Johnston McCulley

“ Because he liked to read, and because he wished to associate with people who really were doing things—the creators—John Branton, during his college career, had decided to become an author. He had applied himself faithfully to the study of English and the classics, and after having been graduated he had demonstrated to his satisfaction the fact that a man may not create himself merely because he appreciates and understands the creations of others. ”

“ John Branton hurried across the room and opened it. Before him stood a peculiar individual, a man some six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an enormous head, with long thick hair that was unkempt, with small glittering black eyes that looked evil—a grotesque figure of a man. ”

“ Branton could not even guess at the direction after half a dozen turnings. A man sat on either side of him in menacing silence, and the muzzle of the revolver was still jammed against his ribs. He tried once to speak, tried to ask for an explanation, but they ordered him to remain silent, threatening dire things if he did not hold his tongue.
Branton never had been a courageous man and he felt genuine fear now. He could not understand this. What did the story have to do with it? These men were not officers of the law arresting him for stealing Marmaduke Loughtry’s story. ”

“ Branton could send it to some magazine that Loughtry did not honor with his work. Loughtry never would see the story, perhaps, if it was printed. For Loughtry did not read the work of others, nor did he watch the market. ”

“ He explained how he had tipped off things by means of stories.
“We didn’t know anything about you, and neither did Loughtry know you had stolen his story. We came down here to land the rest of the gang, and overheard their little conversation with you. Feel like standing up now? Can you walk? Better get home then.”
Every year, new writers—honest, hardworking men—are achieving success. Names never seen in print before become well known.
But among them is never found the name of John Branton.
Branton is a clerk in a mercantile establishment. ”

“ He did not know that the editor had bit his lip when he purchased it, and had put it aside—probably never to be published. The editor was experienced, and knew that new writers generally make a fizzle of their second story, but may “come back” strong with the third; and the editor, believing that he had discovered John Branton, naturally wanted his magazine to profit by the discovery.
So Branton continued to work at his clerk’s desk by day, and wrote during the evenings, and wondered what had become of Loughtry, who had been gone for four days now. ”

“ Regularly his compositions were returned to him by magazine editors who appreciated his command of English, but who knew that their readers never would get beyond the first paragraph. The ambition of John Branton was low at times, and then it would flare forth again when he read of some other man’s success. Ungratified ambition may prove to be a treacherous thing. It was so in the case of Branton ”

“ But no man ever will say that this gang didn’t give a fellow every chance in the world. I’ll tell you what you’ve done, and I don’t want a word out of you until I have finished. Then you can say your piece—and little good it will do you.
“The boss has been caught with the goods, and he goes up the river for a ten stretch; you did that. Another good man goes with him, you did that. The gang has been scattered, and we’re all in danger ”

“ And now let me drop a little hint in your dainty ear—we’re going away from here, down where we can talk things over, and the first break you make, at the first sound out of you, you’re going to get a portion of red-hot lead through an important part of your system. ”