r had surveyed Jock with the stony calm of the
out-of-town visitor who is prepared to show surprise at nothing in
New York.

"There's nothing like getting an early start," said Ben Griebler.
"Come on up to my room." Key in hand, he made for the elevator.
For an almost imperceptible moment Jock paused. Then, with a
little rush, he followed the short, thick-set figure. "I knew you
had it in you, McChesney. I said you looked like a comer, didn't
I?"

Jock said nothing. He was silent while Griebler unlocked his door,
turned on the light, fumbled at the windows and shades, picked up
the telephone receiver. "What'll you have?"

"Nothing." Jock had cleared the center table and was opening his
flat bundle of papers. He drew up two chairs. "Let's not waste any
time," he said. "I've had a twelve-hour wait for this." He seemed
to control the situation. Obediently Ben Griebler hung up the
receiver, came over, and took the chair very close to Jock.

[Illustration: "'Let's not waste any time,' he said"]

"There's nothing artistic about gum," began Jock McChesney; and
his manner was that of a man who is sure of himself. "It's a
shirt-sleeve product, and it ought to be handled from a
shirt-sleeve standpoint. Every gum concern in the country has
spent thousands on a 'better-than-candy' campaign before it
realized that gum is a candy and drug store article, and that no
man is going to push a five-cent package of gum at the sacrifice
of the sale of an eighty-cent box of candy. But the health note is
there, if only you strike it right. Now, here's my idea--"

At six o'clock Ben Griebler, his little shrewd eyes sparkling, his
voice more squeakily falsetto than ever, surveyed the youngster
before him with a certain awe.

"This--this thing will actually sell our stuff in Europe! No gum
concern has ever been able to make the stuff go outside of this
country. Why, inside of three years every 'Arry and 'Arriet in
England'll be chewing it on bank holidays. I don't know about
Germany, but--" He pushed back his chair and got up. "Well, I'm
solid on that. And what I say goes. Now I'll tell you what I'll
do, kid. I'll take you down to St. Louis with me, at a figure
that'll make your--"

Jock looked up.

"Or if you don't want the Berg, Shriner crowd to get wise, I'll
fix it this way. I'll go over there this morning and tell 'em I've
changed my mind, see? The campaign's theirs, see? Then I refuse
to consider any of their suggestions unt