CHAPTER XITHENEWS-PATRIOTAIDS
That evening Tom, who made the trip to the 6:05 train alone, picked up two passengers and so swelled the day’s receipts to one dollar and a half. Connors seldom sent more than one carriage to the 6:05 and on this occasion Pat Herron was late and Tom reaped what small harvest there was before the livery hack reached the platform. Pat’s look of chagrin more than made up for the insults to his beloved Ark that Tom had been forced to bear.
The next morning Tom and Willard went around to the hotel and saw the proprietor, Mr. Timothy Meechin. Tim, as he was called, was a stout, good-natured man with florid face and a loud laugh who had inherited the hotel property from his father, “Meechin’s” having been a road tavern in the old days when Audelsville was only a wayside settlement. Almost everyone liked Tim Meechin, and his hotel was well conducted and popular, which was a fortunate thing since it was the only hostelry deserving the namein town. But, although Mr. Meechin was kindness itself and seemed genuinely interested in the boys’ venture, he had to refuse their request.
“It’s like this,” he said, a thumb in each arm-hole of his vest—he was seldom seen with a coat——“it’s like this, boys. Bill Connors has a sort of—of a franchise, d’ye see, to carry folks from the hotel to the depot, and t’other way, too, d’ye see. It’s a sort of a contract we made years ago and I wouldn’t scarcely like to go back on it, d’ye see. O’ course I can’t interfere with you if you bring somebody from the depot up here; you got a right to do that; but I wouldn’t like you should stand outside the hotel and take custom away from Bill. You see yourselves, boys, that that wouldn’t do.”
“It seems as if Mr. Connors was operating a sort of transportation trust,” said Willard with a sigh.
“Then there’s another thing,” continued Tim Meechin. “You fellows carry folks for a quarter and Bill he gets fifty cents. So if I let you stand outside the hotel, you’d get all of Bill’s trade away from him sooner or later, d’ye see, and that wouldn’t be hardly fair to Bill; now would it?”
“I don’t see that,” Tom objected. “If we can afford to carry folks for a quarter it seems to me that’s our look-out. All Mr. Connors would have to do would be to—to meet competition, to put his price down, too.”
“Ah, there it is, d’ye see! You fellows have an automobile which don’t cost much to run, but Bill he has a lot of horses to feed and look after and a lot of help to pay wages to. Follows, don’t it, that he can’t carry passengers as cheap as you can?”
“I suppose so,” Tom granted, “but—but if you stick to that idea, why, there wouldn’t be any competition at all!”
Mr. Meechin nodded untroubledly. “Right you are. It’s competition that’s ruinin’ the country, boys. What would I do, now, if a fellow came along, d’ye see, and opened a hotel across the street there? Say he bought the Perkins block and put up a new hotel. Where’d I be?”
“Why—why, if you gave just as good as he did and charged no more——”
“But he’d have a new building, d’ye see, with, say, a bathroom to every suite and—and a roof-garden on top, and one of those restaurants in the cellar and—” Mr. Meechin was getting quite excited and wrought up at the bare thought of the contingency. He shook his head decidedly. “First come, first served, boys; that’s my motto. Here I am and here I’ve been for thirty years, and my father before me, d’ye see, and what right has a fellow who, maybe, never saw Audelsville before to come and try to ruin my business and put me in the poor house? ’Tain’t fair dealing!”
“Well, if you look at it that way,” murmured Willard.
“There’s no other way to look at it, right,” said Mr. Meechin decisively. “And it’s the same way with Bill Connors. Bill has his living to make and his family to look after. He needs the money, boys. And—and I guess you don’t—much, eh? It’s a sort of a lark with you, d’ye see?”
“It isn’t a lark at all,” replied Tom warmly. “It’s business. We’re in it to make money, and we’ve just as much right to make money as Mr. Connors has. Of course if you say we can’t stop outside your hotel and bid for passengers, that’s all right, but it doesn’t seem quite fair to me, sir.”
