CHAPTER XIV
NED'S BUSINESS VENTURE
Meanwhile Ned Wilding was speeding on the fast train toward New York. The first part of the journey was no novelty to him, as he had been over that part of the line before. Soon, however, he noticed a change in the scenery and was kept busy watching the landscape as it seemed to fly past the windows.
"I wonder if I'll have time to attend to that little matter of business before I go to Uncle Kenfield's house," said Ned to himself as he leaned back in his seat and pulled a bundle of papers from his pocket. "Let's see what the address is."
Ned began to turn over the pages of a booklet which he selected from among his bundle of documents.
"Skem & Skim, 111 Broadway," he read. "I'll just drop down there before I go to uncle's house and buy my stock. Just think of me being a stockholder in the Mt. Olive Oil Well Corporation, Limited. Capital ten million dollars, surplus and undivided profits five millions. It must be a great concern."
Ned gave himself up to pleasant thoughts and looked out of the window. Perhaps he saw himself a millionaire riding in his private car. For Ned was going to do some business on his own account—the first he had ever done.
When he learned that he was to visit his aunt and uncle in New York he decided to put into operation a plan he had long had in mind; ever since, in fact, he got the thousand dollars damages which were paid to him and his chums by Mr. Ricka, as told in the first volume of this "Darewell Chums Series."
Mr. Wilding, after much solicitation on Ned's part, had allowed his son to take one hundred dollars of the money to invest in any way he saw fit, subject to certain restrictions.
"I'll not let you buy gold bricks with it, of course," Mr. Wilding had said, "and I advise you not to invest it in alleged counterfeit money or 'green goods.' But anything else in reason you may do. It's your first real business venture, and it will be good for you to learn by experience. I had to when I was a boy."
"How about buying oil stock?" Ned had asked. "I have been reading that up lately."
Mr. Wilding smiled behind the paper he was reading.
"I warned you against gold bricks," he said.
"Oh, but this is a legitimate oil business," Ned replied. "The company advertises in the best magazines, and is only selling stock low for a few days. By February first it is going to five dollars a share. It's only fifty cents now. Why, they have testimonials from prominent men, and an expert writes that the oil wells of the Mt. Olive concern are the richest ever seen. They have one well that runs a hundred barrels a day and they haven't it half bored yet."
"Ned," said Mr. Wilding, and he spoke a little gravely, "I'm not going to stand in your way. I've allowed you to take that hundred dollars to invest as you please. Now I'm not going to advise you. If I did I might as well invest the money myself. I want you to learn to be a business man and the best way to learn is by experience, though it isn't always the easiest way. If you want to buy stock in that oil company do so. If you get 'bitten' you do so with your eyes open."
"Don't you think it's a good investment, father?"
"I'm not going to say. Sometimes those concerns pay well, and again they do not. It's an operation such as business men enter into every day, and in this case, as far as you are concerned, it is legitmate, since you are going to buy the stock outright, and not speculate in it by buying on a margin. As I said, I will not advise you. Buy that stock if you want to, and I'll say nothing which ever way the cat jumps. It's your money and you will have to foot the bill. I wouldn't risk more than a hundred dollars though."
"That will give me two hundred shares at fifty cents each," Ned replied, figuring on the back of an envelope. "If it goes to five dollars a share I'll make nine hundred dollars profit. That would be fine!"
"So you've decided to buy it, eh?"
"I think so. I'll get it when I go to New York to Uncle Kenfield's house."
"Very well, Ned. You may do so. Only remember one thing, just repeat to yourself that old proverb about counting your chickens before they're hatched."
"Oh, well, I may not make nine hundred dollars, but I'm bound to clear some profit, The stock can't go much below fifty cents a share," Ned remarked hopefully.
"That's your lookout," his father replied. "Now that you've got it settled I'll draw a hundred dollars of your thousand and give it to you before you start for New York."
