were his specialty and he shot
+the orders in so fast that Mr. Skinner was forced to wire him for mercy
+and instruct him to devote his talent to the disposal of cedar shingles
+and siding, Douglas fir and redwood. Eventually he completed his circle
+and worked his way home, via Los Angeles, pausing however, in the San
+Joaquin Valley to sell two more carloads of skunk spruce. When this
+order was wired in, Mr. Skinner came to Cappy Ricks with the telegram.
+
+"Well, I must admit Comrade Peck can sell lumber," he announced
+grudgingly. "He has secured five new accounts and here is an order for
+two more carloads of skunk spruce. I'll have to raise his salary about
+the first of the year.
+
+"My dear Skinner, why the devil wait until the first of the year? Your
+pernicious habit of deferring the inevitable parting with money has cost
+us the services of more than one good man. You know you have to raise
+Comrade Peck's salary sooner or later, so why not do it now and smile
+like a dentifrice advertisement while you're doing it? Comrade Peck will
+feel a whole lot better as a result, and who knows? He may conclude
+you're a human being, after all, and learn to love you?"
+
+"Very well, sir. I'll give him the same salary Andrews was getting
+before Peck took over his territory."
+
+"Skinner, you make it impossible for me to refrain from showing you
+who's boss around here. He's better than Andrews, isn't he?"
+
+"I think he is, sir."
+
+"Well then, for the love of a square deal, pay him more and pay it to
+him from the first day he went to work. Get out. You make me nervous. By
+the way, how is Andrews getting along in his Shanghai job?"
+
+"He's helping the cable company pay its income tax. Cables about three
+times a week on matters he should decide for himself. Matt Peasley is
+disgusted with him."
+
+"Ah! Well, I'm not disappointed. And I suppose Matt will be in here
+before long to remind me that I was the bright boy who picked Andrews
+for the job. Well, I did, but I call upon you to remember. Skinner, when
+I'm assailed, that Andrews' appointment was temporary."
+
+"Yes, sir, it was."
+
+"Well, I suppose I'll have to cast about for his successor and beat Matt
+out of his cheap 'I told you so' triumph. I think Comrade Peck has some
+of the earmarks of a good manager for our Shanghai office, but I'll have
+to test him a little further." He looked up humorously at Mr. Skinner.
+"Skinner, my dear boy," he continued, "I'm going to have him deliver a
+blue vase."
+
+Mr. Skinner's cold features actually glowed. "Well, tip the chief of
+police and the proprietor of the store off this time and save yourself
+some money," he warned Cappy. He walked to the window and looked down
+into California Street. He continued to smile.
+
+"Yes," Cappy continued dreamily, "I think I shall give him the
+thirty-third degree. You'll agree with me, Skinner, that if he delivers
+the blue vase he'll be worth ten thousand dollars a year as our Oriental
+manager?"
+
+"I'll say he will," Mr. Skinner replied slangily.
+
+"Very well, then. Arrange matters, Skinner, so that he will be available
+for me at one o'clock, a week from Sunday. I'll attend to the other
+details."
+
+Mr. Skinner nodded. He was still chuckling when he departed for his own
+office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+V
+
+
+A week from the succeeding Saturday, Mr. Skinner did not come down to
+the office, but a telephone message from his home informed the chief
+clerk that Mr. Skinner was at home and somewhat indisposed. The chief
+clerk was to advise Mr. Peck that he, Mr. Skinner, had contemplated
+having a conference with the latter that day, but that his indisposition
+would prevent this. Mr. Skinner hoped to be feeling much better
+tomorrow, and since he was very desirous of a conference with Mr. Peck
+before the latter should depart on his next selling pilgrimage, on
+Monday, would Mr. Peck be good enough to call at Mr. Skinner's house at
+one o'clock Sunday afternoon? Mr. Peck sent back word that he would be
+there at the appointed time and was rewarded with Mr. Skinner's thanks,
+via the chief clerk.
+
+Promptly at one o'clock the following day, Bill Peck reported at the
+general manager's house. He found Mr. Skinner in bed, reading the paper
+and looking surprisingly well. He trusted Mr. Skinner felt better than
+he looked. Mr. Skinner did, and at once entered into a discussion of the
+new customers, other prospects he particularly desired Mr. Peck to
+approach, new business to be investigated, and further details without
+end. And in the midst of this conference Cappy Riggs telephoned.
+
+A portable telephone stood on a commode beside Mr. Skinner's bed, so the
+latter answered immediately. Comrade Peck watched Skinner listen
+attentively for fully two minutes, then heard him say:
+
+"Mr. Ricks, I'm terribly sorry. I'd love to do this errand for you, but
+really I'm under the weather. In fact, I'm in bed as I speak to you now.
+But Mr. Peck is here with me and I'm sure he'll be very happy to attend
+to the matter for you."
+
+"By all means," Bill Peck hastened to assure the general manager. "Who
+does Mr. Ricks want killed and where will he have the body delivered?"
+
+"Hah-hah! Hah-Hah!" Mr. Skinner had a singularly annoying, mirthless
+laugh, as if he begrudged himself such an unheard-of indulgence. "Mr.
+Peck says," he informed Cappy, "that he'll be delighted to attend to the
+matter for you. He wants to know whom you want killed and where you wish
+the body delivered. Hah-hah! Hah! Peck, Mr. Ricks will speak to you."
+
+Bill Peck took the telephone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ricks."
+
+"Hello, old soldier. What are you doing this afternoon?"
+
+"Nothing--after I conclude my conference with Mr. Skinner. By the way,
+he has just given me a most handsome boost in salary, for which I am
+most appreciative. I feel, however, despite Mr. Skinner's graciousness,
+that you have put in a kind word for me with him, and I want to thank
+you--"
+
+"Tut, tut. Not a peep out of you, sir. Not a peep. You get nothing for
+nothing from Skinner or me. However, in view of the fact that you're
+feeling kindly toward me this afternoon, I wish you'd do a little errand
+for me. I can't send a boy and I hate to make a messenger out of
+you--er--ah--ahem! That is har-umph-h-h--!"
+
+"I have no false pride, Mr. Ricks."
+
+"Thank you, Bill. Glad you feel that way about it. Bill, I was prowling
+around town this forenoon, after church, and down in a store on Sutter
+Street, between Stockton and Powell Street, on the right hand side as
+you face Market Street, I saw a blue vase in a window. I have a weakness
+for vases, Bill. I'm a sharp on them, too. Now, this vase I saw isn't
+very expensive as vases go--in fact, I wouldn't buy it for my
+collection--but one of the finest and sweetest ladies of my acquaintance
+has the mate to that blue vase I saw in the window, and I know she'd be
+prouder than Punch if she had two of them--one for each side of her
+drawing room mantel, understand?
+
+"Now, I'm leaving from the Southern Pacific depot at eight o'clock
+tonight, bound for Santa Barbara to attend her wedding anniversary
+tomorrow night. I forget what anniversary it is, Bill, but I have been
+informed by my daughter that I'll be very much _de trop_ if I send her
+any present other than something in porcelain or China or
+Cloisonné--well, Bill, this crazy little blue vase just fills the order.
+Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You feel that it would be most graceful on your part if you
+could bring this little blue vase down to Santa Barbara with you
+tonight. You have to have it tonight, because if you wait until the
+store opens on Monday the vase will reach your hostess twenty-four hours
+after her anniversary party."
+
+"Exactly, Bill. Now, I've simply got to have that vase. If I had
+discovered it yesterday I wouldn't be asking you to get it for me today,
+Bill."
+
+"Please do not make any explanations or apologies, Mr. Ricks. You have
+described the vase--no you haven't. What sort of blue is it, how tall is
+it and what is, approximately, its greatest diameter? Does it set on a
+base, or does it not? Is it a solid blue, or is it figured?"
+
+It's a Cloisonné vase, Bill--sort of old Dutch blue, or Delft, with some
+Oriental funny-business on it. I couldn't describe it exactly, but it
+has some birds and flowers on it. It's about a foot tall and four inches
+in diameter and sets on a teak-wood base."
+
+"Very well, sir. You shall have it."
+
+"And you'll deliver it to me in stateroom A, car 7, aboard the train at
+Third and Townsend Streets, at seven fifty-five tonight?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Thank you, Bill. The expense will be trifling. Collect it from the
+cashier in the morning, and tell him to charge it to my account." And
+Cappy hung up.
+
+At once Mr. Skinner took up the thread of the interrupted conference,
+and it was not until three o'clock that Bill Peck left his house and
+proceeded downtown to locate Cappy Rick's blue vase.
+
+He proceeded to the block in Sutter Street between Stockton and Powell
+Streets, and although he walked patiently up one side of the street and
+down the other, not a single vase of any description showed in any shop
+window, nor could he find a single shop where such a vase as Cappy had
+described might, perchance, be displayed for sale.
+
+"I think the old boy has erred in the co-ordinates of the target," Bill
+Peck concluded, "or else I misunderstood him. I'll telephone his house
+and ask him to repeat them."
+
+He did, but nobody was at home except a Swedish maid, and all she knew
+was that Mr. Ricks was out and the hour of his return was unknown. So
+Mr. Peck went back to Sutter Street and scoured once more every shop
+window in the block. Then he scouted two blocks above Powell and two
+blocks below Stockton. Still the blue vase remained invisible.
+
+So he transferred his search to a corresponding area on Bush Street, and
+when that failed, he went painstakingly over four blocks of Post Street.
+He was still without results when he moved one block further west and
+one further south and discovered the blue vase in a huge plate-glass
+window of a shop on Geary Street near Grant Avenue. He surveyed it
+critically and was convinced that it was the object he sought.
+
+He tried the door, but it was locked, as he had anticipated it would be.
+So he kicked the door and raised an infernal racket, hoping against hope
+that the noise might bring a watchman from the rear of the building. In
+vain. He backed out to the edge of the sidewalk and read the sign over
+the door:
+
+    B. Cohen's Art Shop
+
+This was a start, so Mr. Peck limped over to the Palace Hotel and
+procured a telephone directory. By actual count there were nineteen B.
+Cohens scattered throughout the city, so before commencing to call the
+nineteen, Bill Peck borrowed the city directory from the hotel clerk and
+scanned it for the particular B. Cohen who owned the art shop. His
+search availed him nothing. B. Cohen was listed as an art dealer at the
+address where the blue vase reposed in the show window. That was all.
+
+"I suppose he's a commuter," Mr. Peck concluded, and at once proceeded
+to procure directories of the adjacent cities of Berkeley, Oakland and
+Alameda. They were not available, so in despair he changed a dollar into
+five cent pieces, sought a telephone booth and commenced calling up all
+the B. Cohens in San Francisco. Of the nineteen, four did not answer,
+three were temporarily disconnected, six replied in Yiddish, five were
+not the B. Cohen he sought, and one swore he was Irish and that his name
+was spelled Cohan and pronounced with an accent on both syllables.
+
+The B. Cohens resident in Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda, San Rafael,
+Sausalito, Mill Valley, San Mateo, Redwood City and Palo Alto were next
+telephoned to, and when this long and expensive task was done,
+Ex-Private Bill Peck emerged from the telephone booth wringing wet with
+perspiration and as irritable as a clucking hen. Once outside the hotel
+he raised his haggard face to heaven and dumbly queried of the Almighty
+what He meant by saving him from quick death on the field of honor only
+to condemn him to be talked to death by B. Cohens in civil life.
+
+It was now six o'clock. Suddenly Peck had an inspiration. Was the name
+spelled Cohen, Cohan, Cohn, Kohn or Coen?
+
+"If I have to take a Jewish census again tonight I'll die," he told
+himself desperately, and went back to the art shop.
+
+The sign read: B. COHN'S ART SHOP.
+
+"I wish I knew a bootlegger's joint," poor Peck complained. "I'm pretty
+far gone and a little wood alcohol couldn't hurt me much now. Why, I
+could have sworn that name was spelled with an E. It seems to me I noted
+that particularly."
+
+He went back to the hotel telephone booth and commenced calling up all
+the B. Cohns in town. There were eight of them and six of them were out,
+one was maudlin with liquor and the other was very deaf and shouted
+unintelligibly.
+
+"Peace hath its barbarities no less than war," Mr. Peck sighed. He
+changed a twenty-dollar bill into nickles, dimes and quarters, returned
+to the hot, ill-smelling telephone booth and proceeded to lay down a
+barrage of telephone calls to the B. Cohns of all towns of any
+importance contiguous to San Francisco Bay. And he was lucky. On the
+sixth call he located the particular B. Cohn in San Rafael, only to be
+informed by Mr. Cohn's cook that Mr. Cohn was dining at the home of a
+Mr. Simons in Mill Valley.
+
+There were three Mr. Simons in Mill Valley, and Peck called them all
+before connecting with the right one. Yes, Mr. B. Cohn was there. Who
+wished to speak to him? Mr. Heck? Oh, Mr. Lake! A silence. Then--Mr.
+Cohn says he doesn't know any Mr. Lake and wants to know the nature of
+your business. He is dining and doesn't like to be disturbed unless the
+matter is of grave importance."
+
+"Tell him Mr. Peck wishes to speak to him on a matter of very great
+importance," wailed the ex-private.
+
+"Mr. Metz? Mr. Ben Metz?
+
+"No, no, no. Peck--p-e-c-k."
+
+"D-e-c-k?"
+
+"No, P."
+
+"C?"
+
+"P."
+
+"Oh, yes, E. E-what?"
+
+"C-K--"
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Eckstein."
+
+"Call Cohn to the 'phone or I'll go over there on the next boat and kill
+you, you damned idiot," shrieked Peck. "Tell him his store is on fire."
+
+That message was evidently delivered for almost instantly Mr. B. Cohn
+was puffing and spluttering into the phone.
+
+"Iss dot der fire marshal?" he managed to articulate.
+
+"Listen, Mr. Cohn. Your store is not on fire, but I had to say so in
+order to get you to the telephone. I am Mr. Peck, a total stranger to
+you. You have a blue vase in your shop window on Geary Street in San
+Francisco. I want to buy it and I want to buy it before seven forty-five
+tonight. I want you to come across the bay and open the store and sell
+me that vase."
+
+"Such a business! Vot you think I am? Crazy?"
+
+"No, Mr. Cohn, I do not. I'm the only crazy man talking. I'm crazy for
+that vase and I've got to have it right away."
+
+"You know vot dot vase costs?" Mr. B. Cohn's voice dripped syrup.
+
+"No, and I don't give a hoot what it costs. I want what I want when I
+want it. Do I get it?"
+
+"Ve-ell, lemme see. Vot time iss it?" A silence while B. Cohn evidently
+looked at his watch. "It iss now a quarter of seven, Mr. Eckstein, und
+der nexd drain from Mill Valley don't leaf until eight o'clock. Dot vill
+get me to San Francisco at eight-fifty--und I am dining mit friends und
+haf just finished my soup."
+
+"To hell with your soup. I want that blue vase."
+
+"Vell, I tell you, Mr. Eckstein, if you got to have it, call up my head
+salesman, Herman Joost, in der Chilton Apardments--Prospect
+three--two--four--nine, und tell him I said he should come down right
+avay qvick und sell you dot blue vase. Goodbye, Mr. Eckstein."
+
+And B. Cohn hung up.
+
+Instantly Peck called Prospect 3249 and asked for Herman Joost. Mr.
+Joost's mother answered. She was desolated because Herman was not at
+home, but vouchsafed the information that he was dining at the country
+club. Which country club? She did not know. So Peck procured from the
+hotel clerk a list of the country clubs in and around San Francisco and
+started calling them up. At eight o'clock he was still being informed
+that Mr. Juice was not a member, that Mr. Luce wasn't in, that Mr. Coos
+had been dead three months and that Mr. Boos had played but eight holes
+when he received a telegram calling him back to New York. At the other
+clubs Mr. Joust was unknown.
+
+"Licked," murmured Bill Peck, "but never let it be said that I didn't go
+down fighting. I'm going to heave a brick through that show window, grab
+the vase and run with it."
+
+He engaged a taxicab and instructed the driver to wait for him at the
+corner of Geary and Stockton Streets. Also, he borrowed from the
+chauffeur a ball peen hammer. When he reached the art shop of B. Cohn,
+however, a policeman was standing in the doorway, violating the general
+orders of a policeman on duty by surreptitiously smoking a cigar.
+
+"He'll nab me if I crack that window," the desperate Peck decided, and
+continued on down the street, crossed to the other side and came back.
+It was now dark and over the art shop B. Cohn's name burned in small
+red, white and blue electric lights.
+
+And lo, it was spelled B. Cohen!
+
+Ex-private William E. Peck sat down on a fire hydrant and cursed with
+rage. His weak leg hurt him, too, and for some damnable reason, the
+stump of his left arm developed the feeling that his missing hand was
+itchy.
+
+"The world is filled with idiots," he raved furiously. "I'm tired and
+I'm hungry. I skipped luncheon and I've been too busy to think of
+dinner."
+
+He walked back to his taxicab and returned to the hotel where, hope
+springing eternal in his breast, he called Prospect 3249 again and
+discovered that the missing Herman Joost had returned to the bosom of
+his family. To him the frantic Peck delivered the message of B. Cohn,
+whereupon the cautious Herman Joost replied that he would confirm the
+authenticity of the message by telephoning to Mr. Cohn at Mr. Simon's
+home in Mill Valley. If Mr. B. Cohn or Cohen confirmed Mr. Kek's story
+he, the said Herman Joost, would be at the store sometime before nine
+o'clock, and if Mr. Kek cared to, he might await him there.
+
+Mr. Kek said he would be delighted to wait for him there.
+
+At nine-fifteen Herman Joost appeared on the scene. On his way down the
+street he had taken the precaution to pick up a policeman and bring him
+along with him. The lights were switched on in the store and Mr. Joost
+lovingly abstracted the blue vase from the window.
+
+"What's the cursed thing worth?" Peck demanded.
+
+"Two thousand dollars," Mr. Joost replied without so much as the quiver
+of an eyelash. "Cash," he added, apparently as an afterthought.
+
+The exhausted Peck leaned against the sturdy guardian of the law and
+sighed. This was the final straw. He had about ten dollars in his
+possession.
+
+"You refuse, absolutely, to accept my check?" he quavered.
+
+"I don't know you, Mr. Peck," Herman Joost replied simply.
+
+"Where's your telephone?"
+
+Mr. Joost led Peck to the telephone and the latter called up Mr.
+Skinner.
+
+"Mr. Skinner," he announced, "this is all that is mortal of Bill Peck
+speaking. I've got the store open and for two thousand dollars--cash--I
+can buy the blue vase Mr. Ricks has set his heart upon."
+
+"Oh, Peck, dear fellow," Mr. Skinner purred sympathetically. "Have you
+been all this time on that errand?"
+
+"I have. And I'm going to stick on the job until I deliver the goods.
+For God's sake let me have two thousand dollars and bring it down to me
+at B. Cohen's Art Shop on Geary Street near Grant Avenue. I'm too
+utterly exhausted to go up after it."
+
+"My dear Mr. Peck, I haven't two thousand dollars in my house. That is
+too great a sum of money to keep on hand."
