“Who’s said anything about pay?” retorted the president. “You’re like a good many hard working men, George. You assume a fact, and then work backwards from it. Let’s see what the boy has to say. Roy, do you think it’s too much risk for too little pay?”
“No,” exclaimed the boy, “because I guess the company’ll do what’s right.”
“And what’s that?” continued Mr. Atkinson, looking at Mr. Osborne with a smile.
“Since you’ve asked,” answered Roy, “I should say it ought to buy my outfit, about one hundred dollars; advance my carfare and expenses—say two hundred dollars altogether—and pay me about one hundred dollars a week while I’m at work, with a guarantee of at least two months’ work.”
Mr. Atkinson slapped his hand on Roy’s knee.
“Reasonable enough,” he exclaimed. “Too reasonable. I had in mind not less than five hundred dollars a month. How about it, George?” he added, with a laugh.
Mr. Osborne was wiping his perspiring face.
“You high financiers are too much for me,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “I see Roy wasn’t cut out to be a mechanic. I haven’t anything more to say.”
“But I have,” said Mr. Atkinson, quickly. “Mr. Cook, of the Utah company, offered our regular list price of five thousand dollars for one of the No. 1 machines. I discounted it one thousand dollars. He’s so dead set on getting some one to come out there that he’s offered that one thousand dollars as a bonus to whomever will come. That means Roy. And, from what I see of him, I know he won’t take it. That means you.”
Mr. Osborne, visibly affected, shook his head.