"Getting a merchant's attention," said the furnishing goods man, "is the main thing. You may get a man to answer your questions in a sort of a way but you really do not have his attention always when he talks to you. You would better not call on a man at all than go at him in a listless sort of a way. This is where the old timer has the bulge over the new man. I once knew a man who had been a successful clerk for many years who started on the road with a line of pants. He had worked for one of my old customers. I chanced to meet him, when I was starting on my trip, at the very time when he was making his maiden effort at selling a bill to the man for whom he had been working. Of course this was a push-over for him because his old employer gave him an order as a compliment.
"Well, sir, when that fellow learned that I was going West—this was on the Northern Pacific—he hung right on to me and said he would like to go along. Of course, I told him I should be very glad to have him do so, and that I would do for him whatever I could. But here he made a mistake. When a man starts out on the road he must paddle his own canoe. It is about as much as his friend can do to sell his own line of goods, much less to put in a boost for somebody else. And, furthermore, a man who takes a young chick under his wing will often cut off some of his own feed. Still, this fellow had always been very friendly with me and I told him, 'Why, to be sure, Henry; come right along with me.'
"In the second and third towns that we made, he picked up a couple of small bills that just about paid his expenses. He was just beginning to find that the road was not such an easy path to travel as, in his own mind, he had cracked it up to be.
"The next town we struck was Bismarck, North Dakota. We got in there about three o'clock in the morning. It was Thanksgiving Day. To be sure, I went to bed and had a good sleep. A man must always feel fresh, you know, if he expects to do any work.
"It was about eleven o'clock before I breakfasted, opened up, and started across the street. My old customer had burned out there and I, too, had to go out and rustle some man. Just as I started over toward town, I met my German friend Henry coming back. His face looked like a full moon shining through a cloud. I could see that there was trouble on his mind.
"'Well, Henry, how goes it?' said I.
"'Id don't go so goot,' said he. 'But vat can a man expect on Danksgifing? I vent to see von man and he said, "I haf an olt house dat alvays dreats me right, so vat's de use of chanching?" Vell, vat archument could I make against dot? I vent in to see anodder man and he said, "I haf an olt friend dot I buy from," and vat archument could I make against dot? I vent in to see still anodder, and he said, "I haf just bought," so, vat archument could I make against dot? The next man I vent to see said, "Mein Gott, man; don'd you suppose I am going to rest von day in de year? So I t'ought dere vas no use fooling mit him, so I t'ink I vill pack op and eat a goot dinner and take a goot nap and go vest again in de morning.'
"'All right, Henry,' said I; 'but I guess I'll go over and try my luck.'
"The first man that I went to see was the one who had said to my friend Henry that he thought he ought to have one day in the year to rest. He was the biggest merchant in the town in my line. When I reached his store he was putting the key in the door to lock up and go home for his Thanksgiving dinner.
"I couldn't talk to him out there in the cold—we were strangers—so I said to him, 'I should like to buy a couple of collars if you please.' He sold me the collars and then, just for a bluff, I made out that mine was hurting me and took a few minutes to put on another one. I didn't say anything about what my business was and the merchant, in order to have something to say, asked, 'Are you a stranger in town?'