+
+"Well, then, come downtown, open up the office safe and get the money
+for me."
+
+"Time lock on the office safe, Peck. Impossible."
+
+"Well then, come downtown and identify me at hotels and cafés and
+restaurants so I can cash my own check."
+
+"Is your check good, Mr. Peck?"
+
+The flood of invective which had been accumulating in Mr. Peck's system
+all the afternoon now broke its bounds. He screamed at Mr. Skinner a
+blasphemous invitation to betake himself to the lower regions.
+
+"Tomorrow morning," he promised hoarsely, "I'll beat you to death with
+the stump of my left arm, you miserable, cold-blooded, lazy, shiftless
+slacker."
+
+He called up Cappy Ricks' residence next, and asked for Captain Matt
+Peasley, who, he knew, made his home with his father-in-law. Matt
+Peasley came to the telephone and listened sympathetically to Peck's
+tale of woe.
+
+"Peck, that's the worst outrage I ever heard of," he declared. "The idea
+of setting you such a task. You take my advice and forget the blue
+vase."
+
+"I can't," Peck panted. "Mr. Ricks will feel mighty chagrined if I fail
+to get the vase to him. I wouldn't disappoint him for my right arm. He's
+been a dead game sport with me, Captain Peasley."
+
+"But it's too late to get the vase to him, Peck. He left the city at
+eight o'clock and it is now almost half past nine."
+
+"I know, but if I can secure legal possession of the vase I'll get it to
+him before he leaves the train at Santa Barbara at six o'clock tomorrow
+morning."
+
+"How?"
+
+"There's a flying school out at the Marina and one of the pilots there
+is a friend of mine. He'll fly to Santa Barbara with me and the vase."
+
+"You're crazy."
+
+"I know it. Please lend me two thousand dollars."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To pay for the vase."
+
+"Now I know you're crazy--or drunk. Why if Cappy Ricks ever forgot
+himself to the extent of paying two hundred dollars for a vase he'd
+bleed to death in an hour."
+
+"Won't you let me have two thousand dollars, Captain Peasley?"
+
+"I will not, Peck, old son. Go home and to bed and forget it."
+
+"Please. You can cash your checks. You're known so much better than I,
+and it's Sunday night--"
+
+"And it's a fine way to keep holy the Sabbath day," Matt Peasley
+retorted and hung up.
+
+"Well," Herman Joost queried, "do we stay here all night?"
+
+Bill Peck bowed his head. "Look here," he demanded suddenly, "do you
+know a good diamond when you see it?"
+
+"I do," Herman Joost replied.
+
+"Will you wait here until I go to my hotel and get one?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+Bill Peck limped painfully away. Forty minutes later he returned with a
+platinum ring set with diamonds and sapphires.
+
+"What are they worth?" he demanded.
+
+Herman Joost looked the ring over lovingly and appraised it
+conservatively at twenty-five hundred dollars.
+
+"Take it as security for the payment of my check," Peck pleaded. "Give
+me a receipt for it and after my check has gone through clearing I'll
+come back and get the ring."
+
+Fifteen minutes later, with the blue vase packed in excelsior and
+reposing in a stout cardboard box, Bill Peck entered a restaurant and
+ordered dinner. When he had dined he engaged a taxi and was driven to
+the flying field at the Marina. From the night watchman he ascertained
+the address of his pilot friend and at midnight, with his friend at the
+wheel, Bill Peck and his blue vase soared up into the moonlight and
+headed south.
+
+An hour and a half later they landed in a stubble field in the Salinas
+Valley and, bidding his friend good-bye, Bill Peck trudged across to the
+railroad track and sat down. When the train bearing Cappy Ricks came
+roaring down the valley, Peck twisted a Sunday paper with which he had
+provided himself, into an improvised torch, which he lighted. Standing
+between the rails he swung the flaming paper frantically.
+
+The train slid to a halt, a brakeman opened a vestibule door, and Bill
+Peck stepped wearily aboard.
+
+"What do you mean by flagging this train?" the brakeman demanded
+angrily, as he signaled the engineer to proceed. "Got a ticket?"
+
+"No, but I've got the money to pay my way. And I flagged this train
+because I wanted to change my method of travel. I'm looking for a man in
+stateroom A of car 7, and if you try to block me there'll be murder
+done."
+
+"That's right. Take advantage of your half-portion arm and abuse me,"
+the brakeman retorted bitterly. "Are you looking for that little old man
+with the Henry Clay collar and the white mutton-chop whiskers?"
+
+"I certainly am."
+
+"Well, he was looking for you just before we left San Francisco. He
+asked me if I had seen a one-armed man with a box under his good arm.
+I'll lead you to him."
+
+A prolonged ringing at Cappy's stateroom door brought the old gentleman
+to the entrance in his nightshirt.
+
+"Very sorry to have to disturb you, Mr. Ricks," said Bill Peck, "but the
+fact is there were so many Cohens and Cohns and Cohans, and it was such
+a job to dig up two thousand dollars, that I failed to connect with you
+at seven forty-five last night, as per orders. It was absolutely
+impossible for me to accomplish the task within the time limit set, but
+I was resolved that you should not be disappointed. Here is the vase.
+The shop wasn't within four blocks of where you thought it was, sir, but
+I'm sure I found the right vase. It ought to be. It cost enough and was
+hard enough to get, so it should be precious enough to form a gift for
+any friend of yours."
+
+Cappy Ricks stared at Bill Peck as if the latter were a wraith.
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" he murmured. "By the Holy Pink-toed
+Prophet! We changed the sign on you and we stacked the Cohens on you and
+we set a policeman to guard the shop to keep you from breaking the
+window, and we made you dig up two thousand dollars on Sunday night in a
+town where you are practically unknown, and while you missed the train
+at eight o'clock, you overtake it at two o'clock in the morning and
+deliver the blue vase. Come in and rest your poor old game leg, Bill.
+Brake-man, I'm much obliged to you."
+
+Bill Peck entered and slumped wearily down on the settee. "So it was a
+plant?" he cracked, and his voice trembled with rage. "Well, sir, you're
+an old man and you've been good to me, so I do not begrudge you your
+little joke, but Mr. Ricks, I can't stand things like I used to. My leg
+hurts and my stump hurts and my heart hurts----"
+
+He paused, choking, and the tears of impotent rage filled his eyes. "You
+shouldn't treat me that way, sir," he complained presently. "I've been
+trained not to question orders, even when they seem utterly foolish to
+me; I've been trained to obey them--on time, if possible, but if
+impossible, to obey them anyhow. I've been taught loyalty to my
+chief--and I'm sorry my chief found it necessary to make a buffoon of
+me. I haven't had a very good time the past three years and--and--you
+can--pa-pa-pass your skunk spruce and larch rustic and short odd length
+stock to some slacker like Skinner--and you'd better--arrange--to
+replace--Skinner, because he's young--enough to--take a beating--and I'm
+going to--give it to him--and it'll be a hospital--job--sir--"
+
+Cappy Ricks ruffled Bill Peck's aching head with a paternal hand.
+
+"Bill, old boy, it was cruel--damnably cruel, but I had a big job for
+you and I had to find out a lot of things about you before I entrusted
+you with that job. So I arranged to give you the Degree of the Blue
+Vase, which is the supreme test of a go-getter. You thought you carried
+into this stateroom a two thousand dollar vase, but between ourselves,
+what you really carried in was a ten thousand dollar job as our Shanghai
+manager."
+
+"Wha--what!"
+
+"Every time I have to pick out a permanent holder of a job worth ten
+thousand dollars, or more, I give the candidate the Degree of the Blue
+Vase," Cappy explained. "I've had two men out of a field of fifteen
+deliver the vase, Bill."
+
+Bill Peck had forgotten his rage, but the tears of his recent fury still
+glistened in his bold blue eyes. "Thank you, sir. I forgive you--and
+I'll make good in Shanghai."
+
+"I know you will, Bill. Now, tell me, son, weren't you tempted to quit
+when you discovered the almost insuperable obstacles I'd placed in your
+way?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I was. I wanted to commit suicide before I'd finished
+telephoning all the C-o-h-e-n-s in the world. And when I started on the
+C-o-h-n-s--well, it's this way, sir. I just couldn't quit because that
+would have been disloyal to a man I once knew."
+
+"Who was he?" Cappy demanded, and there was awe in his voice.
+
+"He was my brigadier, and he had a brigade motto: It shall be done. When
+the divisional commander called him up and told him to move forward with
+his brigade and occupy certain territory, our brigadier would say: 'Very
+well, sir. It shall be done.' If any officer in his brigade showed signs
+of flunking his job because it appeared impossible, the brigadier would
+just look at him once--and then that officer would remember the motto
+and go and do his job or die trying.
+
+"In the army, sir, the _esprit de corps_ doesn't bubble up from the
+bottom. It filters down from the top. An organization is what its
+commanding officer is--neither better nor worse. In my company, when the
+top sergeant handed out a week of kitchen police to a buck, that buck
+was out of luck if he couldn't muster a grin and say: 'All right,
+sergeant. It shall be done.'
+
+"The brigadier sent for me once and ordered me to go out and get a
+certain German sniper. I'd been pretty lucky--some days I got enough for
+a mess--and he'd heard of me. He opened a map and said to me: 'Here's
+about where he holes up. Go get him, Private Peck.' Well, Mr. Ricks, I
+snapped into it and gave him a rifle salute, and said, 'Sir, it shall be
+done'--and I'll never forget the look that man gave me. He came down to
+the field hospital to see me after I'd walked into one of those Austrian
+88's. I knew my left wing was a total loss and I suspected my left leg
+was about to leave me, and I was downhearted and wanted to die. He came
+and bucked me up. He said: 'Why, Private Peck, you aren't half dead. In
+civil life you're going to be worth half a dozen live ones--aren't you?'
+But I was pretty far gone and I told him I didn't believe it, so he gave
+me a hard look and said: 'Private Peck will do his utmost to recover and
+as a starter he will smile.' Of course, putting it in the form of an
+order, I had to give him the usual reply, so I grinned and said: 'Sir,
+it shall be done.' He was quite a man, sir, and his brigade had a
+soul--his soul----"
+
+"I see, Bill. And his soul goes marching on, eh? Who was he, Bill?"
+
+Bill Peck named his idol.
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" There was awe in Cappy Ricks' voice,
+there was reverence in his faded old eyes. "Son," he continued gently,
+"twenty-five years ago your brigadier was a candidate for an important job
+in my employ--and I gave him the Degree of the Blue Vase. He couldn't
+get the vase legitimately, so he threw a cobble-stone through the
+window, grabbed the vase and ran a mile and a half before the police
+captured him. Cost me a lot of money to square the case and keep it
+quiet. But he was too good, Bill, and I couldn't stand in his way; I let
+him go forward to his destiny. But tell me, Bill. How did you get the
+two thousand dollars to pay for this vase?"
+
+"Once," said ex-Private Peck thoughtfully, "the brigadier and I were
+first at a dug-out entrance. It was a headquarters dug-out and they
+wouldn't surrender, so I bombed them and then we went down. I found a
+finger with a ring on it--and the brigadier said if I didn't take the
+ring somebody else would. I left that ring as security for my check."
+
+"But how could you have the courage to let me in for a two thousand
+dollar vase? Didn't you realize that the price was absurd and that I
+might repudiate the transaction?"
+
+"Certainly not. You are responsible for the acts of your servant. You
+are a true blue sport and would never repudiate my action. You told me
+what to do, but you did not insult my intelligence by telling me how to
+do it. When my late brigadier sent me after the German sniper he didn't
+take into consideration the probability that the sniper might get me. He
+told me to get the sniper. It was my business to see to it that I
+accomplished my mission and carried my objective, which, of course, I
+could not have done if I had permitted the German to get me."
+
+"I see, Bill. Well, give that blue vase to the porter in the morning. I
+paid fifteen cents for it in a five, ten and fifteen cent store.
+Meanwhile, hop into that upper berth and help yourself to a well-earned
+rest."
+
+"But aren't you going to a wedding anniversary at Santa Barbara, Mr.
+Ricks?"
+
+"I am not. Bill, I discovered a long time ago that it's a good idea for
+me to get out of town and play golf as often as I can. Besides which,
+prudence dictates that I remain away from the office for a week after
+the seeker of blue vases fails to deliver the goods and--by the way,
+Bill, what sort of a game do you play? Oh, forgive me, Bill. I forgot
+about your left arm."
+
+"Say, look here, sir," Bill Peck retorted, "I'm big enough and ugly
+enough to play one-handed golf."
+
+"But, have you ever tried it?"
+
+"No, sir," Bill Peck replied seriously, "but--it shall be done!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
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+Title: The Go-Getter
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+Author: Peter B. Kyne
+
+Release Date: May 4, 2004 [EBook #12257]
+[Last updated: May 25, 2011]
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+
+<h1>The Go-Getter</h1>
+<h2>A Story That Tells You How to be One</h2>
+<h3>By Peter B. Kyne</h3>
+<hr />
+<h2>DEDICATION</h2>
+<blockquote>
+<p>THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAD CHIEF,
+BRIGADIER-GENERAL LEROY S. LYON, SOMETIME COMMANDER OF THE 65TH
+FIELD ARTILLERY BRIGADE, 40TH DIVISION, UNITED STATES ARMY.</p>
+<p>HE PRACTICED AND PREACHED A RELIGION OF LOYALTY TO THE COUNTRY
+AND THE APPOINTED TASK, WHATEVER IT MIGHT BE.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<h2>I</h2>
+<p>Mr. Alden P. Ricks, known in Pacific Coast wholesale lumber and
+shipping circles as Cappy Ricks, had more troubles than a hen with
+ducklings. He remarked as much to Mr. Skinner, president and
+general manager of the Ricks Logging &amp; Lumbering Company, the
+corporate entity which represented Cappy's vast lumber interests;
+and he fairly barked the information at Captain Matt Peasley, his
+son-in-law and also president and manager of the Blue Star
+Navigation Company, another corporate entity which represented the
+Ricks interest in the American mercantile marine.</p>
+<p>Mr. Skinner received this information in silence. He was not
+related to Cappy Ricks. But Matt Peasley sat down, crossed his legs
+and matched glares with his mercurial father-in-law.</p>
+<p>"<i>You</i> have troubles!" he jeered, with emphasis on the
+pronoun. "Have you got a misery in your back, or is Herbert Hoover
+the wrong man for Secretary of Commerce?"</p>
+<p>"Stow your sarcasm, young feller," Cappy shrilled. "You know
+dad-blamed well it isn't a question of health or politics. It's the
+fact that in my old age I find myself totally surrounded by the
+choicest aggregation of mental duds since Ajax defied the
+lightning."</p>
+<p>"Meaning whom?"</p>
+<p>"You and Skinner."</p>
+<p>"Why, what have we done?"</p>
+<p>"You argued me into taking on the management of twenty-five of
+those infernal Shipping Board freighters, and no sooner do we have
+them allocated to us than a near panic hits the country, freight
+rates go to glory, marine engineers go on strike and every infernal
+young whelp we send out to take charge of one of our offices in the
+Orient promptly gets the swelled head and thinks he's divinely
+ordained to drink up all the synthetic Scotch whiskey manufactured
+in Japan for the benefit of thirsty Americans. In my old age you
+two have forced us into the position of having to fire folks by
+cable. Why? Because we're breaking into a game that can't be played
+on the home grounds. A lot of our business is so far away we can't
+control it."</p>
+<p>Matt Peasley leveled an accusing finger at Cappy Ricks. "We
+never argued you into taking over the management of those Shipping
+Board boats. We argued me into it. I'm the goat. You have nothing
+to do with it. You retired ten years ago. All the troubles in the
+marine end of this shop belong on my capable shoulders, old
+settler."</p>
+<p>"Theoretically--yes. Actually--no. I hope you do not expect me
+to abandon mental as well as physical effort. Great Wampus Cats! Am
+I to be denied a sentimental interest in matters where I have a
+controlling financial interest? I admit you two boys are running my
+affairs and ordinarily you run them rather well, but--but--ahem!
+Harumph-h-h! What's the matter with you, Matt? And you, also,
+Skinner? If Matt makes a mistake, it's your job to remind him of it
+before the results manifest themselves, is it not? And vice versa.
+Have you two boobs lost your ability to judge men or did you ever
+have such ability?"</p>
+<p>"You're referring to Henderson, of the Shanghai office, I dare
+say," Mr. Skinner cut in.</p>
+<p>"I am, Skinner. And I'm here to remind you that if we'd stuck to
+our own game, which is coast-wise shipping, and had left the
+trans-Pacific field with its general cargoes to others, we wouldn't
+have any Shanghai office at this moment and we would not be
+pestered by the Hendersons of this world."</p>
+<p>"He's the best lumber salesman we've ever had," Mr. Skinner
+defended. "I had every hope that he would send us orders for many a
+cargo for Asiatic delivery."</p>
+<p>"And he had gone through every job in this office, from office
+boy to sales manager in the lumber department and from freight
+clerk to passenger agent in the navigation company," Matt Peasley
+supplemented.</p>
+<p>"I admit all of that. But did you consult me when you decided to
+send him out to China on his own?"</p>
+<p>"Of course not. I'm boss of the Blue Star Navigation Company, am
+I not? The man was in charge of the Shanghai office before you ever
+opened your mouth to discharge your cargo of free advice."</p>
+<p>"I told you then that Henderson wouldn't make good, didn't
+I?"</p>
+<p>"You did."</p>
+<p>"And now I have an opportunity to tell you the little tale you
+didn't give me an opportunity to tell you before you sent him out.
+Henderson <i>was</i> a good man--a crackerjack man--when he had a
+better man over him. But--I've been twenty years reducing a
+tendency on the part of that fellow's head to bust his hat-band.
+And now he's gone south with a hundred and thirty thousand taels of
+our Shanghai bank account."</p>
+<p>"Permit me to remind you, Mr. Ricks," Mr. Skinner cut in coldly,
+"that he was bonded to the extent of a quarter of a million
+dollars."</p>
+<p>"Not a peep out of you, Skinner. Not a peep. Permit me to remind
+<i>you</i> that I'm the little genius who placed that insurance
+unknown to you and Matt. And I recall now that I was reminded by
+you, Matthew, my son, that I had retired ten years ago and please,
+would I quit interfering in the internal administration of your
+office."</p>
+<p>"Well, I must admit your far-sightedness in that instance will
+keep the Shanghai office out of the red ink this year," Matt
+Peasley replied. "However, we face this situation, Cappy. Henderson
+has drunk and gambled and signed chits in excess of his salary. He
+hasn't attended to business and he's capped his inefficiency by
+absconding with our bank account. We couldn't foresee that. When we
+send a man out to the Orient to be our manager there, we have to
+trust him all the way or not at all. So there is no use weeping
+over spilled milk, Cappy. Our job is to select a successor to
+Henderson and send him out to Shanghai on the next boat."</p>
+<p>"Oh, very well, Matt," Cappy replied magnanimously, "I'll not
+rub it into you. I suppose I'm far from generous, bawling you out
+like this. Perhaps, when you're my age and have a lot of mental and
+moral cripples nip you and draw blood as often as they've drawn it
+on me you'll be a better judge than I of men worthy of the weight
+of responsibility. Skinner, have you got a candidate for this
+job?"</p>
+<p>"I regret to say, sir, I have not. All of the men in my
+department are quite young--too young for the responsibility."</p>
+<p>"What do you mean--young?" Cappy blazed.</p>
+<p>"Well, the only man I would consider for the job is Andrews and
+he is too young--about thirty, I should say."</p>
+<p>"About thirty, eh? Strikes me you were about twenty-eight when I
+threw ten thousand a year at you in actual cash, and a couple of
+million dollars' worth of responsibility."</p>
+<p>"Yes sir, but then Andrews has never been tested----"</p>
+<p>"Skinner," Cappy interrupted in his most awful voice, "it's a
+constant source of amazement to me why I refrain from firing you.
