"You are personally welcome to go. You may speak to Coronel Saturnino. He will arrange your billet."
"Good! Good!" Strawbridge was gratified. Then he dropped automatically into the follow-up methods taught him by the sales manager of the Orion Arms Corporation.
"And now, General," he continued intimately, "about how many rifles do we want shipped here?" As he asked this question he used his left hand to draw a leather-covered book from his hip pocket, while with his right he plucked a fountain-pen from his vest pocket. With a practised flirt he flung open his order-book at a rubber-band marker. Thus mobilized, he looked with bright expectation at his prospect.
The general seemed a little at loss.
"Do you mean how many rifles I want?"
Strawbridge nodded, and repeated in an intimate, confident tone, "Yes; how many do we want?" The pronoun followed up the impression of how thoroughly he had identified himself with the interest of his customer.
Fombombo hesitated a moment, then asked aloud:
"Coronel Saturnino, how many rifles do we want?"
The young colonel did not pause in his work.
"Twenty-five thousand, General." His brain seemed to be a card-index.