III. THE ADVENTURE OF THE LAME AND THE HALT
I HAD not seen Perkins for over two years, when one day he opened myoffice door, and stuck his head in. I did not see his face at first, butI recognized the hat. It was the same hat he had worn two years before,when he put the celebrated Perkins's Patent Porous Plaster on themarket.
"Pratt's Hats Air the Hair." You will remember the advertisement. It wason all the bill-boards. It was Perkins, Perkins of Portland, Perkinsthe Great, who conceived the rhyme that sold millions of the hats; andPerkins was a believer in advertising and things advertised. So hewore a Pratt hat. That was one of Perkins's foibles. He believed in thethings he advertised.
"Get next to a thing," he would say. "Study it, learn to love it, useit--then you will know how to boom it. Take Murdock's Soap. Perkins ofPortland boomed it. He bought a cake. Used it. Used it on his hands,on his face, on his feet. Bought another cake--washed his cotton socks,washed his silk tie, washed his woollen underwear. Bought anothercake--shaved with it, shampooed with it, ate it. Yes, sir, ate it!Pure soap--no adulteration. No taste of rosin, cottonseed--no taste ofanything but soap, and lots of that. Spit out lather for a month! Everytime I sneezed I blew a big soap-bubble--perspired little soap-bubbles.Tasted soap for a year! Result? Greatest ad. of the nineteenth century.'Murdock's Soap is pure soap. If you don't believe it, bite it.' Pictureof a nigger biting a cake of soap on every billboard in U. S. A. Liveniggers in all the grocery windows biting cakes of Murdock's Soap.Result? Five hundred thousand tons of Murdock's sold the first year. Iuse no other." And so, from his "Go-lightly" shoes to his Pratt'shat, Perkins was a relic of bygone favorites in dress. The result wascomical, but it was Perkins; and I sprang from my chair and grasped hishand.
"Perkins!" I cried.
He raised his free hand with a restraining motion, and I noticed hisfingers protruded from the tips of the glove.
"Say," he said, still standing on my threshold, "have you a littletime?"
I glanced at my watch. I had twenty minutes before I must catch mytrain.
"I'll give you ten minutes," I said.
"Not enough," said Perkins. "I want a year. But I'll take ten minutes onaccount. Owe me the rest!"
He turned and beckoned into the hall, and a small boy appeared carryinga very large glass demijohn. Perkins placed the demijohn on a chair, andstood back gazing at it admiringly.
"Great, isn't it?" he asked. "Biggest demijohn made. Heavy as lead! Fineshape, fine size! But, say--read that!"
I bent down and read. The label said: "Onotowatishika Water. Bottled atthe spring. Perkins & Co., Glaubus, Ia."
I began spelling out the name by syllables, "O--no--to--wat--" whenPerkins clapped me on the back.
"Great, hey? Can't pronounce it? Nobody can. Great idea. Got old HunyadiJanos water knocked into a cocked hat. Hardest mineral water name onearth. Who invented it? I did. Perkins of Portland. There's money inthat name. Dead loads of money. Everybody that can't pronounce it willwant it, and nobody can pronounce it--everybody'll want it. Must haveit. Will weep for it. But that isn't the best!"
"No?" I inquired.
"No!" shouted Perkins. "I should say 'no!' Look at that bottle. Look atthe size of it. Look at the weight of it Awful, isn't it? Staggers thebrain of man to think of carrying that across the continent! Naturerecoils, the muscles ache. It is vast, it is immovable, it is mighty.Say!"
Perkins grasped me by the coat-sleeve, and drew me toward him. Hewhispered excitedly.
"Great idea! O-no-to-what-you-may-call-it water. Big jug full. Jugtoo blamed big. Yes? Freight too much. Yes? Listen--'Perkins Pays theFreight!'"
He sat down suddenly, and beamed upon me joyfully.
The advertising possibilities of the thing impressed me immediately.Who could resist the temptation of getting such a monstrous package ofglassware by freight free of charge? I saw the effect of a life-sizereproduction of the bottle on the bill-boards with "Perkins Pays theFreight" beneath it in red, and the long name in a semicircle ofyellow letters above it. I saw it reduced in the magazine pages, instreet-cars--everywhere.
"Great?" queried Perkins.
"Yes," I admitted thoughtfully, "it is great."
He was at my side in an instant.
"Wonderful effect of difficulty overcome on the human mind!" he bubbled."Take a precipice. People look over, shudder, turn away. Put in ashoot-the-chutes. People fight to get the next turn to slide down. Sameidea. People don't want O-no-to-thing-um-bob water. Hold on, 'Perkinspays the freight!' All right, send us a demijohn!"
I saw that Perkins was, as usual, right.
