After we had finished dinner, all of the party came back to our "road club room," the smoker.

"The house," said the furnishing goods man, sailing on our old tack of conversation, "sometimes makes it hard for us, you know. I once had a case like this: One of my customers down in New Orleans had failed on me. I think his muhulla (failure) was forced upon him. Even a tricky merchant does not bring failure upon himself if business is good and he can help it, because, if he has ever been through one, he knows that the bust-up does him a great deal more harm than good. It makes 'credit' hard for him after that. But, you find lots of merchants who, when business gets dull, and they must fail, will either skin their creditors completely or else settle for as few cents on the dollar as possible.

"Well, I had a man in market, once, when I was traveling out of Philadelphia, who had 'settled' for 35 cents on the dollar. He had come out of his failure with enough to leave him able to go into business again, and, with anything like fair trade, discount all his bills. I knew the season was a fairly good one and felt quite sure that, for a few years anyway, my man would be good. What was lost on him was lost, and that was the end of it. The best way to play even was on the profits of future business.

"But our credit man, a most upright gentleman, wasn't particular about taking up the account again. However, there I was on a commission basis! I knew the man would pay for his goods and that it was money in my pocket—and in the till of the house—to sell it.

"I had seen my man at the hotel the evening before and he'd said he would be around the next morning about ten o'clock. I went down to the store before that time and talked the thing over with the credit man.

"Don't want to have anything to do with that fellow,' he said. 'He skinned us once and it's only a matter of time until he'll do it again.'

"The head man of the firm came by about that time and I talked it over with him. He had told me only the day before that he had some 'jobs' he was very anxious to get rid of.

"'Now,' said I to him, 'I believe I have a man from New Orleans who can use a good deal of that plunder up on the sixth floor if you're willing to sell it to him. He uses that kind of "Drek" and is now shaped up so that he'll not wish for more than sixty day terms, and I'm sure he'd be able to pay for it. He's just failed, you know.'

"Well, let him have it—let him have it,' said the old man. 'Anything to get the stuff out of the house. If he doesn't pay for it we won't lose much.'

"'All right, if you both say so, I'll go ahead and sell him.'

"This was really building a credit on 'jobs,' for I believed that my man would after that prove a faithful customer,—and this has been the case for many years.

"Well, when he came in, I took him up to the 'job' floor and sold him about five hundred dollars. This was the limit that the credit man had placed on the account. Then came the rub. I had to smooth down my customer to sixty day terms and yet keep him in a good humor. He thought a great deal of me—I had always been square with him—and he wasn't such a bad fellow. He had merely done what many other men would have done under the same circumstances. When he had got into the hole, he was going to climb out with as many 'rocks' in his pocket as he could. He couldn't pay a hundred cents and keep doing business, and it was just as much disgrace to settle for sixty cents on the dollar, which would leave him flat, as it was to settle for thirty-five. So he argued!

"I brought him up to the credit window and said to the credit man— Gee! I had to be diplomatic then—'Now, this is Mr. Man from New Orleans. You know that cotton has been pretty low for the past season and that he has had a little misfortune that often comes into the path of the business man. He, you also know, has squared this with everybody concerned in an honorable way,—although on account of the dull times he was unable to make as large a settlement as he wished to—isn't that the case, Joe?' said I. He nodded.

"'Yes, but things are picking up with me, you know,' said he.

"'Yes; so they are,' said I, taking up the thread, 'cotton is advancing and times are going to be pretty good down in the south next season. Now, what I've done,' said I to the credit man, as if I had never spoken to him about the matter before, 'is this: Joe, here, has learned a lesson. He has seen the folly, and suffered for it, of buying so many goods so far ahead. What he aims to do from this time on is to run a strictly cash business, and to buy his goods for cash or on very short terms. We have picked out five hundred dollars' worth of goods—I've closed them pretty cheap—and you shall have your money for this, the bill fully discounted, within sixty days. Then in future, Joe, here, does not wish to buy anything from you or anybody else that he cannot pay for within that time. One bump on the head is enough, eh, Joe?'