+You say Andrews has never been tested. Why hasn't he been tested?
+Why are we maintaining untested material in this shop, anyhow? Eh?
+Answer me that. Tut, tut, tut! Not a peep out of you, sir. If you
+had done your Christian duty, you would have taken a year's
+vacation when lumber was selling itself in 1919 and 1920, and you
+would have left Andrews sitting in at your desk to see the sort of
+stuff he's made of."</p>
+<p>"It's a mighty lucky thing I didn't go away for a year," Skinner
+protested respectfully, "because the market broke--like that--and
+if you don't think we have to hustle to sell sufficient lumber to
+keep our own ships busy freighting it--"</p>
+<p>"Skinner, how dare you contradict me? How old was Matt Peasley
+when I turned over the Blue Star Navigation Company to him, lock,
+stock and barrel? Why, he wasn't twenty-six years old. Skinner,
+you're a dodo! The killjoys like you who have straddled the neck of
+industry and throttled it with absurd theories that a man's back
+must be bent like an ox-bow and his locks snowy white before he can
+be entrusted with responsibility and a living wage, have caused all
+of our wars and strikes. This is a young man's world, Skinner, and
+don't you ever forget it. The go-getters of this world are under
+thirty years of age. Matt," he concluded, turning to his
+son-in-law, "what do you think of Andrews for that Shanghai
+job?"</p>
+<p>"I think he'll do."</p>
+<p>"Why do you think he'll do?"</p>
+<p>"Because he ought to do. He's been with us long enough to have
+acquired sufficient experience to enable him--"</p>
+<p>"Has he acquired the courage to tackle the job, Matt?" Cappy
+interrupted. "That's more important than this doggoned experience
+you and Skinner prate so much about."</p>
+<p>"I know nothing of his courage. I assume that he has force and
+initiative. I know he has a pleasing personality."</p>
+<p>"Well, before we send him out we ought to know whether or no he
+has force and initiative."</p>
+<p>"Then," quoth Matt Peasley, rising, "I wash my hands of the job
+of selecting Henderson's successor. You've butted in, so I suggest
+you name the lucky man."</p>
+<p>"Yes, indeed," Skinner agreed. "I'm sure it's quite beyond my
+poor abilities to uncover Andrews' force and initiative on such
+notice. He does possess sufficient force and initiative for his
+present job, but--"</p>
+<p>"But will he possess force and initiative when he has to make a
+quick decision six thousand miles from expert advice, and stand or
+fall by that decision? That's what we want to know, Skinner."</p>
+<p>"I suggest, sir," Mr. Skinner replied with chill politeness,
+"that you conduct the examination."</p>
+<p>"I accept the nomination, Skinner. By the Holy Pink-toed
+Prophet! The next man we send out to that Shanghai office is going
+to be a go-getter. We've had three managers go rotten on us and
+that's three too many."</p>
+<p>And without further ado, Cappy swung his aged legs up on to his
+desk and slid down in his swivel chair until he rested on his
+spine. His head sank on his breast and he closed his eyes.</p>
+<p>"He's framing the examination for Andrews," Matt Peasley
+whispered, as he and Skinner made their exits.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>II</h2>
+<p>The President emeritus of the Ricks' interests was not destined
+to uninterrupted cogitation, however. Within ten minutes his
+private exchange operator called him to the telephone.</p>
+<p>"What is it?" Cappy yelled into the transmitter.</p>
+<p>"There is a young man in the general office. His name is Mr.
+William E. Peck and he desires to see you personally."</p>
+<p>Cappy sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Have him shown in."</p>
+<p>Almost immediately the office boy ushered Mr. Peck into Cappy's
+presence. The moment he was fairly inside the door the visitor
+halted, came easily and naturally to "attention" and bowed
+respectfully, while the cool glance of his keen blue eyes held
+steadily the autocrat of the Blue Star Navigation Company.</p>
+<p>"Mr. Ricks, Peck is my name, sir--William E. Peck. Thank you,
+sir, for acceding to my request for an interview."</p>
+<p>"Ahem! Hum-m-m!" Cappy looked belligerent. "Sit down, Mr.
+Peck."</p>
+<p>Mr. Peck sat down, but as he crossed to the chair beside Cappy's
+desk, the old gentleman noticed that his visitor walked with a
+slight limp, and that his left forearm had been amputated half way
+to the elbow. To the observant Cappy, the American Legion button in
+Mr. Peck's lapel told the story.</p>
+<p>"Well, Mr. Peck," he queried gently, "what can I do for
+you?"</p>
+<p>"I've called for my job," the veteran replied briefly.</p>
+<p>"By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!" Cappy ejaculated, "you say that
+like a man who doesn't expect to be refused."</p>
+<p>"Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal."</p>
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+<p>Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features
+rippled into the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen.
+"I am a salesman, Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to
+be true because I have demonstrated, over a period of five years,
+that I can sell my share of anything that has a hockable value. I
+have always found, however, that before proceeding to sell goods I
+had to sell the manufacturer of those goods something,
+to-wit--myself! I am about to sell myself to you."</p>
+<p>"Son," said Cappy smilingly, "you win. You've sold me already.
+When did they sell you a membership in the military forces of the
+United States of America?"</p>
+<p>"On the morning of April 7th, 1917, sir."</p>
+<p>"That clinches our sale. I soldiered with the Knights of
+Columbus at Camp Kearny myself, but when they refused to let me go
+abroad with my division my heart was broken, so I went over the
+hill."</p>
+<p>That little touch of the language of the line appeared to warm
+Mr. Peck's heart considerably, establishing at once a free masonry
+between them.</p>
+<p>"I was with the Portland Lumber Company, selling lumber in the
+Middle West before the war," he explained. "Uncle Sam gave me my
+sheepskin at Letter-man General Hospital last week, with half
+disability on my ten thousand dollars' worth of government
+insurance. Whittling my wing was a mere trifle, but my broken leg
+was a long time mending, and now it's shorter than it really ought
+to be. And I developed pneumonia with influenza and they found some
+T.B. indications after that. I've been at the government
+tuberculosis hospital at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, for a year.
+However, what's left of me is certified to be sound. I've got five
+inches chest expansion and I feel fine."</p>
+<p>"Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my
+right arm. I can think and I can write, and even if one of my
+wheels is flat, I can hike longer and faster after an order than
+most. Got a job for me, Mr. Ricks?"</p>
+<p>"No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten
+years ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social
+frivolity--a place to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the
+street. Our Mr. Skinner is the chap you should see."</p>
+<p>"I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied,
+"but he wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the
+conclusion that I was attempting to trade him my empty sleeve. He
+informed me that there wasn't sufficient business to keep his
+present staff of salesmen busy, so then I told him I'd take
+anything, from stenographer up. I'm the champion one-handed typist
+of the United States Army. I can tally lumber and bill it. I can
+keep books and answer the telephone."</p>
+<p>"No encouragement, eh?"</p>
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+<p>"Well, now, son," Cappy informed his cheerful visitor
+confidentially, "you take my tip and see my son-in-law, Captain
+Peasley. He's high, low and jack-in-the-game in the shipping end of
+our business."</p>
+<p>"I have also interviewed Captain Peasley. He was very kind. He
+said he felt that he owed me a job, but business is so bad he
+couldn't make a place for me. He told me he is now carrying a dozen
+ex-service men merely because he hasn't the heart to let them go. I
+believe him."</p>
+<p>"Well, my dear boy--my dear young friend! Why do you come to
+me?"</p>
+<p>"Because," Mr. Peck replied smilingly, "I want you to go over
+their heads and give me a job. I don't care a hoot what it is,
+provided I can do it. If I can do it, I'll do it better than it was
+ever done before, and if I can't do that I'll quit to save you the
+embarrassment of firing me. I'm not an object of charity, but I'm
+scarcely the man I used to be and I'm four years behind the
+procession and have to catch up. I have the best of
+references--"</p>
+<p>"I see you have," Cappy cut in blandly, and pressed the
+push-button on his desk. Mr. Skinner entered. He glanced
+disapprovingly at William E. Peck and then turned inquiring eyes
+toward Cappy Ricks.</p>
+<p>"Skinner, dear boy," Cappy purred amiably, "I've been thinking
+over the proposition to send Andrews out to the Shanghai office,
+and I've come to this conclusion. We'll have to take a chance. At
+the present time that office is in charge of a stenographer, and
+we've got to get a manager on the job without further loss of time.
+So I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Andrews out on the next
+boat, but inform him that his position is temporary. Then if he
+doesn't make good out there we can take him back into this office,
+where he is a most valuable man. Meanwhile--ahem! hum-m-m!
+Harumph!--meanwhile, you'd oblige me greatly, Skinner, my dear boy,
+if you would consent to take this young man into your office and
+give him a good work-out to see the stuff he's made of. As a favor
+to me, Skinner, my dear boy, as a favor to me."</p>
+<p>Mr. Skinner, in the language of the sporting world, was down for
+the count--and knew it. Young Mr. Peck knew it too, and smiled
+graciously upon the general manager, for young Mr. Peck had been in
+the army, where one of the first great lessons to be assimilated is
+this: that the commanding general's request is always tantamount to
+an order.</p>
+<p>"Very well, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly. "Have you arranged
+the compensation to be given Mr. Peck?"</p>
+<p>Cappy threw up a deprecating hand. "That detail is entirely up
+to you, Skinner. Far be it from me to interfere in the internal
+administration of your department. Naturally you will pay Mr. Peck
+what he is worth and not a cent more." He turned to the triumphant
+Peck. "Now, you listen to me, young feller. If you think you're
+slipping gracefully into a good thing, disabuse your mind of that
+impression right now. You'll step right up to the plate, my son,
+and you'll hit the ball fairly on the nose, and you'll do it early
+and often. The first time you tip a foul, you'll be warned. The
+second time you do it you'll get a month's lay-off to think it
+over, and the third time you'll be out--for keeps. Do I make myself
+clear?"</p>
+<p>"You do, sir," Mr. Peck declared happily. "All I ask is fighting
+room and I'll hack my way into Mr. Skinner's heart. Thank you, Mr.
+Skinner, for consenting to take me on. I appreciate your action
+very, very much and shall endeavor to be worthy of your
+confidence."</p>
+<p>"Young scoundrel! In-fer-nal young scoundrel!" Cappy murmured to
+himself. "He has a sense of humor, thank God! Ah, poor old
+narrow-gauge Skinner! If that fellow ever gets a new or
+unconventional thought in his stodgy head, it'll kill him
+overnight. He's hopping mad right now, because he can't say a word
+in his own defense, but if he doesn't make hell look like a summer
+holiday for Mr. Bill Peck, I'm due to be mercifully chloroformed.
+Good Lord, how empty life would be if I couldn't butt in and raise
+a little riot every once in so often."</p>
+<p>Young Mr. Peck had risen and was standing at attention. "When do
+I report for duty, sir?" he queried of Mr. Skinner.</p>
+<p>"Whenever you're ready," Skinner retorted with a wintry smile.
+Mr. Peck glanced at a cheap wrist watch. "It's twelve o'clock now,"
+he soliloquized aloud. "I'll pop out, wrap myself around some
+rations and report on the job at one P.M. I might just as well
+knock out half a day's pay." He glanced at Cappy Ricks and
+quoted:</p>
+<blockquote>"Count that day lost whose low descending sun<br />
+Finds prices shot to glory and business done for fun."</blockquote>
+<p>Unable to maintain his composure in the face of such levity
+during office hours, Mr. Skinner withdrew, still wrapped in his
+sub-Antarctic dignity. As the door closed behind him, Mr. Peck's
+eyebrows went up in a manner indicative of apprehension.</p>
+<p>"I'm off to a bad start, Mr. Ricks," he opined.</p>
+<p>"You only asked for a start," Cappy piped back at him. "I didn't
+guarantee you a <i>good</i> start, and I wouldn't because I can't.
+I can only drive Skinner and Matt Peasley so far--and no farther.
+There's always a point at which I quit--er--ah--William."</p>
+<p>"More familiarly known as Bill Peck, sir."</p>
+<p>"Very well, Bill." Cappy slid out to the edge of his chair and
+peered at Bill Peck balefully over the top of his spectacles. "I'll
+have my eye on you, young feller," he shrilled. "I freely
+acknowledge our indebtedness to you, but the day you get the notion
+in your head that this office is an old soldiers' home--" He paused
+thoughtfully. "I wonder what Skinner <i>will</i> pay you?" he
+mused. "Oh, well," he continued, whatever it is, take it and say
+nothing and when the moment is propitious--and provided you've
+earned it--I'll intercede with the danged old relic and get you a
+raise."</p>
+<p>"Thank you very much, sir. You are most kind. Good-day,
+sir."</p>
+<p>And Bill Peck picked up his hat and limped out of The Presence.
+Scarcely had the door closed behind him than Mr. Skinner re-entered
+Cappy Ricks' lair. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cappy silenced
+him with an imperious finger.</p>
+<p>"Not a peep out of you, Skinner, my dear boy," he chirped
+amiably. "I know exactly what you're going to say and I admit your
+right to say it, but--as--ahem! Harumph-h-h!--now, Skinner, listen
+to reason. How the devil could you have the heart to reject that
+crippled ex-soldier? There he stood, on one sound leg, with his
+sleeve tucked into his coat pocket and on his homely face the grin
+of an unwhipped, unbeatable man. But you--blast your cold,
+unfeeling soul, Skinner!--looked him in the eye and turned him down
+like a drunkard turns down near-beer. Skinner, how <i>could</i> you
+do it?"</p>
+<p>Undaunted by Cappy's admonitory finger, Mr. Skinner struck a
+distinctly defiant attitude.</p>
+<p>"There is no sentiment in business," he replied angrily. "A week
+ago last Thursday the local posts of the American Legion commenced
+their organized drive for jobs for their crippled and unemployed
+comrades, and within three days you've sawed off two hundred and
+nine such jobs on the various corporations that you control. The
+gang you shipped up to the mill in Washington has already applied
+for a charter for a new post to be known as Cappy Ricks Post No.
+534. And you had experienced men discharged to make room for these
+ex-soldiers."</p>
+<p>"You bet I did," Cappy yelled triumphantly. "It's always Old
+Home Week in every logging camp and saw-mill in the Northwest for
+I.W.W.'s and revolutionary communists. I'm sick of their
+unauthorized strikes and sabotage, and by the Holy Pink-Toed
+Prophet, Cappy Ricks Post. No. 534, American Legion, is the only
+sort of back-fire I can think of to put the Wobblies on the
+run."</p>
+<p>"Every office and ship and retail yard could be run by a
+first-sergeant," Skinner complained. "I'm thinking of having
+reveille and retreat and bugle calls and Saturday morning
+inspections. I tell you, sir, the Ricks interests have absorbed all
+the old soldiers possible and at the present moment those interests
+are overflowing with glory. What we want are workers, not talkers.
+These ex-soldiers spend too much time fighting their battles over
+again."</p>
+<p>"Well, Comrade Peck is the last one I'll ask you to absorb,
+Skinner," Cappy promised contritely. "Ever read Kipling's Barrack
+Room Ballads, Skinner?"</p>
+<p>"I have no time to read," Mr. Skinner protested.</p>
+<p>"Go up town this minute and buy a copy and read one ballad
+entitled 'Tommy,'" Cappy barked. "For the good of your immortal
+soul," he added.</p>
+<p>"Well, Comrade Peck doesn't make a hit with me, Mr. Ricks. He
+applied to me for a job and I gave him his answer. Then he went to
+Captain Matt and was refused, so, just to demonstrate his bad
+taste, he went over our heads and induced you to pitchfork him into
+a job. He'll curse the day he was inspired to do that."</p>
+<p>"Skinner! Skinner! Look me in the eye! Do you know why I asked
+you to take on Bill Peck?"</p>
+<p>"I do. Because you're too tender-hearted for your own good."</p>
+<p>"You unimaginative dunderhead! You jibbering jackdaw! How could
+I reject a boy who simply would not be rejected? Why, I'll bet a
+ripe peach that Bill Peck was one of the doggondest finest soldiers
+you ever saw. He carries his objective. He sized you up just like
+that, Skinner. He declined to permit you to block him. Skinner,
+that Peck person has been opposed by experts. Yes, sir--experts!
+What kind of a job are you going to give him, Skinner, my dear
+boy?"</p>
+<p>"Andrews' job, of course."</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes, I forgot. Skinner, dear boy, haven't we got about half
+a million feet of skunk spruce to saw off on somebody?" Mr. Skinner
+nodded and Cappy continued with all the na&iuml;ve eagerness of one
+who has just made a marvelous discovery, which he is confident will
+revolutionize science. "Give him that stinking stuff to peddle,
+Skinner, and if you can dig up a couple of dozen carloads of red
+fir or bull pine in transit, or some short or odd-length stock, or
+some larch ceiling or flooring, or some hemlock random stock--in
+fact, anything the trade doesn't want as a gift--you get me, don't
+you, Skinner?"</p>
+<p>Mr. Skinner smiled his swordfish smile. "And if he fails to make
+good--<i>au revoir</i>, eh?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so, although I hate to think about it. On the
+other hand, if he makes good he's to have Andrews' salary. We must
+be fair, Skinner. Whatever our faults we must always be fair." He
+rose and patted the general manager's lean shoulder. "There, there,
+Skinner, my boy. Forgive me if I've been a
+trifle--ah--ahem!--precipitate and--er--harumph-h-h! Skinner, if
+you put a prohibitive price on that skunk fir, by the Holy
+Pink-toed Prophet, I'll fire you! Be fair, boy, be fair. No dirty
+work, Skinner. Remember, Comrade Peck has half of his left forearm
+buried in France."</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>III</h2>
+<p>At twelve-thirty, as Cappy was hurrying up California Street to
+luncheon at the Commercial Club, he met Bill Peck limping down the
+sidewalk. The ex-soldier stopped him and handed him a card.</p>
+<p>"What do you think of that, sir?" he queried. "Isn't it a neat
+business card?"</p>
+<p>Cappy read:</p>
+<blockquote class="card">
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;RICKS LUMBER &amp;
+LOGGING COMPANY<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lumber
+and its products<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;248
+California St.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;San
+Francisco.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Represented by</i><br />
+William E. Peck<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>If you can drive nails in it--we have
+it!</i></blockquote>
+<p>Cappy Ricks ran a speculative thumb over Comrade Peck's business
+card. It was engraved. And copper plates or steel dies are not made
+in half an hour!</p>
+<p>"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" This was Cappy's most terrible
+oath and he never employed it unless rocked to his very
+foundations. "Bill, as one bandit to another--come clean. When did
+you first make up your mind to go to work for us?"</p>
+<p>"A week ago," Comrade Peck replied blandly.</p>
+<p>"And what was your grade when Kaiser Bill went A.W.O.L.?"</p>
+<p>"I was a buck."</p>
+<p>"I don't believe you. Didn't anybody ever offer you something
+better?"</p>
+<p>"Frequently. However, if I had accepted I would have had to
+resign the nicest job I ever had. There wasn't much money in it,
+but it was filled with excitement and interesting experiments. I
+used to disguise myself as a Christmas tree or a box car and pick
+off German sharp-shooters. I was known as Peck's Bad Boy. I was
+often tempted to quit, but whenever I'd reflect on the number of
+American lives I was saving daily, a commission was just a scrap of
+paper to me."</p>
+<p>"If you'd ever started in any other branch of the service you'd
+have run John J. Pershing down to lance corporal. Bill, listen!
