“Why, if he really thinks he can put us out of business, why should he come and offer us a part of the trade? Why not take it all?”
“I suppose he wanted to be fair,” answered Stick, doubtfully. Then he started and shot an anxious look at his companion. “Look here, Rus,” he exclaimed, “you’re—you’re not thinking of acting the fool!”
“Hope not. Depends on what you mean by acting the fool.”
“I mean you’re not going to try to buck him, are you?”
“I guess you could call it that,” answered Russell easily. “At least, I don’t propose to let Crocker or any one else come and tell me—”
“But you can’t do that!” wailed Stick. “I’m as much interested in that store as you are—almost, and—and I won’t have it! We can’t afford to make an enemy of that fellow, Rus. He’ll do just as he told you and we’ll be broke in a month. There’s no use in being stubborn. Of course, it isn’t pleasant to have him dictating to us, but he’s got the whip-hand, now hasn’t he?”
“He may have, but I doubt it.” Russell gave a final pat to his tie and glanced at the little clock on his chiffonier. “Come on and let’s eat, Stick. We can talk about this later.”
Stick, however, chose to talk about it all the way to Lawrence and would have talked about it during supper had Russell given him an opportunity. But Russell dived into general conversation and left his partner to silent and moody meditation. Stick was so thoroughly alarmed that he ate almost nothing; and Stick’s appetite was normally something to be proud of. Afterwards the subject was returned to and the two came nearer to a quarrel than they ever had before. Only the fact that Russell refused to get angry prevented it. Stick pleaded and begged, argued and, at length, commanded, but Russell was not to be moved.
“We agreed,” he said firmly, “that, as I had put more money into this than you had, I was to have the say in such matters as this. And I’ve thought it over carefully, Stick, and I mean to go right on as we’ve been going. Look here, now. Suppose we agreed to Crocker’s plan. We make an agreement with him not to sell goods below a certain price. He had all the trade before and he will have it all again. He says there is business enough for both of us. That listens well, but it isn’t true. Our only chance of making good lies in getting a whole lot of trade away from him if we can do it. And we’re doing it. And that’s what’s worrying him. He’s been selling things at a big profit, just as though the War hadn’t ever stopped, and there’s been no one to interfere with it. Now we come along and put a fair price on our goods and, of course, we’re getting customers away from him. Every day some one comes in and says, ‘Why, Crocker asks fifty cents more than that,’ or sixty cents, or whatever it may be. He realizes that he’s either got to scare us into an agreement on prices or lower his own prices; yes, and put better goods in stock, too! He hates to get less than he’s been getting, and so he tries to frighten us. Well, he can’t do it. We don’t frighten. As for driving us away, why, he will find that we’re hard to drive, Stick. He simply can’t do it.”
“That’s all well enough to say,” replied Stick desperately, “but how do you know he can’t? Suppose he lowers his prices below ours? Then what happens? Why, folks go to him, of course, and we sit and whistle. And then the rent comes due and a lot of bills come piling in and—bingo! good-by, Football!”