"'What's this?' said he.
"'I'm treed,' said the drayman. 'They're as heavy as lead.'
[Illustration: "I'm treed," said the drayman, "they're as heavy as lead.">[
"With this the drayman rolled the cases into the druggist's store. Well, sir, he was the cheapest looking fellow you ever saw, but he kept the goods, all right, and this cured him of cancelitis."
CHAPTER XIII.
CONCERNING CREDIT MEN.
The credit man was the subject of our talk as a crowd of us sat, one Sunday afternoon, in the writing-room of the Palace Hotel at San Francisco. The big green palm in the center of the room cast, from its drooping and fronded branches, shadows upon the red rugs carpeting the stone floor. This was a peaceful scene and wholly unfitting to the subject of our talk.
"I would rather herd sheep in a blizzard," blurted out the clothing man, "than make credits. Yes, I would rather brake on a night way- freight; be a country doctor where the roads are always muddy; a dray horse on a granite-paved street; anything for me before being a credit man! It is the most thankless job a human being can hold. It is like being squeezed up against the dock by a big steamship. If you ship goods and they're not paid for, the house kicks; if you turn down orders sent in, the traveling man raises a howl. None of it for me. No, sir!"
"I have always been fairly lucky," spoke up the hat man. "I've never been with but two houses in my life and I've really never had any trouble with my credit men. They were both reasonable, broad-minded, quick-witted, diplomatic gentlemen. If a man's credit were doubtful in their minds, they would usually ask me about him, or even wire me, sometimes, if an order were in a rush, to tell them what I thought of the situation. And they would always pay attention to what I said."
"Well, you are one in a hundred," spoke out the clothing man. "You ought to shake hands with yourself. You don't know what a hard time I've had with the various men who've made credits on the goods I have sold.