Benton's Venture

by Ralph Henry Barbour

“He’s probably thought of it long ago,” Mr. Benton laughed. “And I don’t say that he would start an opposition to you; I only say he might—and could without doing anything out of the way. Probably he wouldn’t. Someone else might, though. I guess if you really want to enlarge and want to risk it, now is the time, boys.”

“Then you think we’d better go ahead?” asked Tom.

“I hardly like to advise you, Tom. I don’t know much about automobiles or garages. If there’s really as much money to be made as Jimmy Brennan says there is, it sounds like a good thing. You’d better talk it over with your father, Will. See what he thinks.”

Tom went over to Willard’s after supper. Mr. Morris was at church when he arrived, but returned half an hour later, and the three sat out on the porch and discussed the matter thoroughly. Mr. Morris had had money and lost it and so had learned caution. But he favored the boys’ plan from the first.

“I’d say, take him up. I know Jimmy Brennan pretty well. He’s honest and he’s a hard worker and he’s smart. Of course there’s some risk. Maybe things won’t pan out quite as you think. But, after all, you’re not standing to lose very much. Just see that you don’t get too deeply in debt. Don’t borrow more than you can pay. If you decide to go into it have a lawyer draw up the partnership agreement and have everything set down in black and white, so there’ll be no misunderstanding about anything.”

Half an hour later Willard was for hurrying down to Jimmy’s boarding-house and telling him that they had decided to take him into partnership, but Tom demurred. “Let’s sleep on it first,” he said. “To-morrow will be time enough.”

It rained pitchforks the next morning, but it would have taken more than a rain to dampen their spirits as Tom and Willard ran down to the machine shop after they had disposed of passengers from the first train. Willard, who had his license at last, drove the car, which, even with the top up, was not the dryest place in the world. They found Jimmy at his bench, very smudgy about the face and very black as to hands, and acquainted him with their decision. Jimmy was plainly pleased, and insisted on shaking hands to seal the bargain. After which he led them to the sink and laughed at their efforts to wash off the grease and carbon. It was agreed that they should call for him at the shop in the afternoon and take him to see the car barn, which both boys declared was just the place for the garage.

And, when he saw it, Jimmy agreed with them. It was a small one-storied brick building built some ten years before to house the four cars which at that time comprised the rolling stock of the Audelsville Street Railway, later absorbed by the larger company which ran through from Providence to Graywich. The tracks outside had long since been removed. There were two big doors on the front and many windows on each side which admitted plenty of light. They could not get in at the doors, which were fastened, but as many of the window-panes had been broken it was an easy matter to reach in and throw back one of the catches. After that they scrambled through and dropped to the floor. The place smelt damp and musty, but Jimmy declared that after it had been opened up a while it would be all right. The floor, of two-inch planks, was in good condition, and the only problem confronting them was the boarding over of the pit which ran across the building and the removal of the four tracks. The pit held a truck on which the cars had been run and so moved from one track to another. The truck was as good as ever and slid easily away on its two rails when Jimmy gave it a shove with his foot, but they couldn’t see that it would be of any value to them. In one corner a small room was partitioned off which, as Willard pointed out, would serve admirably as an office. At the back of the building, against the brick wall, was piled an accumulation of old ties, while, nearby, a long bench, surmounted by many shelves, indicated that that corner of the barn had been sacred to the painter.

“It might be a bit bigger,” mused Jimmy. “Still you could get eight or ten cars in here by crowding. We could move that bench to this side by the windows and do our repairs there. What’s at the back of this?”

Willard, leaning out the window by which they had entered, reported that there was nothing at the back except a fifteen or twenty-foot space of weeds.