"'Yes; you bet your life. I've learned a lesson.'

"'That'll be very satisfactory, sir,' said the credit man, and everything was O. K. You see, I had put the credit man in the position of making short terms and I had tickled Joe and given him something that he needed very badly at that time—credit. This was about the smoothest job I think I ever did. I really don't believe that either the credit man or my customer was fully onto my work. Joe, however, has thanked me for that many a time since. He's paid up my house promptly and used them for reference. They could only tell the truth in the matter, that he was discounting his bills with them. This has given him credit and he's doing a thriving business now, and has been for several years. He is getting long time again from other houses."

"Smooth work all right," said one of the boys, touching the button for the buffet porter.

"Once in a while," said the book man, "you have to pull the wool over a buyer's eyes. I never like to do anything of this sort, and I never do but that I tell them about it afterwards. The straight path is the one for the traveling man to walk in, I know; but once, with one of my men, I had to get off of the pebbles and tread on the grass a little.

"We really sell our publications for less than any other concern in the country. We give fifty off, straight, to save figuring, while many others give 40-10-5, which, added up, makes 55, but, in truth, is less than fifty straight. Once, in Chicago, I fell in on a department store man. I put it up to him and asked him if he would like certain new books that were having a good sale.

"'Yes,' he said, 'but I tell you, John (he knew me pretty well), I can't stand your discounts. You don't let me make enough money. You only give me 50 while others give me 40-10-5.'

"'All right, I'll sell them to you that way,' said I. 'We won't worry about it.'

"'Very good then,' and he gave me his order.

"Next season, when I got around to him, I had forgotten all about the special terms that I had made this man. But after he said he would use a certain number of copies of a book, he jogged my memory on that score with the question:

"'What sort of terms are you going to give me—the same I had last year?'

"'No, sir; I will not,' said I. 'I'm not going to do business with you that way.'

"'Well, if you've done it once, why don't you do it again? Other people do it right along, and your house is still in business. They haven't gone broke.'

"'Yes, you bet your life they're still in business!' said I, 'and they'd make a whole lot more money than they do now if they'd do business on the terms that you ask. Do you know what I did? You wouldn't let me have things my way and be square with you, so I skinned you on that little express order out of just ninety cents, and did it just to teach you a lesson!' I said, planking down a dollar. 'I don't want to trim you too close to the bone.'

"'Well,' said he, after I'd figured out and shown him the difference between 50 off straight and 40-10-5, 'This dollar doesn't belong to me. Come on, let's spend it.'"

"That's pretty good," chimed in the shoe man, who was sitting on a camp stool. The smoking compartment was full. "But it was dangerous play, don't you think? Suppose he'd done that figuring before you'd got around and shown him voluntarily that you skinned him and why. I know one of my customers, at any rate, who would have turned you down for good on this sort of a deal. He is a fair, square, frank man—most merchants, I find, are that way anyhow."

"Yes; you're right," said John.

"I got at the man I speak of this way," said the shoe man. "I had called on him many times. He was such a thoroughbred gentleman and treated me so courteously that I could never press matters upon him. There are merchants, you know, of this kind. I'd really rather have a man spar me with bare 'knucks' than with eight-ounce pillows. This gives you a better chance to land a knock-out blow. But there is a way of getting at every merchant in the world. The thing to do is to find the way.

"As I stood talking to this gentleman—it was out in Seattle—in came a Salvation Army girl selling 'The War Cry.' When she came around where I was, my merchant friend gave her a quarter for one, and told her to keep the change. Do you know, I sized him up from that. It showed me just as plain as day that he was kind hearted and it struck me, quick as a flash, that my play was generosity. People somehow who are free at heart admire this trait in others. When a man has once been liberal and knows what a good feeling it gives him on the inside, to do a good turn for some poor devil that needs it, he will always keep it up, and he has a soft spot in his heart for the man who will dig up for charity.