“It’s fair enough, Tom,” said Willard soothingly, “if Mr. Meechin has an agreement with Connors. I suppose if we stood on the other side of the street and any of your guests chose to walk over there you couldn’t object, sir?”
Mr. Meechin hesitated. Finally: “No, I suppose I couldn’t,” he acknowledged. “But I warn you fair, boys, that I’d have to advise my folks to take Connors’ hack. I’ve got to live up to my agreement with Bill, d’ye see.”
“That’s all right, sir. And thank you very much. Good morning.”
Tom remained indignant for some time. “If wecan’t stand at the station and can’t stand at the hotel,” he said bitterly, “I guess we’d better sell The Ark and go out of business right now.”
“Maybe, though, we can get permission from the railroad if we write to the superintendent or whoever he said we should write to. It’s worth trying, anyway. And then if Simms will let us stand in front of his shop we might soon get business from the hotel. Men don’t mind walking across the street to save a quarter and get there quicker, I guess. Let’s go and see Simms now.”
Simms’ was one of those drug stores that fill their windows with signs and placards of patent medicines, headache cures, and temperance drinks, and very little else. It was a rather dirty, run-down little shop, but as it was directly opposite the entrance of Meechin’s Hotel it did a fair business.
Mr. Simms, the proprietor, was a little, light-haired, thin-voiced man of fifty-odd, who looked as though he might be his own best customer for patent remedies. When Willard proffered his request the druggist blinked his eyes for a moment and then smiled craftily.
“Why, I guess there isn’t any objection, boys,” he said. “Of course it’ll be worth something to you, I guess.”
“How do you mean?” asked Willard.
“Well, it ought to be worth a few dollars a month, hadn’t it? Say—shall we say ten?”
“Sure,” laughed Tom, mirthlessly, “let’s say fifty. It isn’t much harder.”
Mr. Simms frowned at him, and so did Willard.
“We can’t pay for the privilege just now, sir,” Willard said frankly, “but if after we give it a fair trial we find that we’re getting custom we might consider it, sir.”
The druggist, however, was obdurate and the boys went off. It was then nearly time to go to the station to meet the first train and they hurried up Pine Street to get the car. It was on the way that Willard recollected that they had not thought to look in the morning paper for the article Spider Wells had promised would be there. Unfortunately Mr. Benton had taken his copy of theNews-Patriotto the post-office with him and so when, after some difficulty, I must acknowledge, The Ark had been persuaded to start and was on its way toward the station, Willard insisted on stopping at a news stand and buying a copy. It was well worth the two cents he invested, however. The article was quite lengthy, and was headed in bold, black type, “Build Their Own Car and Operate It—Two Audelsville Boys, Sons of Well-Known Citizens, Show Mechanical Genius and Business Acumen.”Willard read it while Tom guided The Ark stationward.
“There’s a new transportation line in town,” said theNews-Patriot. “If you don’t believe it watch for the gray automobile that is to be seen any day flying between the railroad station and the hotel. Audelsville has a new business enterprise and its name is the Benton and Morris Transportation Company, Thomas Benton, President, Willard Morris, General Manager. The lads, one the son of our popular postmaster, and the other the son of Mr. Garford Morris, the well-known cabinet maker of Logan Street, are each under eighteen years of age, and yet, we understand, have practically built the automobile unaided. It is a fine looking machine, as all who have seen it in its trips through town will testify. Audelsville should be proud of two such clever young citizens.
“The auto makes trips between Meechin’s Hotel and the station, meeting all trains, and handling passengers and baggage comfortably and expeditiously. The reasonable charge of twenty-five cents for the trip each way is made and there is no doubt but that the traveling public will warmly welcome this means of transportation, especially when, as is almost always the case, the trolley line fails to make connection with the trains. Young Benton is the driver of the car, whilehis friend and business associate, Willard Morris, attends to securing trade. Both boys are well known and popular. Morris graduated from high school last month and Benton is in the senior class. TheNews-Patriotwishes them all good fortune in their plucky venture.”
