As for Barrifield, he seemed stupefied. He had started the wind, but the cyclone it had grown to was whirling him along faster than he could follow; also the memory of Frisby and Bibles still clung to him somewhat, despite this new and startling method of taking fortune by storm. He started to speak, but Perner, who had taken on fuel enough for a long run, was too quick for him.
"When the first round of the first issue has been going out one day," he said with conviction, "those subscriptions will begin to come. Each subscription will bring twenty new names, and that'll mean another round of the first issue, and the checking off in the books of the people that have subscribed, showing just who sent them and what he is entitled to in cash."
"We'll send it to him in a check," said Van Dorn. "Checks always look well."
"Then," continued Perner, "when these new names begin to come, we'll commence on the third round of the first issue to the names they send, and so on to a fourth and even a fifth. We must send as many rounds of the first issue as possible, for it contains the first chapters of our serials."
"That's so!" interjected Livingstone, "it does!"
"Of course, our first and second issues," Perner went on, "will have to be dated ahead, because we'll start on them about the 1st of October. But the third issue can come in in regular place, and by the time we get to the third round of the first issue, and the second round of the second issue, and the first round of the third issue, we'll have all the names in this country; and by the second round of the third issue they will all be on our subscription books, and we'll have—even counting that only one out of four families subscribe—we'll have four million subscribers, and at least three million dollars in the bank to get out the paper with for a year, to say nothing of the advertisements, which will bring in on a circulation like that at least twelve thousand dollars a page, or, allowing three pages, about one million eight hundred thousand dollars a year in round numbers."
The clams had come and gone, and the meat had been served. Barrifield made a feeble attempt to do the honors, and Livingstone shaped his lips as if to speak. Neither effort was successful. The four sat silent, looking far beyond the fear of penury and the dreams of avarice into a land where mountains were banked with jewels and all the rivers ran gold. Indeed, the face of Livingstone seemed glorified by a sort of ecstasy. The revulsion fell first upon Van Dorn, and wakened in him that spirit of the ludicrous which was never far distant from any of them.
"It's all right, of course," he began with assumed gravity. "We're certain to be millionaires when we get to going, but what I want to know is whether, in the meantime, we can stand off the printer."
The others laughed.
"You see, I know printers," continued Van Dorn. "I had a cousin who was a printer, and I've seen fellows try to stand him off. He nearly always had his sleeves rolled up, and when a man came to stand him off, he used to walk back to the sink, with the fellow following and talking; and my cousin would wash his hands under the tap while he listened, and then wipe them on the towel that hung over it. You never saw a printer's towel, did you? Well, it isn't a very cheerful thing, and my cousin was just about as cheerful as it was. He'd stand there and listen, and wipe and listen, and not say anything, while the fellow'd talk and talk and look at that towel that hadn't been washed since the shop opened. Then he'd look at my cousin and say some of the things over again in a discouraged sort of a way, and commence to miss connection and slip cogs, and pretty soon he'd sneak off, and my cousin would give one more wipe on the paleozoic towel, and then walk back and say a few things to the press-boys that would knock chunks out of the imposing-stone. Now, what I want to know is if we can go to that fellow with his sleeves rolled up and get the second round of the first issue or the first round of any old issue without the money down."