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Wright stalked into Joe’s office one morning and slapped an open letter down on his desk. Evidently he was red hot.

“What do you think of that?” he demanded. The communication was brief and business-like:

BARKER & SMITH

Contractors—Builders

Oshkook, June 10th.

The Kent Lumber Co., Falls City.

Dear Sirs: Referring to our correspondence as to a quantity of lumber f.o.b. Falls City, we would say that we will not require same from you, having been quoted a more favourable rate. Regretting that in this instance we must place our order elsewhere, we are,

— Yours truly, Barker & Smith.

Joe whistled dismally. Barker & Smith were large contractors and retail dealers. The quantity of lumber referred to was large, and the contract had been all but closed; in fact, he was not sure that it had not been closed. After consultation with Wright he had quoted the firm a rock bottom cash price because he needed the money more than the lumber. Now he was thrown down hard.

“Well, some one underbid us,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Nobody could underbid us and get out even,” said Wright. “We figured our margin down to a hair-line. I’ll bet a hundred to one they can’t get it cheaper without stealing.”

“They say they can, and I suppose it goes,” said Joe wearily. “Hang it, I thought it was as good as closed!”

“Same here; and I’m not sure it isn’t,” said Wright. “They practically agreed to take the stuff from us.”

“Show the correspondence to Locke then, and see what he says,” Joe suggested.

But Locke, after he had waded through the papers, tossed them back to Wright. “No good,” he said. “What’s here doesn’t amount to a contract, though it comes mighty close to it.”

“It comes so close to it that we had cars run up the spur and started to load,” said Wright. “The understanding was—”

“It had no business to be,” Locke interrupted. “You’ve shown me all the papers in the matter, haven’t you? Very well, I tell you they don’t amount to an agreement. They’re simply a series of proposals, rejections, and requests for other proposals, though you came very nearly agreeing. While you’re dickering some one cuts in with a better rate and they call it off. You can’t hold them.”

“But nobody could underbid us; we quoted ’em rock bottom,” Wright persisted. That was the main point in his mind.

“Oh, pshaw, Wright, have some sense!” snapped Locke. “That may be an excuse, or it may not. It’s quite immaterial. Can’t you see that?”

“That’s all right from a lawyer’s standpoint, but not from ours,” said Wright. “Barker & Smith use a lot of lumber, and they’re not in business to lose money. I say nobody could underbid us. They lie when they say they got a better rate. What do they want to lie for? It’s money out of their pockets.”

“I’m a lawyer, not a mind reader,” Locke reminded him. “Your quotations were f.o.b. Falls City. It’s just possible the freight rate may have something to do with it.”

Wright returned to the office, pulled out his tariff books and compared the rate from Falls City to Oshkook with rates from other competitive points to the latter place.

“We’ve got ’em skinned there, too,” he soliloquized. “They can’t lay down any lumber cheaper than ours. It beats me.”

For an hour he pulled at a blackened brier and pondered the question. Then he went to Kent.

“This thing worries me,” he said. “I can’t see through it. I think I’ll take a run over to Oshkook and have a talk with Barker & Smith.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Joe, his pride up in arms. “We don’t want to go begging for their business. We quoted ’em a good rate. If they don’t want our stuff at that let ’em go to the devil.” He was sore and stiff-necked, as is the wont of youth when things go wrong.

But the older man persisted:

“I don’t care so much that we lost the contract; I want to find out, if I can, why we lost it. I know we weren’t underbid, and I want to know why they lied about it. It isn’t a case of soliciting business; it’s a case of finding out why we don’t get what’s coming to us, and that’s a mighty vital question to any concern. We’ve sold Barker & Smith before, and never had any friction. We can’t afford to ride the high horse just now. There’s something behind this, and it’s up to us to find out what.”

Kent recognized the force of the argument. “I was wrong. Go ahead and find out all you can.”

Wright took train for Oshkook and dropped into Barker & Smith’s office. Barker was out, and he saw Smith.

“I called about the lumber we quoted you a price on,” said Wright.

“Oh, that?” said Smith, who was plainly uneasy. “Yes. Let’s see! We didn’t come to terms, did we?”

“No, we didn’t.” said Wright. “We quoted you a price that left us practically no margin. I don’t see how any one could give a lower quotation. In fact, I wouldn’t have believed it possible if your letter hadn’t said so. I tell you whoever underbid us will lose money by it, or else you’ll get poor stuff.”

