Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

600 to do. TU bring your trunk over this afternoon. See you at five o’clock.” ITT. JOHNNY was in his element. He sud- denly found himself with two weighty problems to think about, and planning their solutions was the next best thing to physical activity. Once more he sat at his desk and erected, in his mind, the Spruce Moun- tain Sanatorium. The institution’s first patient would be Gordon Allister. The magnificent view from the mountain top would be a sufficient tonic for the most disillusioned creature. But once more he came up against the same old barrier. Who would fur- nish the money for this enterprise and, granting that it would ever become an accomplished reality, how was the prob- lem of adequate transportation facili- ties to be solved? He was no nearer the answers to those questions when Colonel Hacket returned from the other end of the line. The colonel arrived on Number Two one night, but did not come to see John- ny until the next morning. He found the young man engrossed in thought. A considerable amount of dust had been allowed to accumulate during his absence and papers of vari- ous kinds were to be found where they did not belong, all due to the absent- mindedness of the self-appointed sta- tion porter. “Judging from appearances,” the colonel commented, “I would say that you have already obviated our difficul- ties. I am all ears this morning, my boy,’’ and he eased himself into a chair. “T’m afraid I haven’t anything very valuable to offer,” said Johnny. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, but the best I have been able to do is enlarge on the subject of health resorts. That moun- tain top up there ”’—he pointed out the --window—* would be an ideal place for a sanatorium. The only difficulty, col- onel, is money.” ( ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “A very tangible difficulty,” agreed the colonel. “ Anybody can he a vicari- ous millionaire. One good dollar in the hand, Johnny, is worth two in the head.” “Well, I’ve been thinking,” said Johnny, “why it wouldn’t be worth your while, colonel, to finance a project of that sort and then improve your pas- senger service to meet the demands of invalid passengers.” ““ Because,” answered the colonel, “T lack the one essential element to carry out that suggestion. It takes all I can rake together to keep this old road navigating. In the second place, I’m a railroad man, pure and simple. The only way to succeed in this world, Johnny, is to go in for one thing and stick to it. : “There is only one thing I could do,” he went on. “In the event of a resort of any kind being erected here, I would promise better equipment and better service if the prospects of my revenue being increased were prom- ising. I have negotiated with a good many enterprises on that basis, young man, but nothing has ever come of it. The situation is discouraging to an old duffer like me.” They were silent for a moment. “ At any rate,” Johnny broke out presently, “ your promise obviates one thing that has been bothering me. The only question now is one of money. Speaking of money, colonel, I’ve had a peculiar experience since you were here before.” He told of the arrival in town of Gordon Allister, and gave a_ brief résumé of the man’s ailments. “Did you say Gordon Allister?” the colonel asked. “SV em . “And you’ve never heard of him?” “All I know about him is what he has told me himself. I guess he made quite some money with an invention of some kind.” “TI guess he did,” the colonel agreed. “He invented one of the first electric (E00) DOOKS mnie (C@)