"Very well," I said, "what do you want me to do about it?"
Perkins wanted a year of my time, and all the money I could spare.He mentioned twenty thousand dollars as a little beginning--a sort ofstarter, as he put it. I had faith in Perkins, but twenty thousand was alarge sum to put into a thing on the strength of a name and a phrase. Isettled myself in my chair, and Perkins put his feet up on my desk. Healways could talk better when his feet were tilted up. Perhaps it sent agreater flow of blood to his brain.
"Now about the water?" I asked comfortably.
"Vile!" cackled Perkins, gleefully. "Perfectly vile! It is the worst youever tasted. You know the sulphur-spring taste? Sort of bad-egg aroma?Well, this O-no-to-so-forth water is worse than the worst. It's abonanza! Say! It's sulphur water with a touch of garlic." He reachedinto his pocket, and brought out a flask. The water it contained wasas clear and sparkling as crystal. He removed the cork, and handed theflask to me. I sniffed at it, and hastily replaced the cork.
Perkins grinned with pleasure.
"Fierce, isn't it?" he asked. "Smells as if it ought to cure, don't it?Got the real old style matery-medica-'pothecary-shop aroma. None of yourlittle-pill, sugar-coated business about O-no-to-cetera water.Not for a minute! It's the good old quinine, ipecac, calomel,know-when-you're-taking-dose sort. Why, say! Any man that takes a doseof that water has got to feel better. He deserves to feel better."
I sniffed at the flask again, and resolutely returned it to Perkins.
"Yes," I admitted, "it has the full legal allowance of smell. There'sno doubt about it being a medicinal water. Nobody would mistake it fora table water, Perkins. A child would know it wasn't meant for perfume;but what is it good for? What will it cure?"
Perkins tilted his Pratt hat over one ear, and crossed his legs.
"Speaking as one Chicago man to another," he said slowly, "what do youthink of rheumatism?"
"If you want me to speak as man to man, Perkins," I replied, "I may saythat rheumatism is a mighty uncomfortable disease."
"It's prevalent," said Perkins, eagerly. "It's the most prevalentdisease on the map. The rich must have it; the poorest can affordit; the young and the old simply roll in it! Why, man," he exclaimed,"rheumatism was made 'specially for O-no-to-so-forth water. There'smillions and millions of cases of rheumatism, and there's oceans andoceans of Perkins's World-Famous O-no-to-what-you-call-it water. Great?What will cure rheumatism? Nothing! What will O-no-to-so-on water cure?Nothing! There you are! They fit each other like a foot in a shoe."
He leaned back, and smiled. Then he waved his hand jauntily in the air.
"But I'm not partial," he added. "If you can think of a better disease,we'll cure it. Anything!"
"Perkins," I said, "would you take this water for rheumatism?"
"Would I? Say! If I had rheumatism I'd live on it. I'd drink it by thegallon. I'd bathe in it--"
He stopped abruptly, and a smile broke forth at one corner of his mouth,and gradually spread over his face until it broke into a broad grin,which he vainly endeavored to stifle.
"Warm!" he murmured, and then his grin broadened a little, and hemuttered--"Lukewarm!"--and grinned again, and ran his hand through hishair. He sat down and slapped his knee.
"Say!" he cried, "Greatest idea yet! I'm a benefactor! Think of the poorold people trying to drink that stuff! Think of them trying to force itdown their throats! It wo
uld be a sin to make a dog drink it!"
He wiped an actual tear from his eye.
"What if I had to drink it! What if my poor old mother had to drink it!Cruelty! But we won't make 'em. We will be good! We will be generous! Wewill be great! We will let them bathe in it. Twice a day! Morning andnight! Lukewarm! Why make weak human beings swallow it? And besides,they'll need more! Think of enough O-no-to-so-forth water to swim intwice a day, and good old Perkins paying the freight!"
Without another word I reached over and clasped Perkins by the hand. Itwas a silent communion of souls--of the souls of two live, up-to-dateChicagoans. When the clasp was loosened, we were bound together ina noble purpose to supply O-no-to-something water to a waiting,pain-cursed world. We were banded together like good Samaritans tosupply a remedy to the lame and the halt. And Perkins paying thefreight.
Then Perkins gave me the details. There were to be three of us in thedeal. There was a young man from Glaubus, Ia., in Chicago, running astreet-car on the North Side. He had been raised near Glaubus, and hisfather had owned a farm; but the old man was no financier, and soldoff the place bit by bit, until all that was left was a forty-acreswamp,--"Skunk Swamp," they called it, because of the rank water,--and when the old man died, the son came to Chicago to earn a living. Hebrought along a flask of the swamp water, so that when he got homesick,he could take out the cork, smell it, and be glad he was in Chicago,instead of on the old place. Up in the corner of the swamp a springwelled up; and that spring spouted Onotowatishika water day and night,gallons, and barrels, and floods of it.