“There’s a lot there that isn’t so,” said Tom, trying to disguise his pleasure with a critical frown. “That about our making the car ourselves, for instance.”
“Yes, but who cares? It makes a better story, Tom. Why, this ought to be worth a lot to us as advertising. It was dandy of Spider, wasn’t it?”
“Yes; Mr. Wells, too. We ought to find Spider and ride him around all day, Will! Just—just read it again, will you?”
It was well they had the newspaper story to keep their spirits up that morning, for it wasn’t until the 1:57 train pulled in that they succeeded in securing their first passenger, an elderly gentleman who confided to them that he had never ridden in one of “these here contraptions afore” and whose destination was so far the other side of town that the boys doubted whether they had made or lost on the trip! Business looked up a little toward evening, however, and from the 6:05 they gathered three commercial travelers, who filled the car with bags and made good-natured fun of it all the way to the hotel. What added vastlyto the boys’ pleasure at that time was the fact that Pat Herron returned from the station with an empty hack!
That evening Willard came to Tom’s house and the boys confided their problems to Mr. Benton and asked his advice. After talking matters over it was decided that they should write an application for a stand at the station and get as many signatures of Audelsville citizens as they could. Then either Tom or Willard would make the trip to Providence and see the superintendent personally.
“There’s a heap of red tape in railroad offices,” said Mr. Benton, “and maybe if you sent your application through the mail you wouldn’t hear anything from it for weeks and weeks. It’ll cost a couple of dollars to make the trip, but you’ll hurry things up a whole lot, I’d say.”
Mr. Benton did not, however, favor the scheme of paying Mr. Simms, or anyone else, for the privilege of standing in front of his store. “I don’t believe,” he said, “that it’s necessary for you to pay anything. I guess you’ve got a right to stand anywhere along the street you want to, just so you keep off the crossings. Of course, I wouldn’t advise you to stop in front of Simms’, now that he’s looking for money, but there’s plenty of other places along there.”
So the next morning, about twenty minutes beforeit was time for the 9:01 to go through, Tom stopped The Ark in front of a small fruit store, next door to Simms’, and hung out his sign where it could be plainly seen from the hotel. A good many folks paused and looked the car over and asked questions, having evidently read the article in the paper of the day before. Even the occupants of the big trolley car that stopped on the siding nearby showed unusual interest. Tom was alone to-day, for it had been decided that Willard was to secure names to the petition and was already at work. Connors’ hack drove up in front of the hotel and Pat Herron scowled when he saw the automobile across the street. But he made no remarks. Pat had decided to treat the rival concern with silent contempt. Presently three travelers emerged from the hotel and climbed into the hack, although Tom squawked his horn enticingly. Then the hack rolled away and Tom started his engine and followed. In front of the common someone called and he slowed down and looked around. It was Willard, just coming out of the Court House.
“How are you getting on?” asked Tom, casting a glance toward the clock in the tower overhead.
“Fine and dandy. I’ve got fourteen names already. It won’t take me any time to get fifty signatures. Everyone seems willing to sign. One man, though, refused; Hall, of Hall and Duggett. It seems Connorshauls their freight for them, and he said he didn’t want to do anything to hurt Connors. But we’ll get plenty of signatures without his. How are you getting on?”
Tom shrugged. “Nothing doing yet. There were three from the hotel, but the hack got them. Well, I must be getting down; it’s most nine.”
“Wait a minute. Did you see this morning’sHerald? It’s got something about us. I guess they cribbed it from theNews-Patriot. I’ve got the paper at home and I’ll show it to you later. We’re getting a heap of advertising, Tom.”
“Yes, but we aren’t getting much business,” replied Tom pessimistically. “See you later, Will.”