Torchy, Private Sec. | Page 8

"See here, Son, how long
do you think I've been plugging at this thing? Nine years. And for the
last four I've been giving it all my time, day in and day out, and many a
night as well. I've been living with it, in this loft here, like a blessed
hermit; testing and perfecting, trying out my processes, and fighting the
Patent Office sharks between times. Nine years--the best of my life!
Call that quitting, do you?"
"Well, that is sticking around some," says I. "Think you've got your
schemes so they'll work?"
"I don't think," says he; "I know."

"But what's the good," I goes on, "if you can't make other folks see
you've got a good thing?"
"I can, though," he says. "Why, any person with even ordinary
intelligence can----"
"That's me," says I. "My nut is just about a stock pattern size, six and
seven-eighths, or maybe seven. Come, try it on me, if it's so simple.
Now what about this retort business?"
That got him goin'. Rowley drops the potatoes, and in another minute
we're neck-deep in the science of makin' an ore puddin', doin' stunts
with the steam, skimmin' dividends off the pot, and coinin' the slag into
dollars.
I ain't lettin' him slip over any gen'ral propositions on me, either. I'm
right there with the Missouri stuff. He has to go clear back to first
principles every time he makes a statement, and work up to it gradual.
Course, I was keepin' him jollied along too, and while it must have
been sort of hopeless at the start, inoculatin' a cauliflower like mine
with higher chemistry, I fin'lly showed one or two gleams that
encouraged him to keep on. Anyway, we hammered away at the subject,
only stoppin' to make coffee and sandwiches, until near two o'clock in
the mornin'.
"Help!" says I, glancin' at the nickel alarm clock. "My head feels like a
stuffed sausage. A little more, and I won't know whether I'm a nitrous
sulphide or a ferrous oxide of bromo seltzer. Let's take the rest in
another dose."
Rowley chuckles and agrees to call it a day, I didn't let on anything at
the office next morning; but by eight A.M. I was planted at the roll-top
with my elbows squared, tryin' to write out as much of that chemistry
dope as I could remember. And it's surprising ain't it, what a lot of
information you can sop up when you do the sponge act in earnest? I
found there was a lot of points, though, that I was foggy on; so I makes
an early getaway and puts in another long session with Rowley.

And, take it from me, by Tuesday I was well loaded. Also I had my
plan of campaign all mapped out; for you mustn't get the idea I was
packin' my bean full of all this science dope just to see if it would stand
the strain. Not so, Clarice! I'd woke up to the fact that I was bein'
carried along by the Corrugated as a sort of misfit inner tube stowed in
the bottom of the tool-box, and that it was up to me to make good.
So the first openin' I has I tackles Mr. Robert on the side.
"About that Rowley proposition?" says I.
"Oh, yes," says he. "I fear Mr. Briscoe thinks unfavorably of it."
"Then he's fruity in the pan," says I.
"We have been in the habit of accepting his judgment in such matters,"
says Mr. Robert.
"Maybe," says I; "but here's once when he's handin' you a stall. And
you're missin' out on something good too."
Mr. Robert smiles skeptical. "Really?" says he. "Perhaps you would
like to present a minority report?"
"Nothin' less," says I. "Oh, it may listen like a joke, but that's just what
I got in mind."
"H-m-m-m!" says Mr. Robert. "You realize that Briscoe is one of the
leading mining authorities in the country, I suppose, and that we pay
him a large salary as consulting engineer?"
I nods. "I know," says I. "And the nearest I ever got to seein' a mine
was watchin' 'em excavate for the subway. I'm admittin' all that."
"I may add too," goes on Mr. Robert, "that he has a way of stating his
opinions quite convincingly."
"Yep," says I, "I should judge that. But if I think he's bilkin' you on this,
is it my play to sit behind and chew my tongue?"

"By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, his sportin' instincts comin' to the top.
"You shall have your chance, Torchy. The directors shall hear your
views; to-morrow, at two-thirty. You will follow Briscoe."
"Let's not bill it ahead, then," says I, "if it'll be fair to spring it on him."
"Quite," says Mr. Robert; "and rather