The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1920-07-08

Equipped with 500 and a horseshoe
Clarence Archibald Creston Kennel
worth was set adrift amid the cold
currents of success seekers.
The capital with which he was ex-
pected to wrest wealth from the world
was the gift of his father. The token
Of luck was from the girl he expected
some time to marry.
The words accompanying the bank
notes ran something like this:
ST gave you the chance to work in
these steel mills and climb the ladder
on the rungs of experience. That's the
way I did it, and you could have done
as well. Of course I'm only president
Of the company, but that is not so bad
when you consider had no education.
But you insisted on course at the
university, and now you have it. Here's
q hundred cash. Harness it to your
learning and try to make good at some
thing. If you fail, just come back and
own up to it, and I'll give you the
same job you could have had four
years agO-withOut the college course.
The horseshoe came into Clarence'S
possession that night when he called
on Magdeline Osborne to tell her their
wedding would have TO be postponed
another hundred years." because his
father had refused to make him a
manager in the mills, and now he
would have to learn to do something,
and then do it until he had enough
money to finance a voyage on the mat
rimoniaI sea-
81 thought you learned how to do
things at college," Magdeline observed
in sympathetic tones.
That's where you thought wrong.
The only things learned in college
were football and baseball. To be
frank, Mag, the only way 1 ever passed
my examinations was with the assist
ance of my master partner luck. In
fact, just bIuffed my way through,
studying very little. I've always been
a good buffer. and had my share of
luck, but-you can't bluff father"
Magdeline smiled with the dawn of
an idea, excused herself and left the
room, returning with a horseshoe
about the size of a half-dOllar.
'Tt's not silver" she assured him,
although it does have a good shine.
It's just tin, but the little trinket has
been in our family for many genera
lions and has always brought luck to
the possessor. 1 want you to wear it,
and it will help your usual luck and
bluff to make good"
Clarence attached the token to his
watchchain. and somehow it seemed to
give him confidence.
''Tn make good at something" he
promised as he took his leave. Until
get a good start, though, you'll not
hear from me-"
Clarence did not deserve the ca1um-
NOUS chain of names that fettered
him. Ancestors On his mothers
branches of the family tree were to
blame If he had been blessed with
names BETTING his appearance and
personality, they would have been
something like John Sam Hank
Brown. AS it was, his friends had
taken his initials and coined "Cack"
for his nickname.
He was a healthy specimen Of TWEEN
ty-three, with six feet Of height and
generous girth. While not exactly
handsome, he was attractive, with
twinkling blue eyes, mOuthful of
shiny teeth, mop of light brown hair
that looked rusty, and a Roman nose,
which, although larger than necessary,
never got in the way. He was not
corpulent by any means, but was
chunky, and walked with a rolling gait
that would mark him for q sailor, al
though he had never seen an ocean.
Before hunting a job "Cack" felt it
necessary to eat, so he hunted a res
taurant and, seating himself at Ia
BILE. picked up a newspaper. An &C
count of a murder drew his attention.
''The detectives still are looking for
clews," he read. A cough at his Shout
der apprised him of the presence of a
waiter.
by George !''' he exclaimed mental
~, 'Tm going to be a detective"
Bring me some hash," he told the
waiter.
On the ninth floor of a nine-story
building Detective Cack waited for
clients. His Office rent came cheap be-
cause he was willing to trust himself
in room Is.
Kennelworth's detective agency was
advertised in both the local papers,
but at the beginning Of the agency's
second week of existence these adver-
tisements had done no more than fiat
ten the firms pocketbook. Numerous
incidentals of expense, including a IL
cense to detect" had eaten the hun
dred, and Clarence was worrying about
his next meal.
Across the street two men on a scat
fold were painting a smoked ham on
the brick wall of a building. Clarence
watched with wistful eyes, putting vi
eiously on mis- pipe.
81 can't stand it, he finally decided,
and pulled the shade over the window,
shutting the ham from view. 'Tn have
to give it up and call on father"
He reached for the telephone, but be-
fore he could lift the receiver the bell
rang. It startled him and he sat for
half a minute as though dazed. then
cautiously answered:
.Hello. This is Clar- Kennel
wortil,s detective agency"
saThis is George Dillingham;" said a
harsh voice. aRush a detective out to