Volume III Part 10 (2/2)

”Why, you old fool!” she said; ”why don't you get rid of him?”

”How can I?” said I, in desperation.

”Why, there are a thousand ways,” said she.

This is just like a woman. How differently a statesman would have answered!

But I could think of only two ways to dispose of the beast. I could either swallow him where he stood and then sit down on him, or I could crawl inside of him and kick him to death.

But I was saved either of these expedients by his coming towards me so abruptly that I dropped the rope in terror, and then he turned about, and, kicking me full of mud, shot for the gate, ripping the clothes-line in two, and went on down the street at a horrible gallop, with two of Mrs. Perkins' garments, which he hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed from the line, floating over his neck in a very picturesque manner.

So I was afterwards told. I was too full of mud myself to see the way into the house.

Stiver got his horse all right, and stays at home to care for him. Mrs.

Perkins has gone to her mother's to recuperate, and I am healing as fast as possible.

THE CRIMSON CORD[1]

BY ELLIS PARKER BUTLER

I had not seen Perkins for six months or so and things were dull. I was beginning to tire of sitting indolently in my office with nothing to do but clip coupons from my bonds. Money is good enough, in its way, but it is not interesting unless it is doing something lively--doubling itself or getting lost. What I wanted was excitement--an adventure--and I knew that if I could find Perkins I could have both. A scheme is a business adventure, and Perkins was the greatest schemer in or out of Chicago.

Just then Perkins walked into my office.

”Perkins,” I said, as soon as he had arranged his feet comfortably on my desk, ”I'm tired. I'm restless. I have been wis.h.i.+ng for you for a month.

I want to go into a big scheme and make a lot of new, up-to-date cash.

I'm sick of this tame, old cash that I have. It isn't interesting. No cash is interesting except the coming cash.”

”I'm with you,” said Perkins, ”what is your scheme?”

”I have none,” I said sadly, ”that is just my trouble. I have sat here for days trying to think of a good practical scheme, but I can't. I don't believe there is an unworked scheme in the whole wide, wide world.”

Perkins waved his hand.

”My boy,” he exclaimed, ”there are millions! You've thousands of 'em right here in your office! You're falling over them, sitting on them, walking on them! Schemes? Everything is a scheme. Everything has money in it!”

I shrugged my shoulders.

”Yes,” I said, ”for you. But you are a genius.”

”Genius, yes,” Perkins said smiling cheerfully, ”else why Perkins the Great? Why Perkins the originator? Why the Great and Only Perkins of Portland?”

”All right,” I said, ”what I want is for your genius to get busy. I'll give you a week to work up a good scheme.”

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