"I didn't plank down my money with any attempt to make a show, but I simply slipped a dollar into the Salvation Army Captain's hand, and said, 'Sister, the War Cry is worth that much to me. I always read it and I'm really very glad you brought this copy around to me.'

"Now, this wasn't altogether play, boys, you know. If there is any one in the world who is a true and literal Christian, it is the girl who wears the Salvation Army bonnet. And to just give your money isn't always the thing. A little kind word to go along with it multiplies the gift.

"After a while, when I got around to it—I talked with the merchant for some time about various things—I said, as politely as I could: 'Now, you know your affairs a great deal better than I do myself, but it is barely possible that I might have something in my line that would interest you. My house is old established and they do business in a straightforward manner. If you can spare the time, I should be very glad indeed to have you see what I am carrying. I assure you that I shall not bore you in the sample room. I never do this because I don't like to have any one feel I'm attempting to know more of his affairs than he does.'

"'If such were the case,' said my merchant friend, 'why, then, I ought to sell out to you.'

"'Then you are right,' said I. 'Nothing bothers me more, on going into a barber shop when I'm in a rush and wish nothing but a shave, than to have the barber insist on cutting my hair, singing it, giving me a shampoo, and a face massage.'

"'Well, I don't think I'm needing anything just now,' said my merchant friend. 'But as you're here, I'll run down and see you right after luncheon. 'No,' said he, pulling out his watch, 'I might as well go with you right now. It is half past eleven and that will give you all the afternoon free.'

"'Very well,' said I, 'this is kind of you. I am at your service.'

"It was considerate of him to go along with me right then, for the time of a traveling man relatively is more valuable than that of any other man I know of. In many lines he must make his living in four to six months in the year. Every minute of daylight, when he is on the road, means to him just twice that time or more!

"Do you know, I never had in my sample room a finer man. He very quickly looked over what I had and when he said to me, 'Do you know, I'm really glad that I've come down with you. You have some things that strike me. I hadn't intended putting in any more goods for this season, but here are a few numbers that I'm sure I can use. I can't give you a very large order. However, if you're willing to take what I wish, I shall be very glad to give you a small one; but if your goods turn out all right, and this I have no right to question, we shall do more business in future.'

"I took the order, which wasn't such a small one, either, and from that time on he has always been a pleasant customer. He was a gentleman-merchant!"

"He's the kind that always gets the best that's coming," broke in two or three of the boys at once.

"Yes, you bet your life!" exclaimed the shoe man. "If a man wishes to get the best I have, that is the way I like him to come at me. To be sure, I do a one price business; but even then, you know, we can all do a man a good turn if he makes us have an interest in his business by treating us courteously. We can serve him by helping him select the best things in our lines, and by not overloading him."

"Many's the way," said the dry goods man, "that we have of getting a man's ear. In '96 I was traveling in Western Nebraska. That state, you know, is Bryan's home. Things were mighty hot out there in September, and nearly everybody in that part of the country was for him; but when you did strike one that was on the other side, he was there good and hard! Yet, most of those who were against Bryan by the time September rolled around were beginning to think that he was going to win out. I had just left Chicago and had been attending a great many Republican political meetings. I had read the Chicago newspapers, all of which were against Bryan that year, and thought that while there was a good deal of hurrah going on, he didn't stand a ghost of a show, and I was willing to bet my money on it.

"I didn't have a customer in this town. It was Beaver City. You know how the stores are all built around three sides of a public square. I was out scouting for a looker. I dropped into one man's store—he was a Republican, but he said to me, 'Heavens alive! How do you expect me to buy any goods this year? Why, Bryan's going to be elected sure's your born, and this whole country is going to the devil. I'm a Republican and working against him as hard as I can, but I'm not going to get myself in debt and go broke all the same.