+Have you ever had any experience selling skunk spruce?"</p>
+<p>Comrade Peck was plainly puzzled. He shook his head. "What sort
+of stock is it?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Humboldt County, California, spruce, and it's coarse and
+stringy and wet and heavy and smells just like a skunk directly
+after using. I'm afraid Skinner's going to start you at the
+bottom--and skunk spruce is it.</p>
+<p>"Can you drive nails in it, Mr. Ricks?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes."</p>
+<p>"Does anybody ever buy skunk spruce, sir?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, occasionally one of our bright young men digs up a half-wit
+who's willing to try anything once. Otherwise, of course, we would
+not continue to manufacture it. Fortunately, Bill, we have very
+little of it, but whenever our woods boss runs across a good tree
+he hasn't the heart to leave it standing, and as a result, we
+always have enough skunk spruce on hand to keep our salesmen
+humble."</p>
+<p>"I can sell anything--at a price," Comrade Peck replied
+unconcernedly, and continued on his way back to the office.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>IV</h2>
+<p>For two months Cappy Ricks saw nothing of Bill Peck. That
+enterprising veteran had been sent out into the Utah, Arizona, New
+Mexico and Texas territory the moment he had familiarized himself
+with the numerous details regarding freight rates, weights and the
+mills he represented, all things which a salesman should be
+familiar with before he starts out on the road. From Salt Lake City
+he wired an order for two carloads of larch rustic and in Ogden he
+managed to inveigle a retail yard with which Mr. Skinner had been
+trying to do business for years, into sampling a carload of skunk
+spruce boards, random lengths and grades, at a dollar above the
+price given him by Skinner. In Arizona he worked up some new
+business in mining timbers, but it was not until he got into the
+heart of Texas that Comrade Peck really commenced to demonstrate
+his selling ability. Standard oil derricks were his specialty and
+he shot the orders in so fast that Mr. Skinner was forced to wire
+him for mercy and instruct him to devote his talent to the disposal
+of cedar shingles and siding, Douglas fir and redwood. Eventually
+he completed his circle and worked his way home, via Los Angeles,
+pausing however, in the San Joaquin Valley to sell two more
+carloads of skunk spruce. When this order was wired in, Mr. Skinner
+came to Cappy Ricks with the telegram.</p>
+<p>"Well, I must admit Comrade Peck can sell lumber," he announced
+grudgingly. "He has secured five new accounts and here is an order
+for two more carloads of skunk spruce. I'll have to raise his
+salary about the first of the year.</p>
+<p>"My dear Skinner, why the devil wait until the first of the
+year? Your pernicious habit of deferring the inevitable parting
+with money has cost us the services of more than one good man. You
+know you have to raise Comrade Peck's salary sooner or later, so
+why not do it now and smile like a dentifrice advertisement while
+you're doing it? Comrade Peck will feel a whole lot better as a
+result, and who knows? He may conclude you're a human being, after
+all, and learn to love you?"</p>
+<p>"Very well, sir. I'll give him the same salary Andrews was
+getting before Peck took over his territory."</p>
+<p>"Skinner, you make it impossible for me to refrain from showing
+you who's boss around here. He's better than Andrews, isn't
+he?"</p>
+<p>"I think he is, sir."</p>
+<p>"Well then, for the love of a square deal, pay him more and pay
+it to him from the first day he went to work. Get out. You make me
+nervous. By the way, how is Andrews getting along in his Shanghai
+job?"</p>
+<p>"He's helping the cable company pay its income tax. Cables about
+three times a week on matters he should decide for himself. Matt
+Peasley is disgusted with him."</p>
+<p>"Ah! Well, I'm not disappointed. And I suppose Matt will be in
+here before long to remind me that I was the bright boy who picked
+Andrews for the job. Well, I did, but I call upon you to remember.
+Skinner, when I'm assailed, that Andrews' appointment was
+temporary."</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir, it was."</p>
+<p>"Well, I suppose I'll have to cast about for his successor and
+beat Matt out of his cheap 'I told you so' triumph. I think Comrade
+Peck has some of the earmarks of a good manager for our Shanghai
+office, but I'll have to test him a little further." He looked up
+humorously at Mr. Skinner. "Skinner, my dear boy," he continued,
+"I'm going to have him deliver a blue vase."</p>
+<p>Mr. Skinner's cold features actually glowed. "Well, tip the
+chief of police and the proprietor of the store off this time and
+save yourself some money," he warned Cappy. He walked to the window
+and looked down into California Street. He continued to smile.</p>
+<p>"Yes," Cappy continued dreamily, "I think I shall give him the
+thirty-third degree. You'll agree with me, Skinner, that if he
+delivers the blue vase he'll be worth ten thousand dollars a year
+as our Oriental manager?"</p>
+<p>"I'll say he will," Mr. Skinner replied slangily.</p>
+<p>"Very well, then. Arrange matters, Skinner, so that he will be
+available for me at one o'clock, a week from Sunday. I'll attend to
+the other details."</p>
+<p>Mr. Skinner nodded. He was still chuckling when he departed for
+his own office.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>V</h2>
+<p>A week from the succeeding Saturday, Mr. Skinner did not come
+down to the office, but a telephone message from his home informed
+the chief clerk that Mr. Skinner was at home and somewhat
+indisposed. The chief clerk was to advise Mr. Peck that he, Mr.
+Skinner, had contemplated having a conference with the latter that
+day, but that his indisposition would prevent this. Mr. Skinner
+hoped to be feeling much better tomorrow, and since he was very
+desirous of a conference with Mr. Peck before the latter should
+depart on his next selling pilgrimage, on Monday, would Mr. Peck be
+good enough to call at Mr. Skinner's house at one o'clock Sunday
+afternoon? Mr. Peck sent back word that he would be there at the
+appointed time and was rewarded with Mr. Skinner's thanks, via the
+chief clerk.</p>
+<p>Promptly at one o'clock the following day, Bill Peck reported at
+the general manager's house. He found Mr. Skinner in bed, reading
+the paper and looking surprisingly well. He trusted Mr. Skinner
+felt better than he looked. Mr. Skinner did, and at once entered
+into a discussion of the new customers, other prospects he
+particularly desired Mr. Peck to approach, new business to be
+investigated, and further details without end. And in the midst of
+this conference Cappy Riggs telephoned.</p>
+<p>A portable telephone stood on a commode beside Mr. Skinner's
+bed, so the latter answered immediately. Comrade Peck watched
+Skinner listen attentively for fully two minutes, then heard him
+say:</p>
+<p>"Mr. Ricks, I'm terribly sorry. I'd love to do this errand for
+you, but really I'm under the weather. In fact, I'm in bed as I
+speak to you now. But Mr. Peck is here with me and I'm sure he'll be
+very happy to attend to the matter for you."</p>
+<p>"By all means," Bill Peck hastened to assure the general
+manager. "Who does Mr. Ricks want killed and where will he have the
+body delivered?"</p>
+<p>"Hah-hah! Hah-Hah!" Mr. Skinner had a singularly annoying,
+mirthless laugh, as if he begrudged himself such an unheard-of
+indulgence. "Mr. Peck says," he informed Cappy, "that he'll be
+delighted to attend to the matter for you. He wants to know whom
+you want killed and where you wish the body delivered. Hah-hah!
+Hah! Peck, Mr. Ricks will speak to you."</p>
+<p>Bill Peck took the telephone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ricks."</p>
+<p>"Hello, old soldier. What are you doing this afternoon?"</p>
+<p>"Nothing--after I conclude my conference with Mr. Skinner. By
+the way, he has just given me a most handsome boost in salary, for
+which I am most appreciative. I feel, however, despite Mr.
+Skinner's graciousness, that you have put in a kind word for me
+with him, and I want to thank you--"</p>
+<p>"Tut, tut. Not a peep out of you, sir. Not a peep. You get
+nothing for nothing from Skinner or me. However, in view of the
+fact that you're feeling kindly toward me this afternoon, I wish
+you'd do a little errand for me. I can't send a boy and I hate to
+make a messenger out of you--er--ah--ahem! That is
+har-umph-h-h--!"</p>
+<p>"I have no false pride, Mr. Ricks."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, Bill. Glad you feel that way about it. Bill, I was
+prowling around town this forenoon, after church, and down in a
+store on Sutter Street, between Stockton and Powell Street, on the
+right hand side as you face Market Street, I saw a blue vase in a
+window. I have a weakness for vases, Bill. I'm a sharp on them,
+too. Now, this vase I saw isn't very expensive as vases go--in
+fact, I wouldn't buy it for my collection--but one of the finest
+and sweetest ladies of my acquaintance has the mate to that blue
+vase I saw in the window, and I know she'd be prouder than Punch if
+she had two of them--one for each side of her drawing room mantel,
+understand?</p>
+<p>"Now, I'm leaving from the Southern Pacific depot at eight
+o'clock tonight, bound for Santa Barbara to attend her wedding
+anniversary tomorrow night. I forget what anniversary it is, Bill,
+but I have been informed by my daughter that I'll be very much
+<i>de trop</i> if I send her any present other than something in
+porcelain or China or Cloisonn&eacute;--well, Bill, this crazy
+little blue vase just fills the order. Understand?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir. You feel that it would be most graceful on your part
+if you could bring this little blue vase down to Santa Barbara with
+you tonight. You have to have it tonight, because if you wait until
+the store opens on Monday the vase will reach your hostess
+twenty-four hours after her anniversary party."</p>
+<p>"Exactly, Bill. Now, I've simply got to have that vase. If I had
+discovered it yesterday I wouldn't be asking you to get it for me
+today, Bill."</p>
+<p>"Please do not make any explanations or apologies, Mr. Ricks.
+You have described the vase--no you haven't. What sort of blue is
+it, how tall is it and what is, approximately, its greatest
+diameter? Does it set on a base, or does it not? Is it a solid
+blue, or is it figured?"</p>
+<p>It's a Cloisonn&eacute; vase, Bill--sort of old Dutch blue, or
+Delft, with some Oriental funny-business on it. I couldn't describe
+it exactly, but it has some birds and flowers on it. It's about a
+foot tall and four inches in diameter and sets on a teak-wood
+base."</p>
+<p>"Very well, sir. You shall have it."</p>
+<p>"And you'll deliver it to me in stateroom A, car 7, aboard the
+train at Third and Townsend Streets, at seven fifty-five
+tonight?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, Bill. The expense will be trifling. Collect it from
+the cashier in the morning, and tell him to charge it to my
+account." And Cappy hung up.</p>
+<p>At once Mr. Skinner took up the thread of the interrupted
+conference, and it was not until three o'clock that Bill Peck left
+his house and proceeded downtown to locate Cappy Rick's blue
+vase.</p>
+<p>He proceeded to the block in Sutter Street between Stockton and
+Powell Streets, and although he walked patiently up one side of the
+street and down the other, not a single vase of any description
+showed in any shop window, nor could he find a single shop where
+such a vase as Cappy had described might, perchance, be displayed
+for sale.</p>
+<p>"I think the old boy has erred in the co-ordinates of the
+target," Bill Peck concluded, "or else I misunderstood him. I'll
+telephone his house and ask him to repeat them."</p>
+<p>He did, but nobody was at home except a Swedish maid, and all
+she knew was that Mr. Ricks was out and the hour of his return was
+unknown. So Mr. Peck went back to Sutter Street and scoured once
+more every shop window in the block. Then he scouted two blocks
+above Powell and two blocks below Stockton. Still the blue vase
+remained invisible.</p>
+<p>So he transferred his search to a corresponding area on Bush
+Street, and when that failed, he went painstakingly over four
+blocks of Post Street. He was still without results when he moved
+one block further west and one further south and discovered the
+blue vase in a huge plate-glass window of a shop on Geary Street
+near Grant Avenue. He surveyed it critically and was convinced that
+it was the object he sought.</p>
+<p>He tried the door, but it was locked, as he had anticipated it
+would be. So he kicked the door and raised an infernal racket,
+hoping against hope that the noise might bring a watchman from the
+rear of the building. In vain. He backed out to the edge of the
+sidewalk and read the sign over the door:</p>
+<blockquote>B. Cohen's Art Shop</blockquote>
+<p>This was a start, so Mr. Peck limped over to the Palace Hotel
+and procured a telephone directory. By actual count there were
+nineteen B. Cohens scattered throughout the city, so before
+commencing to call the nineteen, Bill Peck borrowed the city
+directory from the hotel clerk and scanned it for the particular B.
+Cohen who owned the art shop. His search availed him nothing. B.
+Cohen was listed as an art dealer at the address where the blue
+vase reposed in the show window. That was all.</p>
+<p>"I suppose he's a commuter," Mr. Peck concluded, and at once
+proceeded to procure directories of the adjacent cities of
+Berkeley, Oakland and Alameda. They were not available, so in
+despair he changed a dollar into five cent pieces, sought a
+telephone booth and commenced calling up all the B. Cohens in San
+Francisco. Of the nineteen, four did not answer, three were
+temporarily disconnected, six replied in Yiddish, five were not the
+B. Cohen he sought, and one swore he was Irish and that his name
+was spelled Cohan and pronounced with an accent on both
+syllables.</p>
+<p>The B. Cohens resident in Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda, San
+Rafael, Sausalito, Mill Valley, San Mateo, Redwood City and Palo
+Alto were next telephoned to, and when this long and expensive task
+was done, Ex-Private Bill Peck emerged from the telephone booth
+wringing wet with perspiration and as irritable as a clucking hen.
+Once outside the hotel he raised his haggard face to heaven and
+dumbly queried of the Almighty what He meant by saving him from
+quick death on the field of honor only to condemn him to be talked
+to death by B. Cohens in civil life.</p>
+<p>It was now six o'clock. Suddenly Peck had an inspiration. Was
+the name spelled Cohen, Cohan, Cohn, Kohn or Coen?</p>
+<p>"If I have to take a Jewish census again tonight I'll die," he
+told himself desperately, and went back to the art shop.</p>
+<p>The sign read: B. COHN'S ART SHOP.</p>
+<p>"I wish I knew a bootlegger's joint," poor Peck complained. "I'm
+pretty far gone and a little wood alcohol couldn't hurt me much
+now. Why, I could have sworn that name was spelled with an E. It
+seems to me I noted that particularly."</p>
+<p>He went back to the hotel telephone booth and commenced calling
+up all the B. Cohns in town. There were eight of them and six of
+them were out, one was maudlin with liquor and the other was very
+deaf and shouted unintelligibly.</p>
+<p>"Peace hath its barbarities no less than war," Mr. Peck sighed.
+He changed a twenty-dollar bill into nickles, dimes and quarters,
+returned to the hot, ill-smelling telephone booth and proceeded to
+lay down a barrage of telephone calls to the B. Cohns of all towns
+of any importance contiguous to San Francisco Bay. And he was
+lucky. On the sixth call he located the particular B. Cohn in San
+Rafael, only to be informed by Mr. Cohn's cook that Mr. Cohn was
+dining at the home of a Mr. Simons in Mill Valley.</p>
+<p>There were three Mr. Simons in Mill Valley, and Peck called them
+all before connecting with the right one. Yes, Mr. B. Cohn was
+there. Who wished to speak to him? Mr. Heck? Oh, Mr. Lake! A
+silence. Then--Mr. Cohn says he doesn't know any Mr. Lake and wants
+to know the nature of your business. He is dining and doesn't like
+to be disturbed unless the matter is of grave importance."</p>
+<p>"Tell him Mr. Peck wishes to speak to him on a matter of very
+great importance," wailed the ex-private.</p>
+<p>"Mr. Metz? Mr. Ben Metz?</p>
+<p>"No, no, no. Peck--p-e-c-k."</p>
+<p>"D-e-c-k?"</p>
+<p>"No, P."</p>
+<p>"C?"</p>
+<p>"P."</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes, E. E-what?"</p>
+<p>"C-K--"</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes, Mr. Eckstein."</p>
+<p>"Call Cohn to the 'phone or I'll go over there on the next boat
+and kill you, you damned idiot," shrieked Peck. "Tell him his store
+is on fire."</p>
+<p>That message was evidently delivered for almost instantly Mr. B.
+Cohn was puffing and spluttering into the phone.</p>
+<p>"Iss dot der fire marshal?" he managed to articulate.</p>
+<p>"Listen, Mr. Cohn. Your store is not on fire, but I had to say
+so in order to get you to the telephone. I am Mr. Peck, a total
+stranger to you. You have a blue vase in your shop window on Geary
+Street in San Francisco. I want to buy it and I want to buy it
+before seven forty-five tonight. I want you to come across the bay
+and open the store and sell me that vase."</p>
+<p>"Such a business! Vot you think I am? Crazy?"</p>
+<p>"No, Mr. Cohn, I do not. I'm the only crazy man talking. I'm
+crazy for that vase and I've got to have it right away."</p>
+<p>"You know vot dot vase costs?" Mr. B. Cohn's voice dripped
+syrup.</p>
+<p>"No, and I don't give a hoot what it costs. I want what I want
+when I want it. Do I get it?"</p>
+<p>"Ve-ell, lemme see. Vot time iss it?" A silence while B. Cohn
+evidently looked at his watch. "It iss now a quarter of seven, Mr.
+Eckstein, und der nexd drain from Mill Valley don't leaf until
+eight o'clock. Dot vill get me to San Francisco at eight-fifty--und
+I am dining mit friends und haf just finished my soup."</p>
+<p>"To hell with your soup. I want that blue vase."</p>
+<p>"Vell, I tell you, Mr. Eckstein, if you got to have it, call up
+my head salesman, Herman Joost, in der Chilton Apardments--Prospect
+three--two--four--nine, und tell him I said he should come down
+right avay qvick und sell you dot blue vase. Goodbye, Mr.
+Eckstein."</p>
+<p>And B. Cohn hung up.</p>
+<p>Instantly Peck called Prospect 3249 and asked for Herman Joost.
