"I have a good story," Cappy interrupted. "Let me tell it to you,
Skinner. Oh, dear! I believe this is about going to kill the boys up
on 'Change when I tell them." He wiped his eyes, controlled his mirth
and turned to the general manager. "Skinner," he said, "did you know
I had gotten back into the harness while you were up at the Astoria
mill? Well I did, Skinner. I had to, you know. If it was the last
act of my life I had to square accounts with that man Hudner, of the
Black Butte Lumber Company."

Mr. Skinner nodded. He was aware of the feud that existed between
Cappy and Hudner, and the reasons therefor. The latter had stolen
from Cappy a stenographer, who had grown to spinsterhood in his
employ--one of those rare stenographers who do half a man's thinking
for him. Cappy always paid a little more than the top of the market
for clever service; and whenever, a competitor stole one of his
favorite employees, sooner or later that competitor paid for his sins,
"through the nose."

"While you were away," Cappy went on, "I met Hudner a luncheon.
'Hudner,' I said, 'It's been my experience that nobody gets anything
good in this world without paying for it--and you stole the finest
stenographer I ever had. So I'm going to make you pay for her. See
if I don't.' Well, sir, Skinner, he laughed at me and told me to go
as far as I liked; and, a number of my youthful friends being present,
they each bet Hudner a five-dollar hat I'd hang his hide on my fence
within sixty days.

"We11, Skinner, you know me. Any time it's raining duck soup you'll
never catch me out with a fork; and, of course, when the boys showed