"Nothing ever happens to me!" Larry Manahan grumbled under his breath,
sitting behind his desk at the advertising agency which employed his
services in return for the consideration of fifty a week. "All the adventure I
know is what I see in the movies, or read about in magazines. What
wouldn't I give for a slice of real life!"
Unconsciously, he tensed the muscles of his six feet of lean, hard body. His
crisp, flame-colored hair seemed to bristle; his blue eyes blazed. He
clenched a brown hammer of a fist.
Larry felt himself an energetic, red-blooded square peg, badly afflicted
with the urge for adventure, miserably wedged in a round hole.
It is one of the misfortunes of our civilization that a young man who, for
example, might have been an excellent pirate a couple of centuries ago,
must be kept chained to a desk. And that seemed to be Larry's fate.
"Things happen to other people," he muttered.
"Why couldn't an adventure come to me?"
He sat, staring wistfully at a picture of a majestic mountain landscape, soon
to be used in the advertising of a railway company whose publicity was
handled by his agency, when the jangle of the telephone roused him with a
start.
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