Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

520 ‘ “Nope. Won’t be in to-day. Gone up South Cafion. Up to Frazer’s.” “Up to Frazer’s?” Steve remembered the professor’s strange sleeping spell. May- or Doc Hamilton was the Frazer family’s physician. “ Anybody sick up there?” “Not as I know of,” replied the clerk. Wondering, Steve went on. Had those New Yorkers undertaken to use the mayor in getting the better of Frazer? Was there any relation between their visit to the may- or last night and his trip to-day? Banker Benjy Dawes sat at the head of the table in the directors’ room concealing his soul behind a leathery face as lacking in expression as a complexion mask. Facing him from the foot of the table was Samuel Schwartz, the smelter man, dis- spirited and apprehensive. Between them were Moses Lambert, father of Editor Dick; Lem Quinn, the hardware man, Peter Harley, the wholesale grocer, and A. P. Horner. Substantial citizens all. They looked up as Steve Brown entered, and all nodded to him except Mr. Horner, who gazed out of the bank window at the gasoline pump of the Red Star Garage across the street. “Mr. Brown,” spoke Banker Dawes, “‘ we all are friends and—ahem—friends, as I say, of Mr. Schwartz, here, and we are more or less interested in his smelting plant. He tells us of a proposition you made him this morning. We should like to hear about it from you.” Promoter Steve Brown repeated what he had told the smelter man at an earlier hour. The ore was in the hills, waiting to be mined. The smelter was here in town, wait- ing for work. What he proposed to do was to bring the ore to the smelter. Said Benjy Dawes, “ How do you know tthe ore is worth $100 a ton?” “ Frazer guarantees it. The Denver as- sayer’s figures back him up.” ‘You say the Lutwell Syndicate of New York has been there?”’ “This week. They made Frazer a sort of offer. He didn’t like it, so I put in one of my own.” “What’s the matter with local capital?” the banker snorted. ‘“ Why didn’t Frazer let his friends come in on this good thing?” = en ae A er ee OO aE Pe er 10! A ants + ye ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘Perhaps Mr. Horner can tell,’ Steve suggested. ‘Tell what?” snapped Horner, taking his mind off the red pump. “Why,” said Dawes, “did an Eastern syndicate get wind of Frazer’s find before we did? Why did he leave us out in the cold? There’s money in Boulton. I might have taken a flyer myself.” “IT don’t know why,” Horner answered, with a stare at Steve. The man lied, as Steve Brown knew. Horner had dared to dream of owning the Frazer mine in part or whole. He had coun- seled the Frazers to keep strict silence re- garding the thing. He had not wanted any one in Boulton to hear of it. True, at the instance of the young women, he had written the Lutwell Syndi- cate in Frazer’s behalf; but such a letter as to discourage the Lutwells from taking any interest in the matter. Steve had heard that letter of Horner’s. Only through a chance remembrance had the syndicate learned Frazer’s identity and so followed up the tip with a personal inspection of the property. Steve shrugged. It was not for him to call a prominent business man 4a _ liar. Banker Dawes glanced from the young man’s face to Horner’s and shrugged like- wise. “ Thank you for coming in, Mr. Brown,” said he. All spoke as soon as Steve had left thé” bank. But A. P. Horner spoke loudest. “Gentlemen, as friends of Professor Frazer’s we can’t let that fool boy’s scheme go any further. It’s crazy. Besides, young Brown is unsafe. We all know his record. How can he make good on a shoestring gamble like this? He will run Frazer in the hole. He—” Banker Dawes lifted a hand for order. “‘ A friend of ours,” said he, “‘ has come forward with a lump of money to invest in smelter stock.” “Who?” cried Horner. “‘ Mayor Hamilton, if you have to know.” “ But he—but he hasn’t got any money,” Horner protested. ‘‘ Why, he’s so blamed f."? “We know all about that,” said Dawes Gomicbooks (C@