And yet I stuck
it out six months after I'd any earthly business to--just for a few
extra hundreds."
"Where were you? What were you doing?" asked Harber.
"Trading-post up a river in the Straits Settlements," said Barton.
"A crazy business from the beginning--and yet I made money. Made it
lots faster than I could have back home. Back there you're hedged
about with too many rules. And competition's too keen. You go into
some big corporation office at seventy-five a month, maybe, and
unless you have luck you're years getting near anything worth having.
And you've got to play politics, bootlick your boss--all that. So I
got out.
"Went to California first, and got a place in an exporting firm in
San Francisco. They sent me to Sydney and then to Fiji. After I'd
been out for a while and got the hang of things, I cut loose from
them.
"Then I got this last chance, and it looked mighty good--and I
expect I've done for myself by it. Five years or a little better.
That's how long I've lasted. Back home I'd have been good for
thirty-five. A short life and a merry one, they say. Merry. Good God!"
He shook his head ironically.
"The root of all evil," he resumed after a little. "Well, but you've
got to have it--can't get along without it in _this_ world.
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