+Mr. Joost's mother answered. She was desolated because Herman was
+not at home, but vouchsafed the information that he was dining at
+the country club. Which country club? She did not know. So Peck
+procured from the hotel clerk a list of the country clubs in and
+around San Francisco and started calling them up. At eight o'clock
+he was still being informed that Mr. Juice was not a member, that
+Mr. Luce wasn't in, that Mr. Coos had been dead three months and
+that Mr. Boos had played but eight holes when he received a
+telegram calling him back to New York. At the other clubs Mr. Joust
+was unknown.</p>
+<p>"Licked," murmured Bill Peck, "but never let it be said that I
+didn't go down fighting. I'm going to heave a brick through that
+show window, grab the vase and run with it."</p>
+<p>He engaged a taxicab and instructed the driver to wait for him
+at the corner of Geary and Stockton Streets. Also, he borrowed from
+the chauffeur a ball peen hammer. When he reached the art shop of
+B. Cohn, however, a policeman was standing in the doorway,
+violating the general orders of a policeman on duty by
+surreptitiously smoking a cigar.</p>
+<p>"He'll nab me if I crack that window," the desperate Peck
+decided, and continued on down the street, crossed to the other
+side and came back. It was now dark and over the art shop B. Cohn's
+name burned in small red, white and blue electric lights.</p>
+<p>And lo, it was spelled B. Cohen!</p>
+<p>Ex-private William E. Peck sat down on a fire hydrant and cursed
+with rage. His weak leg hurt him, too, and for some damnable
+reason, the stump of his left arm developed the feeling that his
+missing hand was itchy.</p>
+<p>"The world is filled with idiots," he raved furiously. "I'm
+tired and I'm hungry. I skipped luncheon and I've been too busy to
+think of dinner."</p>
+<p>He walked back to his taxicab and returned to the hotel where,
+hope springing eternal in his breast, he called Prospect 3249 again
+and discovered that the missing Herman Joost had returned to the
+bosom of his family. To him the frantic Peck delivered the message
+of B. Cohn, whereupon the cautious Herman Joost replied that he
+would confirm the authenticity of the message by telephoning to Mr.
+Cohn at Mr. Simon's home in Mill Valley. If Mr. B. Cohn or Cohen
+confirmed Mr. Kek's story he, the said Herman Joost, would be at
+the store sometime before nine o'clock, and if Mr. Kek cared to, he
+might await him there.</p>
+<p>Mr. Kek said he would be delighted to wait for him there.</p>
+<p>At nine-fifteen Herman Joost appeared on the scene. On his way
+down the street he had taken the precaution to pick up a policeman
+and bring him along with him. The lights were switched on in the
+store and Mr. Joost lovingly abstracted the blue vase from the
+window.</p>
+<p>"What's the cursed thing worth?" Peck demanded.</p>
+<p>"Two thousand dollars," Mr. Joost replied without so much as the
+quiver of an eyelash. "Cash," he added, apparently as an
+afterthought.</p>
+<p>The exhausted Peck leaned against the sturdy guardian of the law
+and sighed. This was the final straw. He had about ten dollars in
+his possession.</p>
+<p>"You refuse, absolutely, to accept my check?" he quavered.</p>
+<p>"I don't know you, Mr. Peck," Herman Joost replied simply.</p>
+<p>"Where's your telephone?"</p>
+<p>Mr. Joost led Peck to the telephone and the latter called up Mr.
+Skinner.</p>
+<p>"Mr. Skinner," he announced, "this is all that is mortal of Bill
+Peck speaking. I've got the store open and for two thousand
+dollars--cash--I can buy the blue vase Mr. Ricks has set his heart
+upon."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Peck, dear fellow," Mr. Skinner purred sympathetically.
+"Have you been all this time on that errand?"</p>
+<p>"I have. And I'm going to stick on the job until I deliver the
+goods. For God's sake let me have two thousand dollars and bring it
+down to me at B. Cohen's Art Shop on Geary Street near Grant
+Avenue. I'm too utterly exhausted to go up after it."</p>
+<p>"My dear Mr. Peck, I haven't two thousand dollars in my house.
+That is too great a sum of money to keep on hand."</p>
+<p>"Well, then, come downtown, open up the office safe and get the
+money for me."</p>
+<p>"Time lock on the office safe, Peck. Impossible."</p>
+<p>"Well then, come downtown and identify me at hotels and
+caf&eacute;s and restaurants so I can cash my own check."</p>
+<p>"Is your check good, Mr. Peck?"</p>
+<p>The flood of invective which had been accumulating in Mr. Peck's
+system all the afternoon now broke its bounds. He screamed at Mr.
+Skinner a blasphemous invitation to betake himself to the lower
+regions.</p>
+<p>"Tomorrow morning," he promised hoarsely, "I'll beat you to
+death with the stump of my left arm, you miserable, cold-blooded,
+lazy, shiftless slacker."</p>
+<p>He called up Cappy Ricks' residence next, and asked for Captain
+Matt Peasley, who, he knew, made his home with his father-in-law.
+Matt Peasley came to the telephone and listened sympathetically to
+Peck's tale of woe.</p>
+<p>"Peck, that's the worst outrage I ever heard of," he declared.
+"The idea of setting you such a task. You take my advice and forget
+the blue vase."</p>
+<p>"I can't," Peck panted. "Mr. Ricks will feel mighty chagrined if
+I fail to get the vase to him. I wouldn't disappoint him for my
+right arm. He's been a dead game sport with me, Captain
+Peasley."</p>
+<p>"But it's too late to get the vase to him, Peck. He left the
+city at eight o'clock and it is now almost half past nine."</p>
+<p>"I know, but if I can secure legal possession of the vase I'll
+get it to him before he leaves the train at Santa Barbara at six
+o'clock tomorrow morning."</p>
+<p>"How?"</p>
+<p>"There's a flying school out at the Marina and one of the pilots
+there is a friend of mine. He'll fly to Santa Barbara with me and
+the vase."</p>
+<p>"You're crazy."</p>
+<p>"I know it. Please lend me two thousand dollars."</p>
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+<p>"To pay for the vase."</p>
+<p>"Now I know you're crazy--or drunk. Why if Cappy Ricks ever
+forgot himself to the extent of paying two hundred dollars for a
+vase he'd bleed to death in an hour."</p>
+<p>"Won't you let me have two thousand dollars, Captain
+Peasley?"</p>
+<p>"I will not, Peck, old son. Go home and to bed and forget
+it."</p>
+<p>"Please. You can cash your checks. You're known so much better
+than I, and it's Sunday night--"</p>
+<p>"And it's a fine way to keep holy the Sabbath day," Matt Peasley
+retorted and hung up.</p>
+<p>"Well," Herman Joost queried, "do we stay here all night?"</p>
+<p>Bill Peck bowed his head. "Look here," he demanded suddenly, "do
+you know a good diamond when you see it?"</p>
+<p>"I do," Herman Joost replied.</p>
+<p>"Will you wait here until I go to my hotel and get one?"</p>
+<p>"Sure."</p>
+<p>Bill Peck limped painfully away. Forty minutes later he returned
+with a platinum ring set with diamonds and sapphires.</p>
+<p>"What are they worth?" he demanded.</p>
+<p>Herman Joost looked the ring over lovingly and appraised it
+conservatively at twenty-five hundred dollars.</p>
+<p>"Take it as security for the payment of my check," Peck pleaded.
+"Give me a receipt for it and after my check has gone through
+clearing I'll come back and get the ring."</p>
+<p>Fifteen minutes later, with the blue vase packed in excelsior
+and reposing in a stout cardboard box, Bill Peck entered a
+restaurant and ordered dinner. When he had dined he engaged a taxi
+and was driven to the flying field at the Marina. From the night
+watchman he ascertained the address of his pilot friend and at
+midnight, with his friend at the wheel, Bill Peck and his blue vase
+soared up into the moonlight and headed south.</p>
+<p>An hour and a half later they landed in a stubble field in the
+Salinas Valley and, bidding his friend good-bye, Bill Peck trudged
+across to the railroad track and sat down. When the train bearing
+Cappy Ricks came roaring down the valley, Peck twisted a Sunday
+paper with which he had provided himself, into an improvised torch,
+which he lighted. Standing between the rails he swung the flaming
+paper frantically.</p>
+<p>The train slid to a halt, a brakeman opened a vestibule door,
+and Bill Peck stepped wearily aboard.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean by flagging this train?" the brakeman demanded
+angrily, as he signaled the engineer to proceed. "Got a
+ticket?"</p>
+<p>"No, but I've got the money to pay my way. And I flagged this
+train because I wanted to change my method of travel. I'm looking
+for a man in stateroom A of car 7, and if you try to block me
+there'll be murder done."</p>
+<p>"That's right. Take advantage of your half-portion arm and abuse
+me," the brakeman retorted bitterly. "Are you looking for that
+little old man with the Henry Clay collar and the white mutton-chop
+whiskers?"</p>
+<p>"I certainly am."</p>
+<p>"Well, he was looking for you just before we left San Francisco.
+He asked me if I had seen a one-armed man with a box under his good
+arm. I'll lead you to him."</p>
+<p>A prolonged ringing at Cappy's stateroom door brought the old
+gentleman to the entrance in his nightshirt.</p>
+<p>"Very sorry to have to disturb you, Mr. Ricks," said Bill Peck,
+"but the fact is there were so many Cohens and Cohns and Cohans,
+and it was such a job to dig up two thousand dollars, that I failed
+to connect with you at seven forty-five last night, as per orders.
+It was absolutely impossible for me to accomplish the task within
+the time limit set, but I was resolved that you should not be
+disappointed. Here is the vase. The shop wasn't within four blocks
+of where you thought it was, sir, but I'm sure I found the right
+vase. It ought to be. It cost enough and was hard enough to get, so
+it should be precious enough to form a gift for any friend of
+yours."</p>
+<p>Cappy Ricks stared at Bill Peck as if the latter were a
+wraith.</p>
+<p>"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" he murmured. "By the Holy
+Pink-toed Prophet! We changed the sign on you and we stacked the
+Cohens on you and we set a policeman to guard the shop to keep you
+from breaking the window, and we made you dig up two thousand
+dollars on Sunday night in a town where you are practically
+unknown, and while you missed the train at eight o'clock, you
+overtake it at two o'clock in the morning and deliver the blue
+vase. Come in and rest your poor old game leg, Bill. Brake-man, I'm
+much obliged to you."</p>
+<p>Bill Peck entered and slumped wearily down on the settee. "So it
+was a plant?" he cracked, and his voice trembled with rage. "Well,
+sir, you're an old man and you've been good to me, so I do not
+begrudge you your little joke, but Mr. Ricks, I can't stand things
+like I used to. My leg hurts and my stump hurts and my heart
+hurts------"</p>
+<p>He paused, choking, and the tears of impotent rage filled his
+eyes. "You shouldn't treat me that way, sir," he complained
+presently. "I've been trained not to question orders, even when
+they seem utterly foolish to me; I've been trained to obey them--on
+time, if possible, but if impossible, to obey them anyhow. I've
+been taught loyalty to my chief--and I'm sorry my chief found it
+necessary to make a buffoon of me. I haven't had a very good time
+the past three years and--and--you can--pa-pa-pass your skunk
+spruce and larch rustic and short odd length stock to some slacker
+like Skinner--and you'd better--arrange--to replace--Skinner,
+because he's young--enough to--take a beating--and I'm going
+to--give it to him--and it'll be a hospital--job--sir--"</p>
+<p>Cappy Ricks ruffled Bill Peck's aching head with a paternal
+hand.</p>
+<p>"Bill, old boy, it was cruel--damnably cruel, but I had a big
+job for you and I had to find out a lot of things about you before
+I entrusted you with that job. So I arranged to give you the Degree
+of the Blue Vase, which is the supreme test of a go-getter. You
+thought you carried into this stateroom a two thousand dollar vase,
+but between ourselves, what you really carried in was a ten
+thousand dollar job as our Shanghai manager."</p>
+<p>"Wha--what!"</p>
+<p>"Every time I have to pick out a permanent holder of a job worth
+ten thousand dollars, or more, I give the candidate the Degree of
+the Blue Vase," Cappy explained. "I've had two men out of a field
+of fifteen deliver the vase, Bill."</p>
+<p>Bill Peck had forgotten his rage, but the tears of his recent
+fury still glistened in his bold blue eyes. "Thank you, sir. I
+forgive you--and I'll make good in Shanghai."</p>
+<p>"I know you will, Bill. Now, tell me, son, weren't you tempted
+to quit when you discovered the almost insuperable obstacles I'd
+placed in your way?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, sir, I was. I wanted to commit suicide before I'd finished
+telephoning all the C-o-h-e-n-s in the world. And when I started on
+the C-o-h-n-s--well, it's this way, sir. I just couldn't quit
+because that would have been disloyal to a man I once knew."</p>
+<p>"Who was he?" Cappy demanded, and there was awe in his
+voice.</p>
+<p>"He was my brigadier, and he had a brigade motto: It shall be
+done. When the divisional commander called him up and told him to
+move forward with his brigade and occupy certain territory, our
+brigadier would say: 'Very well, sir. It shall be done.' If any
+officer in his brigade showed signs of flunking his job because it
+appeared impossible, the brigadier would just look at him once--and
+then that officer would remember the motto and go and do his job or
+die trying.</p>
+<p>"In the army, sir, the <i>esprit de corps</i> doesn't bubble up
+from the bottom. It filters down from the top. An organization is
+what its commanding officer is--neither better nor worse. In my
+company, when the top sergeant handed out a week of kitchen police
+to a buck, that buck was out of luck if he couldn't muster a grin
+and say: 'All right, sergeant. It shall be done.'</p>
+<p>"The brigadier sent for me once and ordered me to go out and get
+a certain German sniper. I'd been pretty lucky--some days I got
+enough for a mess--and he'd heard of me. He opened a map and said
+to me: 'Here's about where he holes up. Go get him, Private Peck.'
+Well, Mr. Ricks, I snapped into it and gave him a rifle salute, and
+said, 'Sir, it shall be done'--and I'll never forget the look that
+man gave me. He came down to the field hospital to see me after I'd
+walked into one of those Austrian 88's. I knew my left wing was a
+total loss and I suspected my left leg was about to leave me, and I
+was downhearted and wanted to die. He came and bucked me up. He
+said: 'Why, Private Peck, you aren't half dead. In civil life
+you're going to be worth half a dozen live ones--aren't you?' But I
+was pretty far gone and I told him I didn't believe it, so he gave
+me a hard look and said: 'Private Peck will do his utmost to
+recover and as a starter he will smile.' Of course, putting it in
+the form of an order, I had to give him the usual reply, so I
+grinned and said: 'Sir, it shall be done.' He was quite a man, sir,
+and his brigade had a soul--his soul----"</p>
+<p>"I see, Bill. And his soul goes marching on, eh? Who was he,
+Bill?"</p>
+<p>Bill Peck named his idol.</p>
+<p>"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" There was awe in Cappy Ricks'
+voice, there was reverence in his faded old eyes. "Son," he
+continued gently, "twenty-five years ago your brigadier was a candidate
+for an important job in my employ--and I gave him the Degree of the
+Blue Vase. He couldn't get the vase legitimately, so he threw a
+cobble-stone through the window, grabbed the vase and ran a mile
+and a half before the police captured him. Cost me a lot of money
+to square the case and keep it quiet. But he was too good, Bill,
+and I couldn't stand in his way; I let him go forward to his
+destiny. But tell me, Bill. How did you get the two thousand
+dollars to pay for this vase?"</p>
+<p>"Once," said ex-Private Peck thoughtfully, "the brigadier and I
+were first at a dug-out entrance. It was a headquarters dug-out and
+they wouldn't surrender, so I bombed them and then we went down. I
+found a finger with a ring on it--and the brigadier said if I
+didn't take the ring somebody else would. I left that ring as
+security for my check."</p>
+<p>"But how could you have the courage to let me in for a two
+thousand dollar vase? Didn't you realize that the price was absurd
+and that I might repudiate the transaction?"</p>
+<p>"Certainly not. You are responsible for the acts of your
+servant. You are a true blue sport and would never repudiate my
+action. You told me what to do, but you did not insult my
+intelligence by telling me how to do it. When my late brigadier
+sent me after the German sniper he didn't take into consideration
+the probability that the sniper might get me. He told me to get the
+sniper. It was my business to see to it that I accomplished my
+mission and carried my objective, which, of course, I could not
+have done if I had permitted the German to get me."</p>
+<p>"I see, Bill. Well, give that blue vase to the porter in the
+morning. I paid fifteen cents for it in a five, ten and fifteen
+cent store. Meanwhile, hop into that upper berth and help yourself
+to a well-earned rest."</p>
+<p>"But aren't you going to a wedding anniversary at Santa Barbara,
+Mr. Ricks?"</p>
+<p>"I am not. Bill, I discovered a long time ago that it's a good
+idea for me to get out of town and play golf as often as I can.
+Besides which, prudence dictates that I remain away from the office
+for a week after the seeker of blue vases fails to deliver the
+goods and--by the way, Bill, what sort of a game do you play? Oh,
+forgive me, Bill. I forgot about your left arm."</p>
+<p>"Say, look here, sir," Bill Peck retorted, "I'm big enough and
+ugly enough to play one-handed golf."</p>
+<p>"But, have you ever tried it?"</p>
+<p>"No, sir," Bill Peck replied seriously, "but--it shall be
+done!"</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
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diff --git a/old/12257.txt b/old/12257.txt
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+++ b/old/12257.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Go-Getter
+
+Author: Peter B. Kyne
+
+Release Date: May 4, 2004 [EBook #12257]
+[Last updated: May 25, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GO-GETTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy, and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Go-Getter
+
+A Story That Tells You How to be One
+
+By Peter B. Kyne
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DEDICATION
+
+     THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAD CHIEF,
+     BRIGADIER-GENERAL LEROY S. LYON, SOMETIME COMMANDER OF THE
+     65TH FIELD ARTILLERY BRIGADE, 40TH DIVISION, UNITED STATES
+     ARMY.
+
+     HE PRACTICED AND PREACHED A RELIGION OF LOYALTY TO THE COUNTRY
+     AND THE APPOINTED TASK, WHATEVER IT MIGHT BE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+I
+
+Mr. Alden P. Ricks, known in Pacific Coast wholesale lumber and shipping
+circles as Cappy Ricks, had more troubles than a hen with ducklings. He
+remarked as much to Mr. Skinner, president and general manager of the
+Ricks Logging & Lumbering Company, the corporate entity which
+represented Cappy's vast lumber interests; and he fairly barked the
+information at Captain Matt Peasley, his son-in-law and also president
+and manager of the Blue Star Navigation Company, another corporate
+entity which represented the Ricks interest in the American mercantile
+marine.
+
+Mr. Skinner received this information in silence. He was not related to
+Cappy Ricks. But Matt Peasley sat down, crossed his legs and matched
+glares with his mercurial father-in-law.
+
+"_You_ have troubles!" he jeered, with emphasis on the pronoun. "Have
+you got a misery in your back, or is Herbert Hoover the wrong man for
+Secretary of Commerce?"