It was this transaction Ned had in mind as he was on his way to the great city. He read the account of the oil concern from circulars which had been mailed to him in Darewell a few weeks ago. There were big sheets of statistics, prospectuses glittering with gold printing, finely engraved sample stock certificates and a mass of figures that showed the impossibility of the Mt. Olive oil wells producing any less than the highest possible number of barrels per day.
"If this turns out all right I'll get the other boys to invest some of their money," Ned said to himself.
Ned reached New York safely about noon. He had his dinner in a restaurant near the station and then, leaving his trunk until he could have it sent to his uncle's house, and carrying only a small valise, he went to the office of the oil concern.
He had little difficulty in finding it, once a policeman had directed him to Broadway. He was hardly prepared for the beautifully furnished office into which he stepped. There was heavy carpet on the floor, the chandeliers, glowing with electric lights, seemed of solid gold. There were brass and mahogany railings, big rosewood desks, telephones on the desks, stock tickers clicking in one corner, and three girls clicking on typewriters in another corner. On every side were evidence of a big and rushing business.
"Well, sir, what can we do for you? Who are you from?" asked a clerk, from behind a brass grating, as Ned entered.
"I came to buy some stock," the boy replied.
"Who for? Speak quick! This is our busy day!"
"For myself," Ned replied.
"Come, no joking. I haven't any time to waste. Got an order from a broker? Hand it over with the check."
"I haven't any order and I haven't any check," Ned made reply, somewhat sharply, for the clerk's manner nettled him. "I came in here to buy some stock on my own account. I've got the cash here, but if you don't want—"
"What is it?" asked a large, pompous man, with a florid face and a white moustache, coming from an inner office.
"This boy says he wants to buy some stock." the clerk replied.
The florid man looked at Ned sharply.
"You mean this gentleman comes in here to invest in the Mt. Olive Oil Well Corporation," the florid man went on quickly. "Certainly, my dear sir," and he shot a meaning look at the clerk. "Skem & Skim will be happy to transact any business you may entrust them with. Step in here, please," and he held the door open for Ned to enter the inner office.
That was even more richly furnished than the outer one. Ned sat in an upholstered chair that seemed to smother him, so far down did it let him sink.
"Now, my dear sir, what can we do for you?" and the man looked at Ned.
"I have a hundred dollars to invest in your oil well."
The man seemed a little disappointed.
"Hum, yes, of course. Well, at the present market rate that will give you two hundred shares. You are in luck, my dear sir. We are going to put the price at a dollar a share in the morning. In fact we were going to advance it this afternoon. I will have your certificate made out at once." He took the money, which Ned held out, and touched a button on his desk. A young man entered. "Make out a certificate for two hundred shares for this gentleman, er—let's see—I'm afraid I didn't catch your name when you mentioned it."
As Ned had not mentioned it the gentleman's inability to catch it might easily be forgiven.
Ned supplied the necessary information, and the clerk withdrew. Another entered a moment later. He seemed much excited:
"Just had a wire from Colonel Janders," he said. "The Black Cat well has increased fifty barrels a day, Mr. Skem!"
"Good!" exclaimed the florid gentleman. "Tell Mr. Skim at once, and put the stock up to a dollar a share. You got in just in time," he added, turning to Ned, and our hero thought so himself.
As the last clerk withdrew another one came in.
"Got an order from Mr. Johnson for five thousand shares," he announced. "Shall I let him have 'em at fifty?"
"Sorry to disoblige Mr. Johnson, who is a very good friend of mine," said Mr. Skem, "but I shall have to charge him a dollar. I guess he'll pay it. The stock will go to two dollars a share before the end of the week."
The first clerk came back with a finely engraved certificate, on which the name "Edward Wilding" was written in a flourishing hand.
"There you are," said Mr. Skem. "I hope you will take some more stock soon. If you invest before the end of the week I will, as a special favor to you, make the price seventy-five cents."
Ned had half a mind to invest another hundred dollars, but he thought he had better write to his father first. Then, with the precious certificate in his pocket, he started for his uncle's house, planning to stop on the way and order his trunk sent up.