CHAPTER XIII.
A STROKE OF LUCK.
"Something has got to be done," said the young advance agent.
"Everything possible has been done," returned the manager, pettishly."The amount of the thing is that we have struck an unlucky night, andthere's no help for it."
"Maybe there is," said Al, quietly. "I mean to have a big houseto-morrow night somehow or other."
The manager laughed sarcastically.
"I've heard beginners like you talk before," he said. "You think you aregoing to set the river on fire, but the river is not inflammable. Iadmire your nerve. I've heard how you drummed up business in Boomville,and you did well. But you can't do that sort of thing all the time. Myfriend, Wattles, wrote and told me that you would work things so thatthe house would be full when his company played, but he made a mistakethat time."
"Did Mr. Wattles say that?" cried Al.
"He did; and I was surprised at it, for Wattles is not usually a verysanguine man."
"If he said it, I'll do it," announced the boy.
Again his companion laughed.
"There's nothing like youthful enthusiasm," he said, "and I acknowledgethat it cuts lots of ice at times--but not every time. You might as welltry to square the circle as to get a crowd here to-morrow evening. Itcan't be done."
"We'll see," responded Al, with the most confident air he could assume.
The task before him was a hard one, apparently an impossible one, but heresolved that he would try to accomplish it.
"Sail ahead, and do it if you can," said the manager, with somethingvery much like a sneer. "I shall watch your methods with interest."
"It's a pity," said Al, "that you have only one morning paper here. Nowif----"
"Oh," interrupted his companion, yawning, "we'll have another to-morrowmorning."
"How is that?"
"A young dude named Marcus, with more money than brains--and not verymuch of either, by the way--is to issue the first number of a new dailyto-morrow morning. He is going to call it the _Bugle_, I believe."
"It being the first issue," suggested Al, "it is likely to have a goodsale. Wouldn't it be a good scheme to spend a little extra inadvertising in it?"
"My lad," said the manager, wearily, "your ideas are primitive in theextreme. I have given them my usual size ad., and even if I wanted anymore space--which I don't--I couldn't get it, for the paper is about allmade up now. Oh, we can't do anything against the circus, and thatsettles that matter."
It did not settle the matter with Al, however. He returned to hishotel, and spent what was left of the afternoon in trying to devise someplan to arouse public interest in the performance of the New York ComedyCompany.
He worked at the problem until his head ached, but the harder he thoughtthe farther he seemed to be from a solution.
In the evening he went down to the restaurant connected with the hotel,quite discouraged.
There was no one in the room when he entered; but a few minutes latertwo men, both of them evidently very much excited, came in and seatedthemselves near him.
After a glance at the boy and a hurried order to the waiter, theyresumed a conversation in which they had been engaged when they entered.
Al could not help overhearing nearly every word they said, for in theirexcitement they spoke louder than they thought.
"I tell you, Marcus," he heard one of the men say, "it's a badknockout."
Marcus! Al remembered that this was the name of the proprietor of thenew paper. He was, as the manager had said, a rather dudish-lookingyoung fellow, but his face was by no means indicative of a lack ofbrains.
"The worst of it is," added Mr. Marcus, "that the _Banner_ people willhave the grand laugh on us. They have been poking fun at the 'amateurdaily,' as they call it, ever since the _Bugle_ was announced; now theywill go for us."
Al was now interested; for the time he forgot his own worries. Whatcould the trouble be in the office of the new paper?
"They'll have a good chance," said Mr. Marcus' friend. "Really, my dearsir, I can't see how you could have made such a break. The idea ofaccepting a full-page ad. for 'Dr. Gurgles' Metallic Liver Pads,' onlyto find that there is no such thing on the market, and that you havebeen made the victim of a practical joker! I wish I had had charge ofthe business end of the thing, this would not have happened."
"I dare say not, but don't reproach me, for I'm too much broken up tostand it. The question is, how are we going to fill up that page? I'vebeen boasting, right and left, about the phenomenal amount of bona-fideads. the first number of the _Bugle_ would contain, and now we are afull page short. And I've told a number of people that we were to have apage ad. from a well-known concern--something the _Banner_ never had."
"Have you told anyone what the concern was?"
"No."
"Then perhaps you could get some firm in town to take the page."
"I'd let 'em have it at any price. But, no, it wouldn't do; I shouldhave to own up how I had been victimized. Besides, it's too late now,anyhow. Why, nearly the whole paper is in type, and one side isprinted."
"Well, what are you going to do with that page?"
"I give it up."
Al rose from his seat and approached the table where the two gentlemenwere seated.
"Perhaps I can help out, sir," he said.
Mr. Marcus started from his chair, his face flushed with anger.
"You've been listening, boy!" he exclaimed.
"I have; I couldn't very well help it, for you spoke in a loud tone."
"That's so, Marcus," added the other gentleman. "A public restaurant isnot just the place to talk over such a matter."
"Well," said Marcus, glaring at Al, "I suppose you mean to go and telleveryone in town what you have heard?"
"I don't know anyone in town, and if I did I shouldn't repeat a word. AsI just said, I think I can help you out."
"You! How?"
"You said you'd let that page go at any price?"
"I did."
"Perhaps I will take it. I couldn't afford to do anything like regularrates, but perhaps by helping you out I can get a lot of advertisingalmost free. I tell you frankly that is my object, and I give you myword that no one shall know anything about the transaction."
Mr. Marcus and his companion stared at Al in amazement.
"Well," said the former, "you are a queer youngster. Who the mischiefare you--another practical joker?"
"No. I am Allen Allston, advance agent of Wattles' New York ComedyCompany, which plays here to-morrow night."
"A lad like you occupying a position like that?" exclaimed Mr. Marcus.
"Just so, sir. Now, what will you let us have that page for?"
"Perhaps your employer would repudiate the bill."
"I'll pay it myself, right here and now."
"I'll take you up. You can have the page for one hundred dollars. Whencan I have the copy?"
"Not at all at that price," replied Al, coolly. "The page wouldn't beworth that much to us. I'll give you fifty dollars, cash now, and thecopy in an hour or less."
After a moment's hesitation, the proprietor of the _Bugle_ said:
"Done! Give me the fifty dollars, and I'll give you a receipt for fourhundred. But mind, mum's the word about this deal."
"You may depend upon me, sir."
"But," asked Mr. Marcus, "how are you going to have a full page of copyready in an hour?"
"I'll get it ready," replied Al. "Your foreman will have it on time."
He handed the publisher the fifty dollars, and received a receipt forfour hundred.
"Well," said Mr. Marcus, "you have a head for business, and no mistake."
"I hope so," said Al, modestly; "but this transaction does not proveit."
"I think it does."
"My overhearing your conversation was only blind luck."
"Yes; but many a man would not have been smart and quick enough to takeadvantage of it. The successful business man is he who seizes upon theluc
ky accidents that others pass by, and turns them to his ownadvantage. You'll get along, my boy."