+
+"Stow your sarcasm, young feller," Cappy shrilled. "You know dad-blamed
+well it isn't a question of health or politics. It's the fact that in my
+old age I find myself totally surrounded by the choicest aggregation of
+mental duds since Ajax defied the lightning."
+
+"Meaning whom?"
+
+"You and Skinner."
+
+"Why, what have we done?"
+
+"You argued me into taking on the management of twenty-five of those
+infernal Shipping Board freighters, and no sooner do we have them
+allocated to us than a near panic hits the country, freight rates go to
+glory, marine engineers go on strike and every infernal young whelp we
+send out to take charge of one of our offices in the Orient promptly
+gets the swelled head and thinks he's divinely ordained to drink up all
+the synthetic Scotch whiskey manufactured in Japan for the benefit of
+thirsty Americans. In my old age you two have forced us into the
+position of having to fire folks by cable. Why? Because we're breaking
+into a game that can't be played on the home grounds. A lot of our
+business is so far away we can't control it."
+
+Matt Peasley leveled an accusing finger at Cappy Ricks. "We never argued
+you into taking over the management of those Shipping Board boats. We
+argued me into it. I'm the goat. You have nothing to do with it. You
+retired ten years ago. All the troubles in the marine end of this shop
+belong on my capable shoulders, old settler."
+
+"Theoretically--yes. Actually--no. I hope you do not expect me to
+abandon mental as well as physical effort. Great Wampus Cats! Am I to be
+denied a sentimental interest in matters where I have a controlling
+financial interest? I admit you two boys are running my affairs and
+ordinarily you run them rather well, but--but--ahem! Harumph-h-h! What's
+the matter with you, Matt? And you, also, Skinner? If Matt makes a
+mistake, it's your job to remind him of it before the results manifest
+themselves, is it not? And vice versa. Have you two boobs lost your
+ability to judge men or did you ever have such ability?"
+
+"You're referring to Henderson, of the Shanghai office, I dare say," Mr.
+Skinner cut in.
+
+"I am, Skinner. And I'm here to remind you that if we'd stuck to our own
+game, which is coast-wise shipping, and had left the trans-Pacific field
+with its general cargoes to others, we wouldn't have any Shanghai office
+at this moment and we would not be pestered by the Hendersons of this
+world."
+
+"He's the best lumber salesman we've ever had," Mr. Skinner defended. "I
+had every hope that he would send us orders for many a cargo for Asiatic
+delivery."
+
+"And he had gone through every job in this office, from office boy to
+sales manager in the lumber department and from freight clerk to
+passenger agent in the navigation company," Matt Peasley supplemented.
+
+"I admit all of that. But did you consult me when you decided to send
+him out to China on his own?"
+
+"Of course not. I'm boss of the Blue Star Navigation Company, am I not?
+The man was in charge of the Shanghai office before you ever opened your
+mouth to discharge your cargo of free advice."
+
+"I told you then that Henderson wouldn't make good, didn't I?"
+
+"You did."
+
+"And now I have an opportunity to tell you the little tale you didn't
+give me an opportunity to tell you before you sent him out. Henderson
+_was_ a good man--a crackerjack man--when he had a better man over him.
+But--I've been twenty years reducing a tendency on the part of that
+fellow's head to bust his hat-band. And now he's gone south with a
+hundred and thirty thousand taels of our Shanghai bank account."
+
+"Permit me to remind you, Mr. Ricks," Mr. Skinner cut in coldly, "that
+he was bonded to the extent of a quarter of a million dollars."
+
+"Not a peep out of you, Skinner. Not a peep. Permit me to remind _you_
+that I'm the little genius who placed that insurance unknown to you and
+Matt. And I recall now that I was reminded by you, Matthew, my son, that
+I had retired ten years ago and please, would I quit interfering in the
+internal administration of your office."
+
+"Well, I must admit your far-sightedness in that instance will keep the
+Shanghai office out of the red ink this year," Matt Peasley replied.
+"However, we face this situation, Cappy. Henderson has drunk and gambled
+and signed chits in excess of his salary. He hasn't attended to business
+and he's capped his inefficiency by absconding with our bank account. We
+couldn't foresee that. When we send a man out to the Orient to be our
+manager there, we have to trust him all the way or not at all. So there
+is no use weeping over spilled milk, Cappy. Our job is to select a
+successor to Henderson and send him out to Shanghai on the next boat."
+
+"Oh, very well, Matt," Cappy replied magnanimously, "I'll not rub it
+into you. I suppose I'm far from generous, bawling you out like this.
+Perhaps, when you're my age and have a lot of mental and moral cripples
+nip you and draw blood as often as they've drawn it on me you'll be a
+better judge than I of men worthy of the weight of responsibility.
+Skinner, have you got a candidate for this job?"
+
+"I regret to say, sir, I have not. All of the men in my department are
+quite young--too young for the responsibility."
+
+"What do you mean--young?" Cappy blazed.
+
+"Well, the only man I would consider for the job is Andrews and he is
+too young--about thirty, I should say."
+
+"About thirty, eh? Strikes me you were about twenty-eight when I threw
+ten thousand a year at you in actual cash, and a couple of million
+dollars' worth of responsibility."
+
+"Yes sir, but then Andrews has never been tested----"
+
+"Skinner," Cappy interrupted in his most awful voice, "it's a constant
+source of amazement to me why I refrain from firing you. You say Andrews
+has never been tested. Why hasn't he been tested? Why are we maintaining
+untested material in this shop, anyhow? Eh? Answer me that. Tut, tut,
+tut! Not a peep out of you, sir. If you had done your Christian duty,
+you would have taken a year's vacation when lumber was selling itself in
+1919 and 1920, and you would have left Andrews sitting in at your desk
+to see the sort of stuff he's made of."
+
+"It's a mighty lucky thing I didn't go away for a year," Skinner
+protested respectfully, "because the market broke--like that--and if you
+don't think we have to hustle to sell sufficient lumber to keep our own
+ships busy freighting it--"
+
+"Skinner, how dare you contradict me? How old was Matt Peasley when I
+turned over the Blue Star Navigation Company to him, lock, stock and
+barrel? Why, he wasn't twenty-six years old. Skinner, you're a dodo! The
+killjoys like you who have straddled the neck of industry and throttled
+it with absurd theories that a man's back must be bent like an ox-bow
+and his locks snowy white before he can be entrusted with responsibility
+and a living wage, have caused all of our wars and strikes. This is a
+young man's world, Skinner, and don't you ever forget it. The go-getters
+of this world are under thirty years of age. Matt," he concluded,
+turning to his son-in-law, "what do you think of Andrews for that
+Shanghai job?"
+
+"I think he'll do."
+
+"Why do you think he'll do?"
+
+"Because he ought to do. He's been with us long enough to have acquired
+sufficient experience to enable him--"
+
+"Has he acquired the courage to tackle the job, Matt?" Cappy
+interrupted. "That's more important than this doggoned experience you
+and Skinner prate so much about."
+
+"I know nothing of his courage. I assume that he has force and
+initiative. I know he has a pleasing personality."
+
+"Well, before we send him out we ought to know whether or no he has
+force and initiative."
+
+"Then," quoth Matt Peasley, rising, "I wash my hands of the job of
+selecting Henderson's successor. You've butted in, so I suggest you name
+the lucky man."
+
+"Yes, indeed," Skinner agreed. "I'm sure it's quite beyond my poor
+abilities to uncover Andrews' force and initiative on such notice. He
+does possess sufficient force and initiative for his present job, but--"
+
+"But will he possess force and initiative when he has to make a quick
+decision six thousand miles from expert advice, and stand or fall by
+that decision? That's what we want to know, Skinner."
+
+"I suggest, sir," Mr. Skinner replied with chill politeness, "that you
+conduct the examination."
+
+"I accept the nomination, Skinner. By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet! The
+next man we send out to that Shanghai office is going to be a go-getter.
+We've had three managers go rotten on us and that's three too many."
+
+And without further ado, Cappy swung his aged legs up on to his desk and
+slid down in his swivel chair until he rested on his spine. His head
+sank on his breast and he closed his eyes.
+
+"He's framing the examination for Andrews," Matt Peasley whispered, as
+he and Skinner made their exits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+II
+
+The President emeritus of the Ricks' interests was not destined to
+uninterrupted cogitation, however. Within ten minutes his private
+exchange operator called him to the telephone.
+
+"What is it?" Cappy yelled into the transmitter.
+
+"There is a young man in the general office. His name is Mr. William E.
+Peck and he desires to see you personally."
+
+Cappy sighed. "Very well," he replied. "Have him shown in."
+
+Almost immediately the office boy ushered Mr. Peck into Cappy's
+presence. The moment he was fairly inside the door the visitor halted,
+came easily and naturally to "attention" and bowed respectfully, while
+the cool glance of his keen blue eyes held steadily the autocrat of the
+Blue Star Navigation Company.
+
+"Mr. Ricks, Peck is my name, sir--William E. Peck. Thank you, sir, for
+acceding to my request for an interview."
+
+"Ahem! Hum-m-m!" Cappy looked belligerent. "Sit down, Mr. Peck."
+
+Mr. Peck sat down, but as he crossed to the chair beside Cappy's desk,
+the old gentleman noticed that his visitor walked with a slight limp,
+and that his left forearm had been amputated half way to the elbow. To
+the observant Cappy, the American Legion button in Mr. Peck's lapel told
+the story.
+
+"Well, Mr. Peck," he queried gently, "what can I do for you?"
+
+"I've called for my job," the veteran replied briefly.
+
+"By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!" Cappy ejaculated, "you say that like a
+man who doesn't expect to be refused."
+
+"Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features rippled into
+the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen. "I am a salesman,
+Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to be true because I have
+demonstrated, over a period of five years, that I can sell my share of
+anything that has a hockable value. I have always found, however, that
+before proceeding to sell goods I had to sell the manufacturer of those
+goods something, to-wit--myself! I am about to sell myself to you."
+
+"Son," said Cappy smilingly, "you win. You've sold me already. When did
+they sell you a membership in the military forces of the United States
+of America?"
+
+"On the morning of April 7th, 1917, sir."
+
+"That clinches our sale. I soldiered with the Knights of Columbus at
+Camp Kearny myself, but when they refused to let me go abroad with my
+division my heart was broken, so I went over the hill."
+
+That little touch of the language of the line appeared to warm Mr.
+Peck's heart considerably, establishing at once a free masonry between
+them.
+
+"I was with the Portland Lumber Company, selling lumber in the Middle
+West before the war," he explained. "Uncle Sam gave me my sheepskin at
+Letter-man General Hospital last week, with half disability on my ten
+thousand dollars' worth of government insurance. Whittling my wing was a
+mere trifle, but my broken leg was a long time mending, and now it's
+shorter than it really ought to be. And I developed pneumonia with
+influenza and they found some T.B. indications after that. I've been at
+the government tuberculosis hospital at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, for a
+year. However, what's left of me is certified to be sound. I've got five
+inches chest expansion and I feel fine."
+
+"Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded.
+
+"Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my right arm. I
+can think and I can write, and even if one of my wheels is flat, I can
+hike longer and faster after an order than most. Got a job for me, Mr.
+Ricks?"
+
+"No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten years
+ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social frivolity--a place
+to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the street. Our Mr. Skinner
+is the chap you should see."
+
+"I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied, "but he
+wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the conclusion that I was
+attempting to trade him my empty sleeve. He informed me that there
+wasn't sufficient business to keep his present staff of salesmen busy,
+so then I told him I'd take anything, from stenographer up. I'm the
+champion one-handed typist of the United States Army. I can tally lumber
+and bill it. I can keep books and answer the telephone."
+
+"No encouragement, eh?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, now, son," Cappy informed his cheerful visitor confidentially,
+"you take my tip and see my son-in-law, Captain Peasley. He's high, low
+and jack-in-the-game in the shipping end of our business."
+
+"I have also interviewed Captain Peasley. He was very kind. He said he
+felt that he owed me a job, but business is so bad he couldn't make a
+place for me. He told me he is now carrying a dozen ex-service men
+merely because he hasn't the heart to let them go. I believe him."
+
+"Well, my dear boy--my dear young friend! Why do you come to me?"
+
+"Because," Mr. Peck replied smilingly, "I want you to go over their
+heads and give me a job. I don't care a hoot what it is, provided I can
+do it. If I can do it, I'll do it better than it was ever done before,
+and if I can't do that I'll quit to save you the embarrassment of firing
+me. I'm not an object of charity, but I'm scarcely the man I used to be
+and I'm four years behind the procession and have to catch up. I have
+the best of references--"
+
+"I see you have," Cappy cut in blandly, and pressed the push-button on
+his desk. Mr. Skinner entered. He glanced disapprovingly at William E.
+Peck and then turned inquiring eyes toward Cappy Ricks.
+
+"Skinner, dear boy," Cappy purred amiably, "I've been thinking over the
+proposition to send Andrews out to the Shanghai office, and I've come to
+this conclusion. We'll have to take a chance. At the present time that
+office is in charge of a stenographer, and we've got to get a manager on
+the job without further loss of time. So I'll tell you what we'll do.
+We'll send Andrews out on the next boat, but inform him that his
+position is temporary. Then if he doesn't make good out there we can
+take him back into this office, where he is a most valuable man.
+Meanwhile--ahem! hum-m-m! Harumph!--meanwhile, you'd oblige me greatly,
+Skinner, my dear boy, if you would consent to take this young man into
+your office and give him a good work-out to see the stuff he's made of.
+As a favor to me, Skinner, my dear boy, as a favor to me."
+
+Mr. Skinner, in the language of the sporting world, was down for the
+count--and knew it. Young Mr. Peck knew it too, and smiled graciously
+upon the general manager, for young Mr. Peck had been in the army, where
+one of the first great lessons to be assimilated is this: that the
+commanding general's request is always tantamount to an order.
+
+"Very well, sir," Mr. Skinner replied coldly. "Have you arranged the
+compensation to be given Mr. Peck?"
+
+Cappy threw up a deprecating hand. "That detail is entirely up to you,
+Skinner. Far be it from me to interfere in the internal administration
+of your department. Naturally you will pay Mr. Peck what he is worth and
+not a cent more." He turned to the triumphant Peck. "Now, you listen to
+me, young feller. If you think you're slipping gracefully into a good
+thing, disabuse your mind of that impression right now. You'll step
+right up to the plate, my son, and you'll hit the ball fairly on the
+nose, and you'll do it early and often. The first time you tip a foul,
+you'll be warned. The second time you do it you'll get a month's lay-off
+to think it over, and the third time you'll be out--for keeps. Do I make
+myself clear?"
+
+"You do, sir," Mr. Peck declared happily. "All I ask is fighting room
+and I'll hack my way into Mr. Skinner's heart. Thank you, Mr. Skinner,
+for consenting to take me on. I appreciate your action very, very much
+and shall endeavor to be worthy of your confidence."
+
+"Young scoundrel! In-fer-nal young scoundrel!" Cappy murmured to
+himself. "He has a sense of humor, thank God! Ah, poor old narrow-gauge
+Skinner! If that fellow ever gets a new or unconventional thought in his
+stodgy head, it'll kill him overnight. He's hopping mad right now,
+because he can't say a word in his own defense, but if he doesn't make
+hell look like a summer holiday for Mr. Bill Peck, I'm due to be
+mercifully chloroformed. Good Lord, how empty life would be if I
+couldn't butt in and raise a little riot every once in so often."
+
+Young Mr. Peck had risen and was standing at attention. "When do I
+report for duty, sir?" he queried of Mr. Skinner.
+
+"Whenever you're ready," Skinner retorted with a wintry smile. Mr. Peck
+glanced at a cheap wrist watch. "It's twelve o'clock now," he
+soliloquized aloud. "I'll pop out, wrap myself around some rations and
+report on the job at one P.M. I might just as well knock out half a
+day's pay." He glanced at Cappy Ricks and quoted:
+
+    "Count that day lost whose low descending sun
+    Finds prices shot to glory and business done for fun."
+
+Unable to maintain his composure in the face of such levity during
+office hours, Mr. Skinner withdrew, still wrapped in his sub-Antarctic
+dignity. As the door closed behind him, Mr. Peck's eyebrows went up in a
+manner indicative of apprehension.
+
+"I'm off to a bad start, Mr. Ricks," he opined.
+
+"You only asked for a start," Cappy piped back at him. "I didn't
+guarantee you a _good_ start, and I wouldn't because I can't. I can only
+drive Skinner and Matt Peasley so far--and no farther. There's always a
+point at which I quit--er--ah--William."
+
+"More familiarly known as Bill Peck, sir."
+
+"Very well, Bill." Cappy slid out to the edge of his chair and peered at
+Bill Peck balefully over the top of his spectacles. "I'll have my eye on
+you, young feller," he shrilled. "I freely acknowledge our indebtedness
+to you, but the day you get the notion in your head that this office is
+an old soldiers' home--" He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder what Skinner
+_will_ pay you?" he mused. "Oh, well," he continued, whatever it is,
+take it and say nothing and when the moment is propitious--and provided
+you've earned it--I'll intercede with the danged old relic and get you a
+raise."
+
+"Thank you very much, sir. You are most kind. Good-day, sir."
+
+And Bill Peck picked up his hat and limped out of The Presence. Scarcely
+had the door closed behind him than Mr. Skinner re-entered Cappy Ricks'
+lair. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cappy silenced him with an
+imperious finger.
+
+"Not a peep out of you, Skinner, my dear boy," he chirped amiably. "I
+know exactly what you're going to say and I admit your right to say it,
+but--as--ahem! Harumph-h-h!--now, Skinner, listen to reason. How the
+devil could you have the heart to reject that crippled ex-soldier? There
+he stood, on one sound leg, with his sleeve tucked into his coat pocket
+and on his homely face the grin of an unwhipped, unbeatable man. But
+you--blast your cold, unfeeling soul, Skinner!--looked him in the eye
+and turned him down like a drunkard turns down near-beer. Skinner, how
+_could_ you do it?"
+
+Undaunted by Cappy's admonitory finger, Mr. Skinner struck a distinctly
+defiant attitude.
+
+"There is no sentiment in business," he replied angrily. "A week ago
+last Thursday the local posts of the American Legion commenced their
+organized drive for jobs for their crippled and unemployed comrades, and
+within three days you've sawed off two hundred and nine such jobs on the
+various corporations that you control. The gang you shipped up to the
+mill in Washington has already applied for a charter for a new post to
+be known as Cappy Ricks Post No. 534. And you had experienced men
+discharged to make room for these ex-soldiers."
+
+"You bet I did," Cappy yelled triumphantly. "It's always Old Home Week
+in every logging camp and saw-mill in the Northwest for I.W.W.'s and
+revolutionary communists. I'm sick of their unauthorized strikes and
+sabotage, and by the Holy Pink-Toed Prophet, Cappy Ricks Post. No. 534,
+American Legion, is the only sort of back-fire I can think of to put the
+Wobblies on the run."
