Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 1, 1913, Page 3

POWER Author of “The Man Higher Up” Copyright, 1911, by the Bobbs-Merrill Company PROLOGUE. Reader, here isa live, gripping, absorbing romance of politics— not the politics of a decade ago, | but the politics of today. A young American of good fighting | blood and hard, fixed ideals sets | eut to smash the political ma- chine of his state without com- promise with evil. The greatmo- | ment of his life comes when he | must sacrifice his clean hands or | ruin the father of the girl he Soves. The creative genius and | Jarge power of the author are | even more notable than in “The | Man Higher Up,” preceding novel. CHAPTER IV. The Nazarite. ANY years before there had come to New Chelsea a shep- flock and to die, leaving his wits, a shy, plain little woman, and her son, to struggle with the problem of existence. She must have strug- sted effectively, for New Chelsea bears witness that never was recourse had to its ready charity. Some credit must be given to the son who, when public | schooldays were over, bent himself to the problem; a moon faced lad who blinked uncomprebendingly at the teasing and pranks of his former schoolmates. Slow, patient, unobtru- sive, of the sort that despite sundry time honored maxims usually finds Tecognition reluctant, he yet won it quickly. When those of his generation whose fathers had been able to provide a eollege education returned on the threshold of manhood to begin life, they found Warren Blake already, in the eyes of his neighbors, a success, assistant cashier of the bank and own- ec of certain smal! mortgages, but not | He continued, | at all boastful over it. even when he became cashier, modest- ly unaware that he had become a model young man. He was a literal man who took all things seriously, his duty to his bank, his treasurership of the Presbyterian church. He was racely known to laugh. After thirty-five years’ acquaintance New Chelsea had found no explanation ef him. It was admitted that even Jadge Dunmeade, who had a liking for sonorous phrases, had failed with his “triumph of the commonplace vir- taes.” i it continued to choose en nizations requiring such an officer, ator of its last wills and testa- ments and trustee of its estates, of 1 trusts he always rendered prompt and exact unts. And now, all New Chelsea knew, he and Stephen Hampden were organiz- mg a company of fabulous capitaliza- tion to work the coal fields. One morning in mid July Warren | was as usual at his desk. The day had already become hot and stifling. The clerks at the counter grumbled profanelw at the rule, promulgated by nh, that bade them to appear anced enviously through S partition at the cashi ass, and ¢ late very handsome and cool looking in his | Meh suit, socks and necktie to match. He was reading, with a slow | care that overlooked no syllable, the | papers on the desk. When he had read | » he arranged them in two neat lit. Ge piles. which he labeled “Options Gran and “Options Refused.” As this task was completed Stephen red the bank, with a pleasant nod in reply to the clerks spect ful He made his way facto the cashier's office. he whistled, drawing a up to the desk. “It’s a hot day, Have you the options?” rren pushed the two piles of docu- ments toward him. At one Hampden Merely glanced; the other, “Options Refused,” he opened and read rapidly. “H-m-m! All Deer town hip proper- @es. Why won't they sign “They want cash, not stock, for their roa i you point out to them the pros- e value of the stock and the ne- eessity of being all in one company to prevent price cutting and the opportu- ality to improve the community by speaing up a new business?” “{ did. But we're not trying to im- prove the community; we're trying to make money for ourselves.” “(m afraid, Warren, you were the Wrong man to send after those op- tions.” “I was,” said Warren calmly. “I Yoid you so at first. I’m not a clever dalker.” “f don’t want to tie up any more cash ém this thap I have to. How would: it work to send Joha Dunmeade after By Henry Russell Miller, ° Mr. Miller’s | herd to lead the Presbyterian | ke as treasurer for those | those options? We could make bm at- torney for us and the give him stock. What do you i ica Warren. took several minutes to con- sider this suggestion. “He can do it if any one can,” be said at last. “He is very populat among the farmers. Ev- erybody likes him. I like him, too, though he {3 always laughing at me.” “Eh? Why does he Jaugh at you?” Hampden inquired. “I don't know,” answered Warren jevenly. “I shall ask him sometime. Shall I send for him?” “Yes.” Warren opened the door and sent one f his clerks with the message. Then | be sat down, staring thoughtfully at ‘the smoke from Hampden’s cigar. | Hampden took up a pad and pencil and | began to make some caiculations. “He won't do it,” Warren said sud- ' denly. “Why not?’ Hampden looked up | from his penciling. | “He's honest.” “Aren't we honest?” Hampden de- | manded sharply. “We're not—sentimental,” Warren | answered calmly. “He is. We're try- ing to take advantage—legitimately, of course—of the farmers in a bargain. That's the thing he likes to fight.” “Not at all,’ Hampden contradicted leoldly. “This is a straight business | Proposi on, and I guess he'll not be | sentimental when we offer him, say, ‘ten thousand—in stock. “We can let him have that much without losing control.” “I don’t think he'll take it,” Warren insisted without warmth. “And he isn’t a fool. He doesn’t need money. He’s the sort that people take to, whe- | ther be has it or not. I’m not like that. | I’ve got to have money to get people’s |respect. You're that kind too.” | “Eh?” Hampden stared, half amus- | ed, half angered by Warren's matter of fact explanation. Warren was not in the habit of talking of himsef. “Turn- ed philosopher, have you? You'd better | stick to banking, where you're at home.” A few minutes later John entered the | bank. Hampden greeted him cordially. Warren listened patiently while the jother men used up a few minutes in | pleasant preliminaries. They came at last to the purpose of John’s summons. “I suppose you've heard of our coal proposition?” Hampden suggested. “Yes,” { “There will be a good deal of legal work in connection with it.” In a few rapid, terse sentences | Hampden outlined his plan of organiza- | tion. Mindful of Warren’s prediction jand seeing John’s face grow gravely dubious he endeavored to make his ex- | planation quite matter of fact. | “Of course,” he concluded, “you're | familiar with the details. There is | nothing new in the plan.” “We don’t know much about high | finance in New Chelsea. But I read the, papers sometimes. It is almost a classic, I should say,” John replied. “Substantially the plan of all pro- motions,” Hampden agreed. | “Let's see if I get you right. You take the options in your own, name, ; agreeing to pay for the coal in stock |of your company. Then you agree to turn the properties over to the com- | pany for a little more than twice this | consideration, out of which you pay the | farmers. This gives you control of the company that owns the coal and it hasn't cost you a cent. The money for development and operating you lend | the company, taking as security first | mortaage bond He hesitated, look- i “j'm sorry, but | can’t do it.” ing directly at Hampden. “That bard- | ly gives the farmers a square deal, | does it?” The pupils of Hampden’s eyes con- tracted suddenly. “Certainly it does.” jhe answered with some emphasis, | “since it converts properties that have | been eating themselves up in taxes into a producing proposition. I didn’t say.” he added carelessly, “that your fee ; ought, in my opinion, to be about $10.- 000—in stock.” . “Worth how much?” “Worth par,” Hampden answered with conviction. “Eventually.” “Phew! You haven't impressed me as a man who would pay city prices for country butter, Mr. Hampden.” John replied thoughtfully. “Just why so much?" “You will be expected to earn it,” said Hampden dryly. “Are you in.the habit cf questioning fees because they are large?” “I'm not in the habit of getting large fees. only rm not eS oan ae pli» Be conveyances aia oe > And,” casually, “helping us to ana the Deer township properties.” “They don’t like the proposition?” — “They're the only ones who haven't accepted it. They seem to be holding out under the advice of this fellow— Cranshawe, is it?’ Warren nodded. “We think you can swing them into line.” “I see,” said John thoughtfully. His brow wrinkled in a troubled fashion as he gazed reflectively out at the clerks sweltering behind the cage. Hampden and Warren waited patiently for his answer. At last he raised his eyes to Hamp- den’s. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.” “Why not?’ Hampden demanded. “This fellow Cranshawe happens to be a good deal of a man. He and his neighbors are clients of mine in a smail way and friends also, I think. They do me the honor to trust me. I shouldn't care to advise them in this matter.” “Why not?’ Hampden demanded again. | “Let us say,” John smiled, “that 1) am in politics and don’t want to com- plicate my vote getting.” “That isn’t your reason.” ' “Well.” John said regretfully, “if } you will have it, it isn’t a proposition that I can conscientiously recommend.”