But it needed a Perkins the Great to know its value. Perkins smelledits value the first whiff he got. He had a rough map of Glaubus with theSkunk Swamp off about a mile to the west.
We patched up the deal the next day. The young fellow was to have aquarter-interest, because he put in the forty acres, and Perkins put inhis time and talent for half the balance; and I got the remainder for mytime and money. We wanted the young fellow to take a third interest, andput in his time, too; but he said that rather than go back to the oldplace, he would take a smaller share, and get a job in some nice sweetspot, like the stock-yards or a fertilizer factory. So Perkins and Ipacked up, and went out to Glaubus.
When we got within two miles of Glaubus, Perkins stuck his head out ofthe car window, and drew it back, covered with smiles.
"Smell it?" he asked. "Great! You can smell it way out here! Wait tillwe get on the ground! It must be wonderful!"
I did not wonder, when the train pulled up at the Glaubus Station, thatthe place was a small, dilapidated village, nor that the inhabitantswore a care-worn, hopeless expression. There was too muchOnoto-watishika water in the air. But Perkins glowed with joy.
"Smell it?" he asked eagerly. "Great 'ad.!' You can't get away from it.You can't forget it. And look at this town. Look at the bare walls! Nota sign on any of them! Not a bill-board in the place! Not an 'ad.' ofany kind in sight! Perkins, my boy, this is heaven for you! This is pieand nuts!"
I must confess that I was not so joyous over the prospect. I began totire of Ono-towatishika water already. I suggested to Perkins that weought to have an agency in Chicago, and hinted that I knew all aboutrunning agencies properly; but he said I would get used to the odorpresently, and in time come to love it and long for it when I was awayfrom it. I told him that doubtless he was right, but that I thought itwould do me good to go away before my love got too violent. But Perkinsnever could see a joke, and it was wasted on him. He walked me right outto the swamp, and stood there an hour just watching the water bubble up.It seemed to do him good.
There was no shanty in the village good enough for our office, sothat afternoon we bought a vacant lot next to the post-office for fivedollars, and arranged to have a building put up for our use; and then,as there was nothing else for us to do, until the next train came along,Perkins sat around thinking. And something always happened when Perkinsthought.
In less than an hour Perkins set off to find the mayor and thecouncilmen and a notary public. He had a great idea.
They had a park in Glaubus,--a full block of weeds and rank growth,--andPerkins showed the mayor what a disgrace that park was to a town of thesize and beauty of Glaubus. He said there ought to be a fountain andwalks and benches where people could sit in the evenings. The mayorallowed that was so, but didn't see where the cash was to come from.
Perkins told him. Here we are, he said, two public-spirited men comeover from Chicago to bottle up the old skunk spring, and make Glaubusfamous. Glaubus was to be our home, and already we had contracted fora beautiful one-story building, with a dashboard front, to make it looklike two stories. If Glaubus treated us right, we would treat Glaubusright. Didn't the mayor want to help along his city?
The mayor certainly did, if he didn't have to pay out nothin'.
All right, then, Perkins said, there was that old Skunk Swamp. We weregoing to bottle up a lot of the water that came out of the spring andship it away; and that would help to clean the air, for the less water,the less smell. All Perkins wanted was to have those forty acres ofswamp that we owned plotted as town lots, and taken in as the GlaubusLand and Improvement Company's Addition to the town of Glaubus. It wouldcost the village nothing; and, as fast as Perkins got rid of the lots,the village could assess taxes on them, and the taxes would pay for thepark.
The mayor and the council didn't see but what that was a square deal,so they called a special meeting right there; and in half an hour we hadthe whole thing under way.
"But, Perky," I said, when we were on the train hurrying back toChicago, "how are you going to sell those lots? They are nothing but mudand water, and no sane man would even think of paying money for them.Why, if the lot next the post-office is worth five dollars, those lotsa mile away from it, and ten feet deep in mud, wouldn't be worth twocopper cents."
"Sell?" said Perkins, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of hiscelebrated "Baffin Bay" pants. "Sell? Who wants to sell? We'll give 'emaway! What does the public want? Something for nothing! What does itcovet? Real estate! All right, we give 'em real estate for nothing! Alot in the Glaubus Land and Improvement Company's Addition to the townof Glaubus free for ten labels soaked from O-no-to-thing-um-bob waterbottles. Send in your labels, and get a real deed for the lot, with ared seal on it. And Perkins pays the freight!"