+
+"Every office and ship and retail yard could be run by a
+first-sergeant," Skinner complained. "I'm thinking of having reveille
+and retreat and bugle calls and Saturday morning inspections. I tell
+you, sir, the Ricks interests have absorbed all the old soldiers
+possible and at the present moment those interests are overflowing with
+glory. What we want are workers, not talkers. These ex-soldiers spend
+too much time fighting their battles over again."
+
+"Well, Comrade Peck is the last one I'll ask you to absorb, Skinner,"
+Cappy promised contritely. "Ever read Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads,
+Skinner?"
+
+"I have no time to read," Mr. Skinner protested.
+
+"Go up town this minute and buy a copy and read one ballad entitled
+'Tommy,'" Cappy barked. "For the good of your immortal soul," he added.
+
+"Well, Comrade Peck doesn't make a hit with me, Mr. Ricks. He applied to
+me for a job and I gave him his answer. Then he went to Captain Matt and
+was refused, so, just to demonstrate his bad taste, he went over our
+heads and induced you to pitchfork him into a job. He'll curse the day
+he was inspired to do that."
+
+"Skinner! Skinner! Look me in the eye! Do you know why I asked you to
+take on Bill Peck?"
+
+"I do. Because you're too tender-hearted for your own good."
+
+"You unimaginative dunderhead! You jibbering jackdaw! How could I reject
+a boy who simply would not be rejected? Why, I'll bet a ripe peach that
+Bill Peck was one of the doggondest finest soldiers you ever saw. He
+carries his objective. He sized you up just like that, Skinner. He
+declined to permit you to block him. Skinner, that Peck person has been
+opposed by experts. Yes, sir--experts! What kind of a job are you going
+to give him, Skinner, my dear boy?"
+
+"Andrews' job, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes, I forgot. Skinner, dear boy, haven't we got about half a
+million feet of skunk spruce to saw off on somebody?" Mr. Skinner nodded
+and Cappy continued with all the naive eagerness of one who has just
+made a marvelous discovery, which he is confident will revolutionize
+science. "Give him that stinking stuff to peddle, Skinner, and if you
+can dig up a couple of dozen carloads of red fir or bull pine in
+transit, or some short or odd-length stock, or some larch ceiling or
+flooring, or some hemlock random stock--in fact, anything the trade
+doesn't want as a gift--you get me, don't you, Skinner?"
+
+Mr. Skinner smiled his swordfish smile. "And if he fails to make
+good--_au revoir_, eh?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, although I hate to think about it. On the other
+hand, if he makes good he's to have Andrews' salary. We must be fair,
+Skinner. Whatever our faults we must always be fair." He rose and patted
+the general manager's lean shoulder. "There, there, Skinner, my boy.
+Forgive me if I've been a trifle--ah--ahem!--precipitate
+and--er--harumph-h-h! Skinner, if you put a prohibitive price on that
+skunk fir, by the Holy Pink-toed Prophet, I'll fire you! Be fair, boy,
+be fair. No dirty work, Skinner. Remember, Comrade Peck has half of his
+left forearm buried in France."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+III
+
+
+At twelve-thirty, as Cappy was hurrying up California Street to luncheon
+at the Commercial Club, he met Bill Peck limping down the sidewalk. The
+ex-soldier stopped him and handed him a card.
+
+"What do you think of that, sir?" he queried. "Isn't it a neat business
+card?"
+
+Cappy read:
+
+   +---------------------------------------------------+
+   |       RICKS LUMBER & LOGGING COMPANY              |
+   |          Lumber and its products                  |
+   |             248 California St.                    |
+   |               San Francisco.                      |
+   |                                                   |
+   | Represented by                                    |
+   | William E. Peck                                   |
+   |   If you can drive nails in it--we have it!       |
+   +---------------------------------------------------+
+
+Cappy Ricks ran a speculative thumb over Comrade Peck's business card.
+It was engraved. And copper plates or steel dies are not made in half an
+hour!
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" This was Cappy's most terrible oath and
+he never employed it unless rocked to his very foundations. "Bill, as
+one bandit to another--come clean. When did you first make up your mind
+to go to work for us?"
+
+"A week ago," Comrade Peck replied blandly.
+
+"And what was your grade when Kaiser Bill went A.W.O.L.?"
+
+"I was a buck."
+
+"I don't believe you. Didn't anybody ever offer you something better?"
+
+"Frequently. However, if I had accepted I would have had to resign the
+nicest job I ever had. There wasn't much money in it, but it was filled
+with excitement and interesting experiments. I used to disguise myself
+as a Christmas tree or a box car and pick off German sharp-shooters. I
+was known as Peck's Bad Boy. I was often tempted to quit, but whenever
+I'd reflect on the number of American lives I was saving daily, a
+commission was just a scrap of paper to me."
+
+"If you'd ever started in any other branch of the service you'd have run
+John J. Pershing down to lance corporal. Bill, listen! Have you ever had
+any experience selling skunk spruce?"
+
+Comrade Peck was plainly puzzled. He shook his head. "What sort of stock
+is it?" he asked.
+
+"Humboldt County, California, spruce, and it's coarse and stringy and
+wet and heavy and smells just like a skunk directly after using. I'm
+afraid Skinner's going to start you at the bottom--and skunk spruce is
+it.
+
+"Can you drive nails in it, Mr. Ricks?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Does anybody ever buy skunk spruce, sir?"
+
+"Oh, occasionally one of our bright young men digs up a half-wit who's
+willing to try anything once. Otherwise, of course, we would not
+continue to manufacture it. Fortunately, Bill, we have very little of
+it, but whenever our woods boss runs across a good tree he hasn't the
+heart to leave it standing, and as a result, we always have enough skunk
+spruce on hand to keep our salesmen humble."
+
+"I can sell anything--at a price," Comrade Peck replied unconcernedly,
+and continued on his way back to the office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+IV
+
+
+For two months Cappy Ricks saw nothing of Bill Peck. That enterprising
+veteran had been sent out into the Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas
+territory the moment he had familiarized himself with the numerous
+details regarding freight rates, weights and the mills he represented,
+all things which a salesman should be familiar with before he starts out
+on the road. From Salt Lake City he wired an order for two carloads of
+larch rustic and in Ogden he managed to inveigle a retail yard with
+which Mr. Skinner had been trying to do business for years, into
+sampling a carload of skunk spruce boards, random lengths and grades, at
+a dollar above the price given him by Skinner. In Arizona he worked up
+some new business in mining timbers, but it was not until he got into
+the heart of Texas that Comrade Peck really commenced to demonstrate his
+selling ability. Standard oil derricks were his specialty and he shot
+the orders in so fast that Mr. Skinner was forced to wire him for mercy
+and instruct him to devote his talent to the disposal of cedar shingles
+and siding, Douglas fir and redwood. Eventually he completed his circle
+and worked his way home, via Los Angeles, pausing however, in the San
+Joaquin Valley to sell two more carloads of skunk spruce. When this
+order was wired in, Mr. Skinner came to Cappy Ricks with the telegram.
+
+"Well, I must admit Comrade Peck can sell lumber," he announced
+grudgingly. "He has secured five new accounts and here is an order for
+two more carloads of skunk spruce. I'll have to raise his salary about
+the first of the year.
+
+"My dear Skinner, why the devil wait until the first of the year? Your
+pernicious habit of deferring the inevitable parting with money has cost
+us the services of more than one good man. You know you have to raise
+Comrade Peck's salary sooner or later, so why not do it now and smile
+like a dentifrice advertisement while you're doing it? Comrade Peck will
+feel a whole lot better as a result, and who knows? He may conclude
+you're a human being, after all, and learn to love you?"
+
+"Very well, sir. I'll give him the same salary Andrews was getting
+before Peck took over his territory."
+
+"Skinner, you make it impossible for me to refrain from showing you
+who's boss around here. He's better than Andrews, isn't he?"
+
+"I think he is, sir."
+
+"Well then, for the love of a square deal, pay him more and pay it to
+him from the first day he went to work. Get out. You make me nervous. By
+the way, how is Andrews getting along in his Shanghai job?"
+
+"He's helping the cable company pay its income tax. Cables about three
+times a week on matters he should decide for himself. Matt Peasley is
+disgusted with him."
+
+"Ah! Well, I'm not disappointed. And I suppose Matt will be in here
+before long to remind me that I was the bright boy who picked Andrews
+for the job. Well, I did, but I call upon you to remember. Skinner, when
+I'm assailed, that Andrews' appointment was temporary."
+
+"Yes, sir, it was."
+
+"Well, I suppose I'll have to cast about for his successor and beat Matt
+out of his cheap 'I told you so' triumph. I think Comrade Peck has some
+of the earmarks of a good manager for our Shanghai office, but I'll have
+to test him a little further." He looked up humorously at Mr. Skinner.
+"Skinner, my dear boy," he continued, "I'm going to have him deliver a
+blue vase."
+
+Mr. Skinner's cold features actually glowed. "Well, tip the chief of
+police and the proprietor of the store off this time and save yourself
+some money," he warned Cappy. He walked to the window and looked down
+into California Street. He continued to smile.
+
+"Yes," Cappy continued dreamily, "I think I shall give him the
+thirty-third degree. You'll agree with me, Skinner, that if he delivers
+the blue vase he'll be worth ten thousand dollars a year as our Oriental
+manager?"
+
+"I'll say he will," Mr. Skinner replied slangily.
+
+"Very well, then. Arrange matters, Skinner, so that he will be available
+for me at one o'clock, a week from Sunday. I'll attend to the other
+details."
+
+Mr. Skinner nodded. He was still chuckling when he departed for his own
+office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+V
+
+
+A week from the succeeding Saturday, Mr. Skinner did not come down to
+the office, but a telephone message from his home informed the chief
+clerk that Mr. Skinner was at home and somewhat indisposed. The chief
+clerk was to advise Mr. Peck that he, Mr. Skinner, had contemplated
+having a conference with the latter that day, but that his indisposition
+would prevent this. Mr. Skinner hoped to be feeling much better
+tomorrow, and since he was very desirous of a conference with Mr. Peck
+before the latter should depart on his next selling pilgrimage, on
+Monday, would Mr. Peck be good enough to call at Mr. Skinner's house at
+one o'clock Sunday afternoon? Mr. Peck sent back word that he would be
+there at the appointed time and was rewarded with Mr. Skinner's thanks,
+via the chief clerk.
+
+Promptly at one o'clock the following day, Bill Peck reported at the
+general manager's house. He found Mr. Skinner in bed, reading the paper
+and looking surprisingly well. He trusted Mr. Skinner felt better than
+he looked. Mr. Skinner did, and at once entered into a discussion of the
+new customers, other prospects he particularly desired Mr. Peck to
+approach, new business to be investigated, and further details without
+end. And in the midst of this conference Cappy Riggs telephoned.
+
+A portable telephone stood on a commode beside Mr. Skinner's bed, so the
+latter answered immediately. Comrade Peck watched Skinner listen
+attentively for fully two minutes, then heard him say:
+
+"Mr. Ricks, I'm terribly sorry. I'd love to do this errand for you, but
+really I'm under the weather. In fact, I'm in bed as I speak to you now.
+But Mr. Peck is here with me and I'm sure he'll be very happy to attend
+to the matter for you."
+
+"By all means," Bill Peck hastened to assure the general manager. "Who
+does Mr. Ricks want killed and where will he have the body delivered?"
+
+"Hah-hah! Hah-Hah!" Mr. Skinner had a singularly annoying, mirthless
+laugh, as if he begrudged himself such an unheard-of indulgence. "Mr.
+Peck says," he informed Cappy, "that he'll be delighted to attend to the
+matter for you. He wants to know whom you want killed and where you wish
+the body delivered. Hah-hah! Hah! Peck, Mr. Ricks will speak to you."
+
+Bill Peck took the telephone. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ricks."
+
+"Hello, old soldier. What are you doing this afternoon?"
+
+"Nothing--after I conclude my conference with Mr. Skinner. By the way,
+he has just given me a most handsome boost in salary, for which I am
+most appreciative. I feel, however, despite Mr. Skinner's graciousness,
+that you have put in a kind word for me with him, and I want to thank
+you--"
+
+"Tut, tut. Not a peep out of you, sir. Not a peep. You get nothing for
+nothing from Skinner or me. However, in view of the fact that you're
+feeling kindly toward me this afternoon, I wish you'd do a little errand
+for me. I can't send a boy and I hate to make a messenger out of
+you--er--ah--ahem! That is har-umph-h-h--!"
+
+"I have no false pride, Mr. Ricks."
+
+"Thank you, Bill. Glad you feel that way about it. Bill, I was prowling
+around town this forenoon, after church, and down in a store on Sutter
+Street, between Stockton and Powell Street, on the right hand side as
+you face Market Street, I saw a blue vase in a window. I have a weakness
+for vases, Bill. I'm a sharp on them, too. Now, this vase I saw isn't
+very expensive as vases go--in fact, I wouldn't buy it for my
+collection--but one of the finest and sweetest ladies of my acquaintance
+has the mate to that blue vase I saw in the window, and I know she'd be
+prouder than Punch if she had two of them--one for each side of her
+drawing room mantel, understand?
+
+"Now, I'm leaving from the Southern Pacific depot at eight o'clock
+tonight, bound for Santa Barbara to attend her wedding anniversary
+tomorrow night. I forget what anniversary it is, Bill, but I have been
+informed by my daughter that I'll be very much _de trop_ if I send her
+any present other than something in porcelain or China or
+Cloisonne--well, Bill, this crazy little blue vase just fills the order.
+Understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir. You feel that it would be most graceful on your part if you
+could bring this little blue vase down to Santa Barbara with you
+tonight. You have to have it tonight, because if you wait until the
+store opens on Monday the vase will reach your hostess twenty-four hours
+after her anniversary party."
+
+"Exactly, Bill. Now, I've simply got to have that vase. If I had
+discovered it yesterday I wouldn't be asking you to get it for me today,
+Bill."
+
+"Please do not make any explanations or apologies, Mr. Ricks. You have
+described the vase--no you haven't. What sort of blue is it, how tall is
+it and what is, approximately, its greatest diameter? Does it set on a
+base, or does it not? Is it a solid blue, or is it figured?"
+
+It's a Cloisonne vase, Bill--sort of old Dutch blue, or Delft, with some
+Oriental funny-business on it. I couldn't describe it exactly, but it
+has some birds and flowers on it. It's about a foot tall and four inches
+in diameter and sets on a teak-wood base."
+
+"Very well, sir. You shall have it."
+
+"And you'll deliver it to me in stateroom A, car 7, aboard the train at
+Third and Townsend Streets, at seven fifty-five tonight?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Thank you, Bill. The expense will be trifling. Collect it from the
+cashier in the morning, and tell him to charge it to my account." And
+Cappy hung up.
+
+At once Mr. Skinner took up the thread of the interrupted conference,
+and it was not until three o'clock that Bill Peck left his house and
+proceeded downtown to locate Cappy Rick's blue vase.
+
+He proceeded to the block in Sutter Street between Stockton and Powell
+Streets, and although he walked patiently up one side of the street and
+down the other, not a single vase of any description showed in any shop
+window, nor could he find a single shop where such a vase as Cappy had
+described might, perchance, be displayed for sale.
+
+"I think the old boy has erred in the co-ordinates of the target," Bill
+Peck concluded, "or else I misunderstood him. I'll telephone his house
+and ask him to repeat them."
+
+He did, but nobody was at home except a Swedish maid, and all she knew
+was that Mr. Ricks was out and the hour of his return was unknown. So
+Mr. Peck went back to Sutter Street and scoured once more every shop
+window in the block. Then he scouted two blocks above Powell and two
+blocks below Stockton. Still the blue vase remained invisible.
+
+So he transferred his search to a corresponding area on Bush Street, and
+when that failed, he went painstakingly over four blocks of Post Street.
+He was still without results when he moved one block further west and
+one further south and discovered the blue vase in a huge plate-glass
+window of a shop on Geary Street near Grant Avenue. He surveyed it
+critically and was convinced that it was the object he sought.
+
+He tried the door, but it was locked, as he had anticipated it would be.
+So he kicked the door and raised an infernal racket, hoping against hope
+that the noise might bring a watchman from the rear of the building. In
+vain. He backed out to the edge of the sidewalk and read the sign over
+the door:
+
+    B. Cohen's Art Shop
+
+This was a start, so Mr. Peck limped over to the Palace Hotel and
+procured a telephone directory. By actual count there were nineteen B.
+Cohens scattered throughout the city, so before commencing to call the
+nineteen, Bill Peck borrowed the city directory from the hotel clerk and
+scanned it for the particular B. Cohen who owned the art shop. His
+search availed him nothing. B. Cohen was listed as an art dealer at the
+address where the blue vase reposed in the show window. That was all.
+
+"I suppose he's a commuter," Mr. Peck concluded, and at once proceeded
+to procure directories of the adjacent cities of Berkeley, Oakland and
+Alameda. They were not available, so in despair he changed a dollar into
+five cent pieces, sought a telephone booth and commenced calling up all
+the B. Cohens in San Francisco. Of the nineteen, four did not answer,
+three were temporarily disconnected, six replied in Yiddish, five were
+not the B. Cohen he sought, and one swore he was Irish and that his name
+was spelled Cohan and pronounced with an accent on both syllables.
+
+The B. Cohens resident in Berkeley, Oakland, Alameda, San Rafael,
+Sausalito, Mill Valley, San Mateo, Redwood City and Palo Alto were next
+telephoned to, and when this long and expensive task was done,
+Ex-Private Bill Peck emerged from the telephone booth wringing wet with
+perspiration and as irritable as a clucking hen. Once outside the hotel
+he raised his haggard face to heaven and dumbly queried of the Almighty
+what He meant by saving him from quick death on the field of honor only
+to condemn him to be talked to death by B. Cohens in civil life.
+
+It was now six o'clock. Suddenly Peck had an inspiration. Was the name
+spelled Cohen, Cohan, Cohn, Kohn or Coen?
+
+"If I have to take a Jewish census again tonight I'll die," he told
+himself desperately, and went back to the art shop.
+
+The sign read: B. COHN'S ART SHOP.
+
+"I wish I knew a bootlegger's joint," poor Peck complained. "I'm pretty
+far gone and a little wood alcohol couldn't hurt me much now. Why, I
+could have sworn that name was spelled with an E. It seems to me I noted
+that particularly."
+
+He went back to the hotel telephone booth and commenced calling up all
+the B. Cohns in town. There were eight of them and six of them were out,
+one was maudlin with liquor and the other was very deaf and shouted
+unintelligibly.
+
+"Peace hath its barbarities no less than war," Mr. Peck sighed. He
+changed a twenty-dollar bill into nickles, dimes and quarters, returned
+to the hot, ill-smelling telephone booth and proceeded to lay down a
+barrage of telephone calls to the B. Cohns of all towns of any
+importance contiguous to San Francisco Bay. And he was lucky. On the
+sixth call he located the particular B. Cohn in San Rafael, only to be
+informed by Mr. Cohn's cook that Mr. Cohn was dining at the home of a
+Mr. Simons in Mill Valley.
