presence. The moment he was fairly inside the door the visitor halted,
came easily and naturally to "attention" and bowed respectfully, while
the cool glance of his keen blue eyes held steadily the autocrat of the
Blue Star Navigation Company.

"Mr. Ricks, Peck is my name, sir--William E. Peck. Thank you, sir, for
acceding to my request for an interview."

"Ahem! Hum-m-m!" Cappy looked belligerent. "Sit down, Mr. Peck."

Mr. Peck sat down, but as he crossed to the chair beside Cappy's desk,
the old gentleman noticed that his visitor walked with a slight limp,
and that his left forearm had been amputated half way to the elbow. To
the observant Cappy, the American Legion button in Mr. Peck's lapel told
the story.

"Well, Mr. Peck," he queried gently, "what can I do for you?"

"I've called for my job," the veteran replied briefly.

"By the Holy Pink-toed Prophet!" Cappy ejaculated, "you say that like a
man who doesn't expect to be refused."

"Quite right, sir. I do not anticipate a refusal."

"Why?"

Mr. William E. Peck's engaging but somewhat plain features rippled into
the most compelling smile Cappy Ricks had ever seen. "I am a salesman,
Mr. Ricks," he replied. "I know that statement to be true because I have