“We won’t accept poor stuff,” said Smith. “As to whether the other people lose money or not, that’s their affair. I presume they know their own business.”

“Would you mind telling me who they are?” Wright asked.

The question appeared to embarrass Smith.

“Why, upon my word, Wright, I don’t exactly know,” he replied. “We got a number of quotations, of course. Barker has been looking after it. Better see him.”

“You’d have the information in the office, wouldn’t you?” Wright pressed.

“I suppose so, I suppose so; but—here, you see Barker. He knows all about it. I don’t. Sorry to leave you, but I’ve got an appointment.” And he left Wright to wait for the senior partner.

When Barker came in, fully two hours later, his surprise at seeing Wright was so much overdone that the latter knew Smith had been talking to him.

“Well, now, look here,” said Barker when Wright had opened the matter, “I don’t want to talk about this. We got a dozen quotations and picked out the one that suited us. That’s all there is to it. I’m not going to tell you where we buy or what we buy for. That’s our business.”

“You said we were underbid, and that’s my business,” said Wright. “I tell you we weren’t.”

“That,” said Barker with first-class indignation, “amounts to a reflection on our veracity.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” retorted Wright. “Your letter was a darned poor lie, if you want my opinion of it. Now, hold your horses for a minute while I talk. No one quoted you a better rate then we did; I know that. And I know that transportation charges cut no figure, either. I’m not kicking, understand, but I do want to know why we didn’t land the contract. We’ve done business with you before and hope to do business with you again. Where do we fall down? Why are you throwing it into us? What do we have to figure on besides cost, next time you ask us for a quotation?”

“Better wait till I ask you,” said Barker.

“No, because this is a serious thing for us. I want to make it plain that we recognize your right to buy anywhere, and for any price you choose to pay. That’s all right. You needn’t have given any reason at all. But the reason you did give was not the true one, and we both know it. Now, man to man, Mr. Barker, tell me what we’re up against. Why didn’t we get the contract?”

“Well,” said Barker hesitatingly, “there is something in what you say. I don’t mind telling you this much: There are a holy lot of wires in our business, and we have to stand in with the people who pull them, see? Sometimes we have to buy where we’re told, no matter what the price is. We get square in other ways. That’s about what happened in this case, otherwise you would have got the order.”

Wright felt quite elated when he took his departure, for he had justified his contention that they had not been underbidden. Wright’s business was to cut logs into lumber and sell the lumber. William Kent had looked after the logging end of the concern. The limits, the camps, and the drives were his field. What logs he did not sell he handed over to Wright and thought no more about, knowing that they would be worked up into everything from rough boards to matched flooring. Wright, then, having ascertained the reason of the throw down, accepted it philosophically as arising from circumstances beyond his control. But young Kent, when he received his manager’s report, was not so philosophic.

“Pretty rotten state of affairs if people have to buy where they are told,” he fumed. “Nice free country we inhabit! I never took much stock in such yarns, but I’m beginning to see that there may be something in them.”

He took his troubles to Crooks, who listened, growled profane comment, but offered no advice. When Kent had gone he went to Locke’s office. Locke heard him with attention.

“What does the boy think about it?” he asked.

“So far,” Crooks replied, “he’s more indignant because Barker & Smith have to buy somewhere else than because he can’t sell to them. Same thing in one way, of course. But he’s looking at it from what he thinks is their standpoint. Says it’s an outrage that they have to buy where they’re told.”

“Now I wonder,” said Locke thoughtfully, “if we may go a step further? I wonder if they are told where not to buy?”

“By George!” exclaimed Crooks.

“It proves nothing,” said Locke. “It may not be especially directed at Kent.”

“I’ll bet it is,” said Crooks. “I’m losing good customers myself without reason. I can stand it, but Joe can’t. He needs good luck to pull him through as it is.”

“What in thunder do you suspect anyway?” asked Locke. “A combine?”

“Not a bit of it,” replied Crooks. “I’ve not been asked to join any ring to boost prices; but I have been asked to sell out. So has Kent. We won’t do it, and immediately our businesses suffer.”

“That is, you think somebody is forcing your hand?”

“That’s what I think. If Barker had told the truth he’d have said he’d been ordered not to buy from Kent.”

“Well, if any one is hammering you he’ll have to show his hand sooner or later,” said Locke. “Take your medicine till you can get hold of one definite illegal act susceptible of proof beyond all question. Then we’ll simply raise the roof.”