+
+There were three Mr. Simons in Mill Valley, and Peck called them all
+before connecting with the right one. Yes, Mr. B. Cohn was there. Who
+wished to speak to him? Mr. Heck? Oh, Mr. Lake! A silence. Then--Mr.
+Cohn says he doesn't know any Mr. Lake and wants to know the nature of
+your business. He is dining and doesn't like to be disturbed unless the
+matter is of grave importance."
+
+"Tell him Mr. Peck wishes to speak to him on a matter of very great
+importance," wailed the ex-private.
+
+"Mr. Metz? Mr. Ben Metz?
+
+"No, no, no. Peck--p-e-c-k."
+
+"D-e-c-k?"
+
+"No, P."
+
+"C?"
+
+"P."
+
+"Oh, yes, E. E-what?"
+
+"C-K--"
+
+"Oh, yes, Mr. Eckstein."
+
+"Call Cohn to the 'phone or I'll go over there on the next boat and kill
+you, you damned idiot," shrieked Peck. "Tell him his store is on fire."
+
+That message was evidently delivered for almost instantly Mr. B. Cohn
+was puffing and spluttering into the phone.
+
+"Iss dot der fire marshal?" he managed to articulate.
+
+"Listen, Mr. Cohn. Your store is not on fire, but I had to say so in
+order to get you to the telephone. I am Mr. Peck, a total stranger to
+you. You have a blue vase in your shop window on Geary Street in San
+Francisco. I want to buy it and I want to buy it before seven forty-five
+tonight. I want you to come across the bay and open the store and sell
+me that vase."
+
+"Such a business! Vot you think I am? Crazy?"
+
+"No, Mr. Cohn, I do not. I'm the only crazy man talking. I'm crazy for
+that vase and I've got to have it right away."
+
+"You know vot dot vase costs?" Mr. B. Cohn's voice dripped syrup.
+
+"No, and I don't give a hoot what it costs. I want what I want when I
+want it. Do I get it?"
+
+"Ve-ell, lemme see. Vot time iss it?" A silence while B. Cohn evidently
+looked at his watch. "It iss now a quarter of seven, Mr. Eckstein, und
+der nexd drain from Mill Valley don't leaf until eight o'clock. Dot vill
+get me to San Francisco at eight-fifty--und I am dining mit friends und
+haf just finished my soup."
+
+"To hell with your soup. I want that blue vase."
+
+"Vell, I tell you, Mr. Eckstein, if you got to have it, call up my head
+salesman, Herman Joost, in der Chilton Apardments--Prospect
+three--two--four--nine, und tell him I said he should come down right
+avay qvick und sell you dot blue vase. Goodbye, Mr. Eckstein."
+
+And B. Cohn hung up.
+
+Instantly Peck called Prospect 3249 and asked for Herman Joost. Mr.
+Joost's mother answered. She was desolated because Herman was not at
+home, but vouchsafed the information that he was dining at the country
+club. Which country club? She did not know. So Peck procured from the
+hotel clerk a list of the country clubs in and around San Francisco and
+started calling them up. At eight o'clock he was still being informed
+that Mr. Juice was not a member, that Mr. Luce wasn't in, that Mr. Coos
+had been dead three months and that Mr. Boos had played but eight holes
+when he received a telegram calling him back to New York. At the other
+clubs Mr. Joust was unknown.
+
+"Licked," murmured Bill Peck, "but never let it be said that I didn't go
+down fighting. I'm going to heave a brick through that show window, grab
+the vase and run with it."
+
+He engaged a taxicab and instructed the driver to wait for him at the
+corner of Geary and Stockton Streets. Also, he borrowed from the
+chauffeur a ball peen hammer. When he reached the art shop of B. Cohn,
+however, a policeman was standing in the doorway, violating the general
+orders of a policeman on duty by surreptitiously smoking a cigar.
+
+"He'll nab me if I crack that window," the desperate Peck decided, and
+continued on down the street, crossed to the other side and came back.
+It was now dark and over the art shop B. Cohn's name burned in small
+red, white and blue electric lights.
+
+And lo, it was spelled B. Cohen!
+
+Ex-private William E. Peck sat down on a fire hydrant and cursed with
+rage. His weak leg hurt him, too, and for some damnable reason, the
+stump of his left arm developed the feeling that his missing hand was
+itchy.
+
+"The world is filled with idiots," he raved furiously. "I'm tired and
+I'm hungry. I skipped luncheon and I've been too busy to think of
+dinner."
+
+He walked back to his taxicab and returned to the hotel where, hope
+springing eternal in his breast, he called Prospect 3249 again and
+discovered that the missing Herman Joost had returned to the bosom of
+his family. To him the frantic Peck delivered the message of B. Cohn,
+whereupon the cautious Herman Joost replied that he would confirm the
+authenticity of the message by telephoning to Mr. Cohn at Mr. Simon's
+home in Mill Valley. If Mr. B. Cohn or Cohen confirmed Mr. Kek's story
+he, the said Herman Joost, would be at the store sometime before nine
+o'clock, and if Mr. Kek cared to, he might await him there.
+
+Mr. Kek said he would be delighted to wait for him there.
+
+At nine-fifteen Herman Joost appeared on the scene. On his way down the
+street he had taken the precaution to pick up a policeman and bring him
+along with him. The lights were switched on in the store and Mr. Joost
+lovingly abstracted the blue vase from the window.
+
+"What's the cursed thing worth?" Peck demanded.
+
+"Two thousand dollars," Mr. Joost replied without so much as the quiver
+of an eyelash. "Cash," he added, apparently as an afterthought.
+
+The exhausted Peck leaned against the sturdy guardian of the law and
+sighed. This was the final straw. He had about ten dollars in his
+possession.
+
+"You refuse, absolutely, to accept my check?" he quavered.
+
+"I don't know you, Mr. Peck," Herman Joost replied simply.
+
+"Where's your telephone?"
+
+Mr. Joost led Peck to the telephone and the latter called up Mr.
+Skinner.
+
+"Mr. Skinner," he announced, "this is all that is mortal of Bill Peck
+speaking. I've got the store open and for two thousand dollars--cash--I
+can buy the blue vase Mr. Ricks has set his heart upon."
+
+"Oh, Peck, dear fellow," Mr. Skinner purred sympathetically. "Have you
+been all this time on that errand?"
+
+"I have. And I'm going to stick on the job until I deliver the goods.
+For God's sake let me have two thousand dollars and bring it down to me
+at B. Cohen's Art Shop on Geary Street near Grant Avenue. I'm too
+utterly exhausted to go up after it."
+
+"My dear Mr. Peck, I haven't two thousand dollars in my house. That is
+too great a sum of money to keep on hand."
+
+"Well, then, come downtown, open up the office safe and get the money
+for me."
+
+"Time lock on the office safe, Peck. Impossible."
+
+"Well then, come downtown and identify me at hotels and cafes and
+restaurants so I can cash my own check."
+
+"Is your check good, Mr. Peck?"
+
+The flood of invective which had been accumulating in Mr. Peck's system
+all the afternoon now broke its bounds. He screamed at Mr. Skinner a
+blasphemous invitation to betake himself to the lower regions.
+
+"Tomorrow morning," he promised hoarsely, "I'll beat you to death with
+the stump of my left arm, you miserable, cold-blooded, lazy, shiftless
+slacker."
+
+He called up Cappy Ricks' residence next, and asked for Captain Matt
+Peasley, who, he knew, made his home with his father-in-law. Matt
+Peasley came to the telephone and listened sympathetically to Peck's
+tale of woe.
+
+"Peck, that's the worst outrage I ever heard of," he declared. "The idea
+of setting you such a task. You take my advice and forget the blue
+vase."
+
+"I can't," Peck panted. "Mr. Ricks will feel mighty chagrined if I fail
+to get the vase to him. I wouldn't disappoint him for my right arm. He's
+been a dead game sport with me, Captain Peasley."
+
+"But it's too late to get the vase to him, Peck. He left the city at
+eight o'clock and it is now almost half past nine."
+
+"I know, but if I can secure legal possession of the vase I'll get it to
+him before he leaves the train at Santa Barbara at six o'clock tomorrow
+morning."
+
+"How?"
+
+"There's a flying school out at the Marina and one of the pilots there
+is a friend of mine. He'll fly to Santa Barbara with me and the vase."
+
+"You're crazy."
+
+"I know it. Please lend me two thousand dollars."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To pay for the vase."
+
+"Now I know you're crazy--or drunk. Why if Cappy Ricks ever forgot
+himself to the extent of paying two hundred dollars for a vase he'd
+bleed to death in an hour."
+
+"Won't you let me have two thousand dollars, Captain Peasley?"
+
+"I will not, Peck, old son. Go home and to bed and forget it."
+
+"Please. You can cash your checks. You're known so much better than I,
+and it's Sunday night--"
+
+"And it's a fine way to keep holy the Sabbath day," Matt Peasley
+retorted and hung up.
+
+"Well," Herman Joost queried, "do we stay here all night?"
+
+Bill Peck bowed his head. "Look here," he demanded suddenly, "do you
+know a good diamond when you see it?"
+
+"I do," Herman Joost replied.
+
+"Will you wait here until I go to my hotel and get one?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+Bill Peck limped painfully away. Forty minutes later he returned with a
+platinum ring set with diamonds and sapphires.
+
+"What are they worth?" he demanded.
+
+Herman Joost looked the ring over lovingly and appraised it
+conservatively at twenty-five hundred dollars.
+
+"Take it as security for the payment of my check," Peck pleaded. "Give
+me a receipt for it and after my check has gone through clearing I'll
+come back and get the ring."
+
+Fifteen minutes later, with the blue vase packed in excelsior and
+reposing in a stout cardboard box, Bill Peck entered a restaurant and
+ordered dinner. When he had dined he engaged a taxi and was driven to
+the flying field at the Marina. From the night watchman he ascertained
+the address of his pilot friend and at midnight, with his friend at the
+wheel, Bill Peck and his blue vase soared up into the moonlight and
+headed south.
+
+An hour and a half later they landed in a stubble field in the Salinas
+Valley and, bidding his friend good-bye, Bill Peck trudged across to the
+railroad track and sat down. When the train bearing Cappy Ricks came
+roaring down the valley, Peck twisted a Sunday paper with which he had
+provided himself, into an improvised torch, which he lighted. Standing
+between the rails he swung the flaming paper frantically.
+
+The train slid to a halt, a brakeman opened a vestibule door, and Bill
+Peck stepped wearily aboard.
+
+"What do you mean by flagging this train?" the brakeman demanded
+angrily, as he signaled the engineer to proceed. "Got a ticket?"
+
+"No, but I've got the money to pay my way. And I flagged this train
+because I wanted to change my method of travel. I'm looking for a man in
+stateroom A of car 7, and if you try to block me there'll be murder
+done."
+
+"That's right. Take advantage of your half-portion arm and abuse me,"
+the brakeman retorted bitterly. "Are you looking for that little old man
+with the Henry Clay collar and the white mutton-chop whiskers?"
+
+"I certainly am."
+
+"Well, he was looking for you just before we left San Francisco. He
+asked me if I had seen a one-armed man with a box under his good arm.
+I'll lead you to him."
+
+A prolonged ringing at Cappy's stateroom door brought the old gentleman
+to the entrance in his nightshirt.
+
+"Very sorry to have to disturb you, Mr. Ricks," said Bill Peck, "but the
+fact is there were so many Cohens and Cohns and Cohans, and it was such
+a job to dig up two thousand dollars, that I failed to connect with you
+at seven forty-five last night, as per orders. It was absolutely
+impossible for me to accomplish the task within the time limit set, but
+I was resolved that you should not be disappointed. Here is the vase.
+The shop wasn't within four blocks of where you thought it was, sir, but
+I'm sure I found the right vase. It ought to be. It cost enough and was
+hard enough to get, so it should be precious enough to form a gift for
+any friend of yours."
+
+Cappy Ricks stared at Bill Peck as if the latter were a wraith.
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" he murmured. "By the Holy Pink-toed
+Prophet! We changed the sign on you and we stacked the Cohens on you and
+we set a policeman to guard the shop to keep you from breaking the
+window, and we made you dig up two thousand dollars on Sunday night in a
+town where you are practically unknown, and while you missed the train
+at eight o'clock, you overtake it at two o'clock in the morning and
+deliver the blue vase. Come in and rest your poor old game leg, Bill.
+Brake-man, I'm much obliged to you."
+
+Bill Peck entered and slumped wearily down on the settee. "So it was a
+plant?" he cracked, and his voice trembled with rage. "Well, sir, you're
+an old man and you've been good to me, so I do not begrudge you your
+little joke, but Mr. Ricks, I can't stand things like I used to. My leg
+hurts and my stump hurts and my heart hurts----"
+
+He paused, choking, and the tears of impotent rage filled his eyes. "You
+shouldn't treat me that way, sir," he complained presently. "I've been
+trained not to question orders, even when they seem utterly foolish to
+me; I've been trained to obey them--on time, if possible, but if
+impossible, to obey them anyhow. I've been taught loyalty to my
+chief--and I'm sorry my chief found it necessary to make a buffoon of
+me. I haven't had a very good time the past three years and--and--you
+can--pa-pa-pass your skunk spruce and larch rustic and short odd length
+stock to some slacker like Skinner--and you'd better--arrange--to
+replace--Skinner, because he's young--enough to--take a beating--and I'm
+going to--give it to him--and it'll be a hospital--job--sir--"
+
+Cappy Ricks ruffled Bill Peck's aching head with a paternal hand.
+
+"Bill, old boy, it was cruel--damnably cruel, but I had a big job for
+you and I had to find out a lot of things about you before I entrusted
+you with that job. So I arranged to give you the Degree of the Blue
+Vase, which is the supreme test of a go-getter. You thought you carried
+into this stateroom a two thousand dollar vase, but between ourselves,
+what you really carried in was a ten thousand dollar job as our Shanghai
+manager."
+
+"Wha--what!"
+
+"Every time I have to pick out a permanent holder of a job worth ten
+thousand dollars, or more, I give the candidate the Degree of the Blue
+Vase," Cappy explained. "I've had two men out of a field of fifteen
+deliver the vase, Bill."
+
+Bill Peck had forgotten his rage, but the tears of his recent fury still
+glistened in his bold blue eyes. "Thank you, sir. I forgive you--and
+I'll make good in Shanghai."
+
+"I know you will, Bill. Now, tell me, son, weren't you tempted to quit
+when you discovered the almost insuperable obstacles I'd placed in your
+way?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I was. I wanted to commit suicide before I'd finished
+telephoning all the C-o-h-e-n-s in the world. And when I started on the
+C-o-h-n-s--well, it's this way, sir. I just couldn't quit because that
+would have been disloyal to a man I once knew."
+
+"Who was he?" Cappy demanded, and there was awe in his voice.
+
+"He was my brigadier, and he had a brigade motto: It shall be done. When
+the divisional commander called him up and told him to move forward with
+his brigade and occupy certain territory, our brigadier would say: 'Very
+well, sir. It shall be done.' If any officer in his brigade showed signs
+of flunking his job because it appeared impossible, the brigadier would
+just look at him once--and then that officer would remember the motto
+and go and do his job or die trying.
+
+"In the army, sir, the _esprit de corps_ doesn't bubble up from the
+bottom. It filters down from the top. An organization is what its
+commanding officer is--neither better nor worse. In my company, when the
+top sergeant handed out a week of kitchen police to a buck, that buck
+was out of luck if he couldn't muster a grin and say: 'All right,
+sergeant. It shall be done.'
+
+"The brigadier sent for me once and ordered me to go out and get a
+certain German sniper. I'd been pretty lucky--some days I got enough for
+a mess--and he'd heard of me. He opened a map and said to me: 'Here's
+about where he holes up. Go get him, Private Peck.' Well, Mr. Ricks, I
+snapped into it and gave him a rifle salute, and said, 'Sir, it shall be
+done'--and I'll never forget the look that man gave me. He came down to
+the field hospital to see me after I'd walked into one of those Austrian
+88's. I knew my left wing was a total loss and I suspected my left leg
+was about to leave me, and I was downhearted and wanted to die. He came
+and bucked me up. He said: 'Why, Private Peck, you aren't half dead. In
+civil life you're going to be worth half a dozen live ones--aren't you?'
+But I was pretty far gone and I told him I didn't believe it, so he gave
+me a hard look and said: 'Private Peck will do his utmost to recover and
+as a starter he will smile.' Of course, putting it in the form of an
+order, I had to give him the usual reply, so I grinned and said: 'Sir,
+it shall be done.' He was quite a man, sir, and his brigade had a
+soul--his soul----"
+
+"I see, Bill. And his soul goes marching on, eh? Who was he, Bill?"
+
+Bill Peck named his idol.
+
+"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" There was awe in Cappy Ricks' voice,
+there was reverence in his faded old eyes. "Son," he continued gently,
+"twenty-five years ago your brigadier was a candidate for an important job
+in my employ--and I gave him the Degree of the Blue Vase. He couldn't
+get the vase legitimately, so he threw a cobble-stone through the
+window, grabbed the vase and ran a mile and a half before the police
+captured him. Cost me a lot of money to square the case and keep it
+quiet. But he was too good, Bill, and I couldn't stand in his way; I let
+him go forward to his destiny. But tell me, Bill. How did you get the
+two thousand dollars to pay for this vase?"
+
+"Once," said ex-Private Peck thoughtfully, "the brigadier and I were
+first at a dug-out entrance. It was a headquarters dug-out and they
+wouldn't surrender, so I bombed them and then we went down. I found a
+finger with a ring on it--and the brigadier said if I didn't take the
+ring somebody else would. I left that ring as security for my check."
+
+"But how could you have the courage to let me in for a two thousand
+dollar vase? Didn't you realize that the price was absurd and that I
+might repudiate the transaction?"
+
+"Certainly not. You are responsible for the acts of your servant. You
+are a true blue sport and would never repudiate my action. You told me
+what to do, but you did not insult my intelligence by telling me how to
+do it. When my late brigadier sent me after the German sniper he didn't
+take into consideration the probability that the sniper might get me. He
+told me to get the sniper. It was my business to see to it that I
+accomplished my mission and carried my objective, which, of course, I
+could not have done if I had permitted the German to get me."
+
+"I see, Bill. Well, give that blue vase to the porter in the morning. I
+paid fifteen cents for it in a five, ten and fifteen cent store.
+Meanwhile, hop into that upper berth and help yourself to a well-earned
+rest."
+
+"But aren't you going to a wedding anniversary at Santa Barbara, Mr.
+Ricks?"
+
+"I am not. Bill, I discovered a long time ago that it's a good idea for
+me to get out of town and play golf as often as I can. Besides which,
+prudence dictates that I remain away from the office for a week after
+the seeker of blue vases fails to deliver the goods and--by the way,
+Bill, what sort of a game do you play? Oh, forgive me, Bill. I forgot
+about your left arm."
+
+"Say, look here, sir," Bill Peck retorted, I'm big enough and ugly
+enough to play one-handed golf."
+
+"But, have you ever tried it?"
+
+"No, sir," Bill Peck replied seriously, "but--it shall be done!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Go-Getter, by Peter B. Kyne
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