s were Creamer,
Cuthbert and Stevens. Sam would have to subscribe for the entire five
hundred in order to make these men available to him.

McComas and Blackstone had only subscribed for the same amount as Sam.
They could do him no good, and he knew it was hopeless to attempt to
get two men to join with him. He looked over at Westlake. That
gentleman was smiling like a placid cherub, all innocence without, and
kindliness and good deeds; but there was nevertheless something fishy
about Westlake's eyes, and Sam, in memory, cast over a list of maimed
and wounded and crushed who had come in Westlake's business way. The
logical candidate was Stevens. Stevens simply had to take enough stock
to overbalance this thing, then he simply must vote his stock with
Sam's! That was all there was to it! Sam did not pause to worry about
how he was to gain over Stevens' consent, but he had an intuitive
feeling that this was his only chance.

"Stevens," said he briskly, "there are five hundred shares left. I'll
take half of it if you'll take the other half."

His brother Jack looked at him startled. Their total holdings, in that
case, would mean an investment of more money than they could spare from
their other operations. It would cramp them tremendously, but Jack
ventured no objections. He had seen Sam at the helm in decisive places
too often to interfere with him, either by word or look. As a matter
of fact such a proceeding was not safe anyhow.

"I don't mind--" began Westlake, slowly fixing a beaming eye upon Sam,
and crossing his hands ponderously upon his periphery; but before he
could announce his benevolent intention, Mr. Stevens, with what might
almost have been considered a malevolent glance toward Mr. Westlake,
spoke up.

"I'll accept your proposition," he said with a jerk of his beard as his
jaws snapped. So Miss Westlake thought a great deal of Sam, eh? And
old Westlake knew it, eh? And he had already subscribed enough stock
to throw Sam control, eh?

"Thanks," said Sam, and shot Mr. Stevens a look of gratitude as he
altered the subscription figures.

"Stop just a moment, Sam," put in Mr. Westlake. "How many shares of
common stock does that give you in combination with your bonus?"

"Two thousand two hundred and sixty," said Sam.

"Oh!" said Mr. Westlake musingly; "not enough for control by two
hundred and forty one shares; so you won't mind, since you haven't
enough for control anyhow, if I take up