The Ely miner., 1924-04-18

down the chute by the elevator. Then
he came back into his room, lay down
on the bed, dressed as he was. and al
most at once fell deeply "sleep.
He was awakened several hours
later by a pounding on his door, and
when he opened it and angrily de-
manded what the devil the row was
about, he was told by an obviously re-
lieved bellboy that Chicago was trying
to get him on the telephone. They
had rung his bell several times with
out rousing him. He was still in a
| half-Stupefied condition when he went
TO the telephone. He made out that
1t was Jennie Macarthur who was
calling him. She was talking about
some stock. Had he been selling any? !?
Stock in what?" he asked.
| Stock in the Greer company, Joe"
she told him. "Have you been sell
ing any of yours?"
He told her she must be crazy to
ask him thing like that. OF course
he hadn't. What had put such an idea
into her head?
| well, there's lot of 1t for sale,"
she told him. up in Fargo and other
places. There's lot of it sold already,
guess. It's the other crowd that's
selling it, then"
He asked her angrily what other
| crowd she meant.
IN write you all know about 1t
| tonight" she told him, In a rather odd
sounding voice. "I'll send it special
delivery so you'll get 1t the first thing
Monday morning." He told her this
would be all right, he guessed, and at
thar she hung up. He undressed and
went back to bed.
His memory of this incident when
he awakened Sunday morning was,
oddly enough, perfectly clear. And Of
course now that his mind was work
| ing again, the inference from what she
had told him was clear, too. For a
long time he lay contemplating it
| it and other matters, too, in a sort
Of crystalline detachment.
Williamson and Corbett and Craw-
| ford had sold out-stood from under
They had sold their stock right up
| there in the fax country, too. Under
his own nose. But why had they done
| 1t? They were playing him for fool.
| Well, he was one. He had been quite
unaccountably a fool-for months,
blindly unaware Of what was going on
| about him. Williamson had started
back to Chicago under the satisfied
conviction that he had been a fool.
He didn't waste much time trying to
forecast the terms of the offer they
would have ready for him Wednesday
afternoon. The broad outline of the
situation was plain enough. In default
of selling his flax, he would have to
borrow the money to pay for it. and
| as the price of finding the money for
| him they would exact their pound of
flesh; namely, his share in the enter
prise which his Imagination had con-
ceived and his energy made real.
What particular form Of hocus-pocus
under the polite name Of reorganiza-
tion they resorted to didn't matter
Well, he was broad awake now. Ger
| tainly he would need all his wits to
meet this next week. No good vast
| ing time going to Chicago to listen to
| the terms of the bargain they'd pro-
pose to him. He'd tell Jennie to 90
TO the meeting.
He wanted drink. That was the
first thing. He went over to the bag.
There stood the bottle, but 1t was
empty. Queerl 1t had been practi-
cally full when he had opened 1t on
coming in from his lunch with Will
hanson, and he hadn't been out of the
room except 20 walk down the corri-
dor to mail that lette- to Violet.
The contents of that letter, forgot
ten ultil now, began coming back into
his mind as he stood staring at the dis
ordered desk and the empty whisky
bottle.
He had been drunk when he wrote
that Letter. No getting away f. ON
that He had been 'runk, too, when
Jennie telephoned, and she had known
/ it, That letter to Vio',t What could
he do about it? 1t was too late to risk
the comparative publicity of tele-
gram. Williamson himself would be
home before it arrived Then the fat
would be in the fire He needed a
drink He would be able to think
after lie had had a drnl.
| He was on the way to the bell to
summon the boy who provided him
with liquor when he stopped short,
| turned back, and lay down again upon
the bed. He was clammy with sweat.
| His whole body was crying out for the
drink he wanted. But the thing that
! frightened him was the realization,
brought home at last, that this was
what had been the matter with him
| for months. In way, he had known
| it all along. His shame over the habit
gave him away; his careful conceal
ment from his associates of the
amount of whisky it took to see him
through the day.
He got up and took the empty bottle
and the. glass into the bathroom.
washed them out thoroughly, and then
washed his hands. The only way TO
quit was to quit.
There had been nothing in Joe's ex-
perience that was comparable with the
tortures of the ensuing week.
He was starving. for food was some
thing he could hardly bring himself
TO touch; he was consumed by what
seemed like thirst. except that no
drink he would take could satisfy 1t !;
he was dragged down by heavy lassi: