Sighing, Graham gave over the unequal argument. "Well, if you're satisfied, my boy.... But I'll have to write to Elmiry for it." "Telegraph." "Telegraph!" Graham laughed. "That'd kill Lew Parker, I guess." "Who's he?" "Telegraph operator and ticket agent." "Well, he won't be missed much. Telegraph and tell 'em to send the goods C.O.D. Please, Mr. Graham. We want to get things moving here, you know; we've got to build up the business. We'll put out some signs and ... and ... well, we'll get the people in the habit of coming here somehow. You'll see!" He raked the poverty-stricken shelves with a calculating eye, all his energy fired by enthusiasm at the prospect of doing something. Graham watched him with kindling liking and admiration. His old lips quivered a little before he voiced his thought. "You--you know, my boy, you've got splendid business ability," he asserted with whole-souled conviction. Duncan almost reeled. "What?" he cried. "I was just saying, you have wonderful business ability." "You're the first man that ever said that. I wonder if it's so." "I'm sure of it." "Well," said Nat, chuckling, "I'll write that to my chum. He'll--" "Oh, I can tell," Graham interrupted. "Now, I ... Well, you see, I've been a failure in business. So far as that goes, I've been a failure in everything all my life." Duncan stared for a moment, then offered his hand. "For luck," he explained, meeting Graham's puzzled gaze as his hand was taken. Wondering, Graham shook his head; and gratitude made his old voice tremulous. He put a hand over Duncan's, patting it gently. "I want you to know, my boy, that I appreciate..." His voice broke. "It's mighty kind of you to buy the syrup--very kind--" "Nothing of the sort; it's just because I've got great business ability." Duncan laughed quietly and moved away. "We'll want to clean up a bit," said he; "got a broom? I'll raise the dust a bit while you're out sending that wire." "You'll find one in the cellar, I guess, but--your clothes--" "Oh, that's all right. Where's the cellar?" "Underneath," Graham told him simply, taking down a battered hat from a hook behind the counter. "I know; but how do I get there?" "By the steps; you go through that door there into the hall. The steps are under the stairs to our rooms. I live above the store, you see." "Yes.... Good-bye, Mr. Graham." "Good-bye, my boy." Duncan watched the old man move slowly out of sight, then with a groan sat down on the counter to think it over. "It wouldn't be me if I didn't make a mess of things somehow," he told himself bitterly. "Now you have gone and went and done it, Mr. Fortune Hunter. You stand a swell chance of getting away with the goods when you take a wageless job in a spavined country drug-store with no trade worth mentioning and nothing to draw it with... just because that old duffer's the only human being you've spotted in this burg!...