Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

510 him that, after all, it might be the best thing he could do. He knew the psychol- ogy of the speculating public. They always wanted to sell on the declines, to buy on the rises. For every sucker who would dump his stock for the sake of a few cents a share profit, a rising series of curb quota- tions would coax ten hungry investors to buy. The danger lay, he knew, in the foxy- eyed crowd of short traders, always on the lookout for some one who would prove fool enough to try to support a stock, whom they could raid and smash for their own profit. It had happened a thousand times. It had happened to Stokes himself at least once. That was one reason he'd like to try it again—on the chance that he might catch the crowd “ for fair” and squeeze a juicy revenge out of their. shrieking bank ac- counts. It would be all or nothing; either a com- plete triumph—in which case every person who had bought a share of Alhambra in Templeton would have a chance to get out with a profit, if he had sense enough—or absolute failure, in which case he would quit penniless and every stockholder would Jose one hundred per cent of his investment. And it will be noticed that, in such a campaign, the real value of the Alhambra’s alleged heldings in the oil fields would have practically nothing to do with the outcome one way or another. But that didn’t worry Stokes. He arose next morning after a conscience- clear night’s rest and discovered that, so re- freshed, one need not hesitate to make de- cisions. He made his. “Till go broke or I'll clean up,” he thought. ‘‘ What’s the use of trying to satisfy myself with this hand-to-mouth game?”’ Whereupon it becomes evident that the profits can’t come too fast for men of Mr. Stokes’s type, since his deposits at the Sands County already ran well into six figures. _ Later in the day the broker conferred seriously with Mr. Charlie Grabb, his sales- man. “The rubes. don’t fall very hard, do they?” ‘‘ Stokesie, they don’t fall at all. They’re ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. a cagey lot. I haven’t earned enough com- missions in the last month to pay for my cigars.” | “ How do you account for it?” ‘“ Well, aren’t you an old enough bird to know that farmers don’t make good specu- lators? They'll go to the county fair and guess about the little joker under the shell, but they don’t warm up to a real live money-making investment opportunity. You have to explain the whole idea of investment from the ground up, and when you get through they ask you some fool question that shows they don’t know what you have been talking about. Honest, Stokesie, I can’t afford the time, and I don’t see how you can afford to pay me a salary for working such territory. Now if it was Sea- port, or some other live- city, I wouldn’t have a doubt in the world—” “Guess you’re right, Charlie. Anyhow, I’m about through here. The oil thing has put the skids under the brokerage game, and I’ve sold about all the Alhambra this burg will absorb. Time to move along, Charlie— time to move along.” “ Where to?” ‘* We-ell, I don’t know’s I can tell you just what I'll do. The boom is still on; the market’s lively, and I don’t feel satisfied with the business I’ve done so far on a proposition as good as Alhambra.” ‘‘ Satisfied? Some folks wouldn’t be sat- isfied if they had pie all the time.” “Charlie, there’s faster ways of makin’ it than this, believe me.” ‘“‘ And riskier. I suppose you mean the eurb.”’ Stokes nodded. “ T’ve been thinking of it.” “Poor fish!” remarked Mr. Grabb. “Well, some folks never learn anything; and the guy that gets his living off the suck- ers is sure the biggest sucker of the bunch.” “Yep; I guess you’re right. But—I’m going to play ’em close to my chest this trip, Charlie.” Charlie chortled. “ Haw! That’s what they all say. By the way, know you’ve got some competition out among the rubes?” “"S that so? Who’s working besides you?” 3 COMMIE OOO KSq(COMA) all fae ee ee eS <—