"Not at all blue or discouraged?" Cappy hazarded.

"Oh, I got off easy, Mr. Ricks. I have my head left--and my right arm. I
can think and I can write, and even if one of my wheels is flat, I can
hike longer and faster after an order than most. Got a job for me, Mr.
Ricks?"

"No, I haven't, Mr. Peck. I'm out of it, you know. Retired ten years
ago. This office is merely a headquarters for social frivolity--a place
to get my mail and mill over the gossip of the street. Our Mr. Skinner
is the chap you should see."

"I have seen Mr. Skinner, sir," the erstwhile warrior replied, "but he
wasn't very sympathetic. I think he jumped to the conclusion that I was
attempting to trade him my empty sleeve. He informed me that there
wasn't sufficient business to keep his present staff of salesmen busy,
so then I told him I'd take anything, from stenographer up. I'm the
champion one-handed typist of the United States Army. I can tally lumber
and bill it. I can keep books and answer the telephone."

"No encouragement, eh?"

"No, sir."

"Well, now, son," Cappy informed his cheerful visitor confidentially,
"you take my tip and see my son-in-law, Captain Peasley. He's high, low
and jack-in-the-game in the shipping end of our business."

"I have also interviewed Captain Peasley. He was very kind. He said he
felt that he owed me a job, but business is so bad he couldn't make a