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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Forty thousand dollars would be my top figure if I were the Australian bidder," Cappy declared, and added to himself: "But, as Alden P. Ricks, seventy-five might not stagger me in view of the present freight rates." "Just what I figured," Redell answered. "She'll cost us two hundred thousand dollars before we get her in commission again.
After that, you and Skinner and Gus Redell and Live Wire Luiz can collect the dividends." "Oh, Mr. Ricks! This is too much," Skinner began. "Tut, tut, sir! Not a peep out of you, sir! How dare you argue with me? Now just one word more before you fellers go: The next time you boys go bidding on a ship at auction, take a leaf out of Cappy Ricks' book and bid against yourself!
Ford & Carter said they would think the matter over; so Mr. Redell tactfully withdrew, stating that he would call up the following day for an answer. He knew Ford & Carter would promptly dispatch a long cablegram to their agent in Australia, instructing him to get a forty-eight-hour option on the wheat, with a guaranty of delivery to the vessels as they arrived from time to time.
And lastly, he planned to claim it the solemn duty of the aged to instruct the young and ignorant in the hard school of experience. Judge, therefore, of his disappointment when, on entering the lobby of the Merchants' Exchange Building, on the two top floors of which the Commercial Club is situated, he encountered Redell and Live Wire Luiz leaving the elevator.
Quite early in their friendship, the astute Redell discovered a rift in Cappy's armor two rifts, in fact. The first was that Cappy feared and loathed old age and fiercely resented even the most shadowy intimation that with age he was, to employ a sporting phrase, "losing his punch."
"Still, it occurred to me that I saw an opening where two high-minded philanthropists to wit, Alden P. Ricks and J. Augustus Redell might strike a blow for freedom and at the same time give these wheat speculators a kick where it will do them the most good.
"By Neptune," he declared, "I'd give a cooky to know the name of the crazy man who paid two million dollars for that steamer!" "Behold the lunatic, Matt! Grandpa Ricks, in his second childhood! Gus Redell was bidding for me, sonny." Matt Peasley sat down rather limply and stared at the president emeritus. "Cappy," he said presently, "you sent a boy to do a man's work.
Expect bank will leak and tell 'em you only arrived with twenty-five thousand you know, Mike! Can't be too careful. Trust nobody and remember this man Redell is the smartest young man in the world and the trickiest scoundrel under heaven. Don't hold him cheap. He's a holy terror! He'd pinch the gold out of your wisdom teeth while you'd be laughing at him."
You're an infernal scoundrel; and experience has taught me that any time I take your tip and go in on a deal I have to step lively to keep from being walked on." "But this time I'm free from guile. I won't stab you, Cappy." "No use! The last boat just left, Augustus." Mr. Redell, however, was made of rather stern stuff. He was a young man who never took "No" for an answer.
Now, Cappy was fully convinced, from optical evidence, that J. Augustus Redell was a gambler. He admired Redell's genius for business, the soundness of his decisions, the alertness of his mind and the brilliance of his financial coups, but he deprecated the younger man's daring. Cappy called it recklessness.
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