Chapter XXXI · RISING FORTUNES.

A day after the arrival of the Camera Chap in New York, a middle-aged man of exceedingly prosperous appearance entered the Bulletin office, and handed a card to Fred Carroll, on which was printed:

“Mr. Oliver Cheston, the National Advertising Agency, New York, Chicago, San Francisco.”

Carroll wondered that a man of Mr. Cheston’s evident standing in the business world should have such a cheap-looking card, for the pasteboard was printed instead of being engraved, and it looked as if the job had been hastily done, some of the letters being blurred.

Nevertheless, the proprietor of the Bulletin received his visitor with great politeness. He was enough of a philosopher to realize that a man is not always to be judged by the quality of his stationery.

Mr. Oliver Cheston’s first words took Carroll’s breath away.

“I have come to see you about placing some advertising in your newspaper,” he announced quietly; “about five thousand dollars’ worth.”

“Five thousand dollars’ worth!” the proprietor of the Bulletin gasped. “Is this a joke?”

The representative of the National Advertising Agency frowned. “Why should you doubt my seriousness, sir?” he demanded, with great dignity. “My firm is one of the largest agencies in the world. Surely you must have heard of us? We represent most of the big advertisers in the United States, and our specialty is placing ads in small-town newspapers such as yours.”

He drew from his pocket several sheets of paper pinned together. “Here is the copy of the ads which I wish to insert in the Bulletin. They are to appear regularly in each issue until further notice. Each ad is to occupy half a page. If you will have the contracts drawn up, I will sign them now.”

Carroll glanced at the pages which his visitor had thrust into his hand. Each sheet was a typewritten draft of an advertisement of some product of world-wide reputation. One was a brand of bottled beer, which, so its manufacturers boasted, had made a certain town famous; another was a breakfast food, the name of which, by dint of persistent advertising, had become a household word throughout the world; a third was a tooth powder which millions of people were using.

Still Carroll was incredulous. This stroke of fortune seemed much too good to be true. He was strongly inclined to ask Mr. Cheston why he had selected the Bulletin as a medium for this advertising, but he realized that such a question would be exceedingly undiplomatic, so he refrained from putting it.

“Very well, sir,” he said. “How about payment? It is——”

Before he could go any further, the representative of the National Advertising Agency broke in:

“Payment will be in advance, Mr. Carroll. I shall hand you our check now for five thousand dollars. That will carry us for quite a few issues at your usual rates, I think. By the time that money is used up, we shall be able to judge by the results whether it will be to our advantage to continue to run the ads in the Bulletin.”

Carroll was even more strongly inclined to suspect now that the proposition was a hoax. This liberal way of doing business, to his mind, looked decidedly fishy.

However, he proceeded to draw up the contracts, and when Mr. Cheston had departed, leaving a check for five thousand dollars behind him, he took the check over to his bank, although he felt so sure that it was worthless that he was almost ashamed to deposit it.

Great was his amazement and joy when he called at the bank the next day, and was told by the cashier that the check had put through the clearing house, and was perfectly good.

It was not long before Carroll’s enemies in the Chronicle office and at the city hall heard about this windfall which had come to the Bulletin.

The Gales could not understand it at all. They thought it very queer that Mr. Oliver Cheston had not come to them with a view to placing his business in their newspaper. Surely as an advertising expert, he must have known that the Chronicle’s circulation was far in advance of that of the Bulletin.

It worried them, and it worried Mayor Henkle, too, to see Carroll get that five thousand dollars. They had figured on his lack of finances as the strongest factor in the downfall of the Bulletin. Now that he had so unexpectedly come into funds, they realized that his newspaper would have a new lease of life, which, from their standpoint, was very annoying.

What worried the Gales and the Honorable Martin Henkle even more was the manner in which Carroll’s announcement that he would be a candidate for mayor at the next election had been received by the people of Oldham.

Carroll had published that announcement in large type on the front page of the Bulletin. In a ringing editorial, double-leaded, and three columns wide, he explained his reasons for taking this step, and urged the taxpayers of Oldham to rally to his standard, and help in the good work of turning the rascals out of office.

On the front page of that issue, and each succeeding issue, was printed a coupon, which the reader was requested to fill out and bring or mail to the Bulletin office. By signing this coupon, the reader enrolled himself as a member of the new “People’s Party.”

The response to this appeal was very gratifying—to Carroll and his friends. The coupons, properly filled out, came pouring into the Bulletin office. Committees of taxpayers called in person to congratulate Carroll upon his decision to run for mayor, and to pledge their enthusiastic support.

Day by day the Bulletin’s circulation grew larger and larger. Carroll’s editorials on the subject of his candidacy were the most brilliant his pen had ever turned out. Lots of people bought the Bulletin just to read his roasts of the Honorable Martin Henkle and his gang. Many others bought the paper because of the spirited snapshots which appeared each day upon its front page. For the Camera Chap had come back to Oldham, as he had promised to do, and was once more busy with his kodak and in dodging Chief of Police Hodgins and his minions.

It was this fact which worried Mayor Henkle and the Gales most of all, for they soon learned that Hawley had returned, and was responsible for the daring half tones which the Bulletin was publishing, and which were causing so much amusement in Oldham.

Then one day, about a week after the Camera Chap’s return from New York, old Delancey Gale and his son received another great shock. An Associated Press dispatch from New York came to the Chronicle office, announcing the death of Mr. Samuel Leggett, a prominent merchant and philanthropist.

“I guess it’s all up now, governor,” said the younger Gale morsely to his father. “Melba will come into that fifty thousand dollars, and she’ll marry Carroll right away—confound him! With all that money to spend, he’s sure to beat you at the polls at the coming election.”

Old Delancey Gale nodded gloomily. “Yes, my son, it certainly looks bad,” he admitted. “It seems to me that the situation calls for desperate measure. I have set my heart on being the mayor of this town, and I am not going to let that young ruffian beat me if there is any way of preventing it.”

For a full hour, father and son sat in the former’s private office, putting their heads together in search of some plan which would bring about the undoing of Carroll.

Suddenly the younger Gale had an inspiration. He explained the scheme to his parent, who gave it his enthusiastic approval. They determined to put it into operation immediately.

TO BE CONTINUED.