"'The only man in this town who thinks Bryan isn't going to win is old man Jarvis across the way. If he keeps on buying and things come out the way I think they will, I'll have one less competitor when things all blow over.'

"I looked in my agency book. As a rule, they're not worth a rap for anything except to give the names of merchants in a town and the sort of business they're in, but when I got down to the J's I saw that Jarvis was rated ten to twenty thousand. I stuck the book in my pocket and made straight for where I saw his name over the door.

"First thing he boned me about was, 'Well, how's the election going in
Illinois and back East?'

"'Oh, Bryan will be put under a snow bank so deep he'll never get out,' said I, 'when November gets here.'

"'Good!' said he. 'You're the first man I've seen for a month who's agreed with me. I don't think he'll run one, two, three. These fellows out here in this country are all crazy because Bryan's come from this state; and a few hayseed Populists who've always been Republican heretofore are going to vote for him. Shucks! They don't amount to anything. It's the East that settles an election, and the working man. Why, they're not going to see this country go to the devil because a few of these crazy Pops out here are going to vote the Democratic ticket!'

"The druggist from next door, who overheard the old man, spoke up hotly and said, 'Well, I'm one of them crazy Pops you're talking about. You haven't any money that says Bryan's goin' to lose, have you?'

"'Well, I'm not a betting man,' said Jarvis, 'but if I was, I'd put up my store against yours,—the building and all against your stock.'

"'Well, I wish you were a betting man,' said the druggist. 'You'd better either put up or shut up. I'll jest bet you ten dollars even that Bryan does win.'

"'I'll take that bet, my friend,' said I, knowing that the effect of the wager on Jarvis would be worth more than the bet itself. I reached for my roll of expense money—I had about two hundred dollars on me— and slipped out a 'tenner.' The druggist went in next door and got his money. The old man held the stakes.

"I was the only man who'd been in that town for a long time who was willing to bet on McKinley, and pretty soon a dozen fellows were after me. In about twenty minutes I had put up all I had, and went over to the bank and drew a couple of hundred more. I drew it on personal account as I had plenty of money coming to me from the firm. Soon a couple of fellows came in who wanted to put up a hundred each. I covered their piles, went back to the bank and made another draft—in all, I planked up five hundred dollars before leaving town. Jarvis was my stake holder.

"'Say,' said he, 'young fellow, I've never done any business with you, but, by Heavens! I like your pluck, and I'm going right over to your sample room whether you ask me to or not and give you an order. This is the best time for me to buy goods. All these other fellows around here are croaking about the election and they're not going to have anything to sell these people. Shoes are going to wear out and the sun is going to fade calico, Bryan or no Bryan! I want some goods on my shelves. Come on, let's go now before it gets dark!'

"I never sold a bill so easy in my life. The old man would pick up a bundle of sample cards and say, 'Here, you send me about what you think I ought to have out of this lot,' and while I was writing down the items, he would talk politics. I sold him a nailer."

"Well, you had pretty good luck in that town," spoke up one of the boys, "to get a good bill and also win five hundred dollars."

"Didn't win it, though," said the dry goods man.

"Well, how's that? Didn't McKinley win the election? You were betting on him."

"Yes, but I got back to Chicago about the time that Bryan struck there. I went down to the old shack on the lake front where the Post Office now is, and heard Bryan speak to the business men. It looked to me like the whole house was with him. I heard a dozen men around where I sat say, after the speech was over, that they had intended to vote against him, but that they were sure going to vote for Bryan. That same day I hedged on my five hundred."

"Well, you got a good customer out of the deal anyhow."

"Yes, I did; but I thought I'd lost him. After the election he sent me the thousand and I went down to see him. You know I voted for Bryan."

"Changed your mind, did you?"

"Change? Did you ever hear Bryan speak? When I met the old man I made a clean breast of it, and said, 'I'm mighty sorry to tell you, but I voted for Bryan.'

"'Well, that's all right,' he said. 'So did I.'"