-} “You impeach my honesty?” | “I do not go so far, sir. Honesty is a matter of intent. I think I understand your point of view—that you will con- vert their idle coal, as you say, into an income property and by starting a new industry will indirectly benefit the whole valley, which is probably true. But the point is that the coal, the one indispensable element in the situation, is theirs, and in return for it they should at least have control.” “The coal has always been there. We furnish the initiative and the brains and the money to make it use- ful.” “I see that, too. But don’t you think initiative of this sort is sometimes—er —overcapitalized ?” “Do you know of any capital that | will offer better terms than I do?” “T do not,” John confessed. “And it strikes me,” he added gravely, “that you are taking advantage of that fact to gouge”’—the word slipped out; he corrected himself hastily—“to drive a close bargain with the farmers.” Hampden abruptly straightened up in his chair. ‘You may stick to ‘gouge.’ Do I understand that you re- fuse the job?” i “I have been trying to explain my) | reasons”— | “I’m not deeply concerned with your! reasons,” Hampden remarked shortly. He picked up a document and pointed} ly began to peruse it. Observing that! John did not ‘at once take the hint, h looked up, nodding carelessly. “Oh! Good morning!" John rose, ttushed under the curt dis- missal and went out of the bank. “I told you so,” Warren said. “Can't you say anything more origi- nal than that?’ Hampden exclaimed |impatiently. Warren couldn’t, so he held his peace. “What I'd like to know,” Hampden added. reflectively, dropping the docu- ment, “is why Murchell. let him be nominated. A young lawyer who re- | fuses a big fee for sentimental reasons | has no place in Murchell’s machine.” | He was talking to himself rather, than } to Warren. , | |; But this was attacking what had a most attained the sanctity of a tradi- ; tion, an institution proudly ested | by New Chelsea! “Murehell a Gre man,” Warren was moved “and he likes Dunmeade, gone] John is smart enongh to ped | the stock may be worn nothing: | tually.” Hampden looked at him | Warren's face was as @ | as that of the soldiers’ monut Hid. | “Well,” the capitalixt sath phil | sophically, “it’s rehell's i tae | | not mine.” j \ of | That evening cate a found on the terraces She Was looking | particularly well, @ Tack of ae ~ | was not altogether consciol |she was restless af pence s Hay Jessly into the library where she found |her father busy at Bi lay a profusion of | prints. He nodded 3 |} “Still at work, get tired of it?" “I guess it’s the how to do. My taught to take ple needn't complain, ” back in his chat provingly. “Wh She yawned. been a devastating kindly proceed “All this gorg She yawned Age late new arieeead nt not going to fall petent one ho: you?” “Tt is not beye sibility?" shevlaugt incompetent?’ “He is. him the ae | more than | years, and he mental reasons! - i is he didn’t turn it but bluntly. qi . matter. That far.” . “He told me on ee 2 much for money. wasn't posing.” Conitnued. py eat-U- Well” Shoes Wear Better It means Wearu-well, — This sign uct of great in this city marks the place where the high cost: of living is solved so for as your shoe bills are con- Well factories handed directly to you through Wear -U- Well branches, just as if you bought the shoes at the factory door. Don’t Think and Guess--Look and Try Wear-U-Well § 1 ‘ 9 8 Wear-U-Well Wear-U-Well $, 248) Rect Wear-U- Well $2. 9 8 Fall and Winter fl tan Russia Goodyear welt, top notch style, a $4.00 va ue. cer ned. Full Goodyearj Goodyear welt, two|welt, pat. oak soles,|colt, bluch- sold regu-|€f mat calf larly for $3 top, $3.50 value. ASK FOR No. 716 ASK .YUR No 313 ASK Fu... 1.0. 425R Every Wear-U-Well Branch is a permanent local organization under a long time lease. Every shoe in stock is fresh and direct from Wear-U-Well factories to you. All the latest lasts and leathers. Also Rubber Boots, Shoes and Arctics at money- eerie prices. We Guarantee to save you a dollar and two cents on EVERY pair purchased--on many shoes we save you much more BRANCH No. 506 WILL OPEN | Saturday, January 4th, 1913, at 214 Third Street, Grand Rapids. Lots of Shoee Wear Good, But E. S. KELM, Manager. Fine Shoe Repairing of ali Descriptions g, Pressing, Cleaning, Repairing, Dyeing. Measured to Order for Ladies and Gents. NO MORE $] 5 NO LESS Can You Beat It? able to give you the pick WSamples in Suitings -Overcoatings at . . =