Did it go? Does anything that Perkins the Great puts his soul intogo? It went with a rush. We looked up the rheumatism statistics of theUnited States, and, wherever there was a rheumatism district, we billedthe barns and fences. We sent circulars and "follow-up" letters, andadvertised in local and county papers. We shipped the water by singledemijohns at first, and then in half-dozen crates, and then in car-lots.We established depots in the big business centres, and took up magazineadvertising on a big scale. Wherever man met man, the catchwords,"Perkins pays the freight," were bandied to and fro. "How can you afforda new hat?" "Oh, 'Perkins pays the freight'!"
The comic papers made jokes about it, the daily papers made cartoonsabout it, no vaudeville sketch was complete without a reference toPerkins paying the freight, and the comic opera hit of the year was theone in which six jolly girls clinked champagne glasses while singing thesong ending:
"To us no pleasure lost is, And we go a merry gait; We don't care what the cost is, For Perkins pays the freight."
As for testimonials, we scooped in twenty-four members of Congress,eight famous operatic stars, eighty-eight ministers, and dead loads ofothers.
And our lots in the Glaubus Land and Improvement Company's Addition tothe town of Glaubus? We began by giving full-sized dwelling-houselots. Then we cut it down to business-lot size; and, as the labels keptpouring in, we reduced the lots to cemetery lot size. We had lot ownersin Alaska, Mexico, and the Philippines; and the village of Glaubus fixedup its park, and even paved the main street with taxes. Whenever a lotowner refused to pay his taxes, the deed was cancelled; and we split thelot up into smaller lots, and distributed them to new label
savers.
We also sent agents to organize Rheumatism Clubs in the large cities.That was Perkins's greatest idea, but it was too great.
One morning as Perkins was opening the mail, he paused with a letteropen before him, and let his jaw drop. I walked over and laid my hand onhis shoulder.
"What is it, Perky?" I asked.
He lay back in his chair, and gazed at me blankly. Then he spoke.
"The lame and the halt," he murmured. "They are coming. They are cominghere. Read it?"
He pushed the letter toward me feebly. It was from the correspondingsecretary of the Grand Rapids Rheumatic Club. It said:
"Gentlemen:--The members of the club have used Onotowatishika water forover a year, and are delighted to testify to its merits. In fact, wehave used so much that each member now owns several lots in theGlaubus Land and Improvement Company's Addition to the town of Glaubus;and, feeling that our health depends on the constant and unremittinguse of your healing waters, we have decided as a whole to emigrate toGlaubus, where we may be near the source of the waters, and secure themas they arise bubbling from the bosom of Mother Earth. We have withheldthis pleasant knowledge from you until we had completed our arrangementsfor deserting Grand Rapids, in order that the news might come to you asa grateful surprise. We have read in your circulars of the beautifuland natural advantages of Glaubus, and particularly of the charm of theGlaubus Land and Improvement Company's Addition to the town of Glaubus,and we will come prepared to rear homes on the land which has beenallotted to us. We leave to-day."
I looked at Perkins. He had wilted.
"Perky," I said, "cheer up. It's nothing to be sad about. But I feelthat I have been overworking. I'm going to take a vacation. I'm going toChicago, and I'm going to-day; but you can stay and reap the rewardof their gratitude. I am only a secondary person. You are theirbenefactor."
Perkins didn't take my remarks in the spirit in which they were meant.He jumped up and slammed his desk-lid, and locked it, banged the door ofthe safe, and, grabbing his Pratt hat, crushed it on his head. He gaveone quick glance around the office, another at the clock, and bolted forthe door. I saw that he was right. The train was due in two minutes; andit was the train from Chicago on which the Grand Rapids Rheumatic Clubwould arrive.
When we reached the station, the train was just pulling in; and, aswe jumped aboard, the Grand Rapids delegation disembarked. Some hadcrutches and some had canes, some limped and some did not seem to bedisabled. In fact, a good many seemed to be odiously able-bodied; andthere was one who looked like a retired coal-heaver.
It was beautiful to see them sniffing the air as they stepped from thetrain. They were like a lot of children on the morning of circus day.
They gathered on the station platform, and gave their club yell; andthen one enthusiastic old gentleman jumped upon a box and shouted:--
"What's the matter with Perkins?"
The club, by their loudly unanimous reply, signified that Perkins wasall right But as I looked in the face of Perkins the Great, I felt thatI could have given a more correct answer. I knew what was the matterwith Perkins. He wanted to get away from the vulgar throng. He wantedthat train to pull out And it did.
As we passed out of the town limits, we heard the Grand Rapids RheumaticClub proclaiming in unison that Perkins was--
"First in peace! First in war! First in the hearts of his countrymen!"
But that was before they visited their real estate holdings.