 | II Knowledge is Power |  |
2. II
THE "Pan-Continental Encyclopedic Dictionary" came by fast freight. Mr. Coppins bore the treasures to his room, and manufactured a number of reasonable excuses for being in possession of them when Mrs. Coppins should make the inevitable inquiries. He entered the item on his check-stub as "investment," for the benefit of his wife's splendid eyesight; and then he began to absorb knowledge, which is power.
Down in the rear of the barbershop the game of Kelly pool was proceeding with the usual abandon. Mr. Coppins was not present. The twelve ball got the money; the six ball captured the ten-cent stakes; the ivory cue-ball left the table and went into the corner of the room with its accustomed vigor; but Mr. Coppins was not there.
There was a light burning in Mr. Coppins's favorite corner of the house at night. There was a man absorbing the truths of the universe from limp-leather volumes. There was a man accumulating a fund of deathless information. There was a man trying to wring ninety-six dollars and fifty cents' worth of knowledge out of twenty-one volumes that sprang from the brains of one thousand of the world's greatest savants.
The man was Caleb Coppins. The volumes were the "Pan-Continental Encyclopedic Dictionary."
One bright morning Mr. Coppins emerged from his home with an eager look in his eye. He pounded down Main Street until he got as far as Calkins's Cash Grocery,
"Morning, Caleb," was the latter's salutation.
Mr. Coppins nodded and then took the other man by the coat-collar and spoke to him crisply.
"What is the temperature of the ocean at a depth of three thousand fathoms?" he asked.
Mr. Hemingway backed off to a safe distance.
"What difference does it make?" he parried.
"How much is a fathom?" continued Mr. Coppins, cocking his head on one side knowingly.
"I don't know."
Mr. Coppins gave a triumphal snort.
"You ought to know, Alec," he said. "A man in your position!"
Then he proceeded on his way. He had already picked out another victim. It was the principal of the high school, on his way to duty.
Before he received that box of books by fast freight Mr. Coppins had always regarded this man — Sterling Wendell — with awe. Now he stepped up to him with an air of affable ease and said:
"Mr. Wendell, do you happen to know what is the Algonquin Indian word for summer squash?"
"Why, I don't recall it just this minute," replied the schoolmaster, as if it had slipped from his mind during the last few seconds.
"Perhaps you can tell me what is the chemical symbol for ice-cream?" suggested Mr. Coppins.
"Really, Caleb, I'm a little late for school as it is. I'll be glad to talk over those matters with you some evening. By the way, do you know the chemical symbol for ice-cream?"
"I should say I do!" replied Mr. Coppins, hastening onward with a serene heart.
Then Mr. Coppins entered the butcher-shop,
"What can I do for you this morning?" asked the butcher, "Some mighty fine pork just came in."
"Wells," said Caleb sharply, "probably you can tell me the meaning of the word `endosperm'?"
"I'm afraid I can't this morning, Mr. Coppins," replied the butcher reluctantly. "Did you say you'd have a shoulder or a loin roast?"
"No, I didn't. At what temperature would water boil at an altitude of nineteen thousand feet above sea-level?"
Mr. Wells was silent.
"You don't know?" prodded the man of parts.
The butcher shook his head.
"You ought to know, in your business," was the commiserating retort.
"I s'pose you know," said the butcher.
"Pretty likely I do!" replied Caleb Coppins, in triumph.
Mr. Coppins visited the bank, and asked to be informed as to the date of the discovery of argon. He also requested information concerning the treatment of anthrax. The cashier threw up his hands and hid behind his card-index.
Mr. Coppins then assailed the clothing-store employees, clamoring for the specific gravity of dried prunes. The employees fell down wofully {sic} on this problem. Mr. Coppins smiled genially.
"I know!" he said.
Then he went home. He felt that things were coming his way. He knew that before supper he would be the talk of the village. He felt that there would be a movement on foot to deal with him. He was equally sure that he could be dealt with only at the expense of the dealer.
"The feller was right," ruminated Mr. Coppins. "I've got 'em all thinking. Knowledge is power!"
| II Knowledge is Power | |