And Fred wanted to point this out: men were good and kind and fine deep inside, even when they were forced to use animals. In whatever circumstances men found themselves they longed for the beautiful.
Silence had again descended over Fred’s Tavern; only a soft snoring was heard. The customers were going to sleep again; one after another lost his voice and passed out. Occasionally a belching, a snore, or a clearing of the throat was heard, but spoken words had given out.
And the host explained to Robert all the advantages for his guests: Grand Hotel of Grand City offered all the things in the world a man could ask for. And in the house across the street a gentleman could satisfy his further desires.
It had grown stuffy and close in the bar and Robert felt sleepy. He rose and said he would go to bed.
Fred nodded. “Good night! Sleep tight! I must attend to my business. .”
He looked in annoyance at his customers and bent down for his spray can again to get life into his business.
— 4—
Robert stayed on with his compatriot at the Grand Hotel in Grand City. During the day he would wander about and look at the place. There were remains of many houses that once had stood along the street: foundation stones, heavy timbers, caved-in chimneys, an occasional iron stove — the heavy objects the tornado had been unable to carry out on the prairie when it had struck last year. Robert thought that if the big storm had hit the town on the night the Seventh-Day Adventists waited in their church for the Last Day, they might have thought they were being taken bodily to heaven on the hurricane.
Here were places where people had lived; the people themselves were dead or had moved away. Even the rats were dead — furry, flat, dried-up rat carcasses lay strewn on the old sites like lost mittens. This was a ghostly place; people and animals had lost their lives here — their ghosts might return at night. Who knew? The town in the sand pit was a ghost town. It suited Robert to live here.
But after dark he hardly dared move about in Grand City; it was too easy to fall into holes. And the gravel walls hung over the city as a constant threat, as if they could bury the town at any moment.
The ghost town had only one-tenth of its original population but there were still a few hundred inhabitants who might ask each morning: Will our town cave in and bury us all before evening?
The guests at the Grand Hotel were travelers who passed through Grand City and needed a place to rest for a night. But for days on end Robert was the only guest in the house. The saloon gave the owner his income. After a few weeks, Robert offered to pay for his lodging. He made the suggestion one day when only the two of them were eating in the main dining room. But Fredrik Mattsson threw up his hands: there was no hurry about that. Moreover, he wanted to treat an old friend from Sweden to lodging for some time. Countrymen must stick together. Robert insisted he wanted to pay for himself — he had plenty of money.
Fredrik Mattsson’s swollen, bloodshot eyes fluttered about a moment, he turned away as if suddenly embarrassed, he didn’t want to snoop into other people’s affairs, but would Robert feel hurt if he asked how much the Mexican had left him?
“Not at all, Fred. You are my friend — I’ll show you!”
He went to his room and fetched the small pouch of soft black leather with the letters M. V. embroidered on it. He had so far used only a little of the contents. He really ought to count the rest of it. He poured the gold and silver coins onto the table. His host eagerly helped him count the money. He divided the coins into piles according to their value; he knew American money, he conducted big business.
Robert still had almost three thousand dollars, two thousand of which was in gold.
Fred threw his hands up as if wanting to call on the high one in heaven.
“My dear boy! Have you entirely lost your mind! How are you using your money? Do you just hide it away?”
Robert said he used the money as he needed it. What was wrong about that?
“My poor fellow Swede! It’s criminal, that’s all! You can double your money, many times! Have you never met a sensible person in America before? Has no one advised you about money?”
And Fredrik Mattsson’s voice sounded truly sad when he heard how foolishly Robert had handled his fortune: to leave all that cash in a pouch! That was called dead money! And a businessman like himself could only feel sad when he saw how dead this money was. Money must be put into something to earn interest. Money must be kept alive, multiplied — a hundredfold, a thousandfold, like seeds in the ground. If he had put his money into a business when he got it he would have had ten times as much by now. He would have had thirty thousand instead of a mere three thousand. It was indeed a crime to handle money this way. It was not only a crime against himself, it was a crime against humanity! To keep all this money uninvested! For humanity, in order to survive, must keep business going.
“Bob,” said Fred, and patted Robert’s hand in deep compassion: “Bob, you do indeed need a good friend.”
And in his solitude, after Arvid’s death, Robert had often felt he did indeed need a friend.
Fred’s eyes could not leave the piles of gold and silver coins before him on the table. At last his face lit up.
“I got it! I know what to do, Bob! You and I should be partners!”
Robert looked puzzled; he didn’t understand. But Fred was jumping up and down in joy over his bright idea.
“Damn me! Why didn’t I think of it at once!”
“What do you mean? What should we do?”
“You put your capital into my hotel! You’ll multiply your money! You can retire as a rich man! You and I will be partners! In my hotel!”
“Would this money be enough for that. .?”
“It will help in the business, and I’ll pay good interest! You can’t handle your money yourself, Bob!”
Robert knew he couldn’t handle money, he had never had any to handle. This was the first money he had ever had. And he felt the coins could easily be stolen from the pouch; he had been thinking about finding a safer place.
Fred continued. He had in mind expanding his hotel business and could use some more capital — first of all they must find a staff of servants. Suppose Robert put some money in the hotel, say two thousand dollars — the rest he could keep for spending money — then he, Fred, would pay the highest interest ever paid in the New World, half the profits! They would share as brothers what they took in. The Grand Hotel was already a fine business — but would be still better with more capital to modernize it. And since they were from the same homeland he felt they were practically relatives. With the two of them partners they would have a family business, as it were.
Robert had never thought of his money working for other people and at the same time increasing for him. But as his friend had such a great understanding of business, he could see no harm in following his advice.
He said, “You take care of my money. If it isn’t too much trouble for you?”
He was grateful for Fred’s suggestion; his only worry was that the handling of the money would be too much of a nuisance to his friend.
“Hosannah!” exclaimed the host of the Grand Hotel. “From now on we’ll do big business! Boy! Will you be rich one day!”