he would come even earlier, and if he saw a clerk at work before eight,
he might, under the inspiring spell of the brisk early-morning walk,
step over and give the fellow a five-dollar bill.

Well, Alibi had never gotten one of these five-dollar bills, because he
was usually in just before Saint Peter closed the gate. Several times he
had been reproved, and once Mr. Armour had said, "Tom, be late once more
and you are a has-wazzer." Shortly after this, one night, Alibi Tom had
a half-dozen stockmen to entertain. They had gone to Hooley's and Sam T.
Jack's, then to the Athletic Club and then they called on Hinky Dink and
"Bath-House John," the famous Cook County literary light. Where else
they had gone they could not remember.

It was about three o'clock in the morning, when it came over Tom like a
pall that if he started for home now and went to bed he would surely be
late again and it might cost him his job.

He proposed that they make a night of it. The stockmen were quite
willing. They headed for the Stockyards, stopping along the way to make
little visits on certain celebrities. At five o'clock they reached the
Armour plant, and Tom stowed his friends away with the help of a
friendly watchman. Then he made for the shower-bath, rubbed down, drank
two cups of coffee and went to his desk. It was just six-thirty, and
being Winter, was yet dark. He hadn't any more than yawned twice and
stretched himself, wondering if he could hold out until noon, when he
heard the quick step of "the old man." Tom crouched over his pretended
work like a devilfish devouring its prey. He never looked up, he was
that busy.

Mr. Armour stopped, stared, came closer--yes, it was Tom, the late Alibi
Tom, the chronic delinquent.

"Well, well, well, Tom, the Lord be praised! You have given yourself a
hunch at last--keep this!" And Armour handed out a brand-new, crisp,
five-dollar bill.

Tom had now set a stake for himself--and it was up to him to make good,
die or hike. He decided to make good. The next month his pay was raised
twenty-five dollars, and it has been climbing a little every year
since.

* * * * *

Philip D. Armour was a man of big mental and physical resources--big in
brain, rich in vital power, bold in initiative, yet cautious.

He had two peculiar characteristics--he refused to own more land than he
could use.

His second peculiarity was that his only stimulant was tea. If he had an
unus