At twelve-thirty, as Cappy was hurrying up California Street to luncheon
at the Commercial Club, he met Bill Peck limping down the sidewalk. The
ex-soldier stopped him and handed him a card.
"What do you think of that, sir?" he queried. "Isn't it a neat business
card?"
Cappy read:
+---------------------------------------------------+
| RICKS LUMBER & LOGGING COMPANY |
| Lumber and its products |
| 248 California St. |
| San Francisco. |
| |
| Represented by |
| William E. Peck |
| If you can drive nails in it--we have it! |
+---------------------------------------------------+
Cappy Ricks ran a speculative thumb over Comrade Peck's business card.
It was engraved. And copper plates or steel dies are not made in half an
hour!
"By the Twelve Ragged Apostles!" This was Cappy's most terrible oath and
he never employed it unless rocked to his very foundations. "Bill, as
one bandit to another--come clean. When did you first make up your mind
to go to work for us?"
"A week ago," Comrade Peck replied blandly.
"And what was your grade when Kaiser Bill went A.W.O.L.?"
"I was a buck."
"I don't believe you. Didn't anybody ever offer you something better?"
"Frequently. However, if I had accepted I would have had to resign the
nicest job I ever had. There wasn't much money in it, but it was filled
with excitement and interesting experiments. I used to disguise myself
as a Christmas tree or a box car and pick off German sharp-shooters. I
was known as Peck's Bad Boy. I was often tempted to quit, but whenever
I'd reflect on the number of American lives I was saving daily, a
commission was just a scrap of paper to me."
"If you'd ever started in any other branch of the service you'd have run
John J. Pershing down to lance corporal. Bill, listen! Have you ever had
any experience selling skunk spruce?"
Comrade Peck was plainly puzzled. He shook his head. "What sort of stock
is it?" he asked.
"Humboldt County, California, spruce, and it's coarse and stringy and
wet and heavy and smells just like a skunk directly after using. I'm
afraid Skinner's going to start you at the bottom--and skunk spruce is
it.
"Can you drive nails in it, Mr. Ricks?"
"Oh, yes."
"Does anybody ever buy skunk spruce, sir?"
"Oh, occasionally one of our bright young men digs up a half-wit who's
willing to try anything once. Otherwise, of course, we would not
continue to manufacture it. Fortunately, Bill, we have very little of
it, but whenever our woods boss runs across a good tree he hasn't the
heart to leave it standing, and as a result, we always have enough skunk
spruce on hand to keep our salesmen humble."
"I can sell anything--at a price," Comrade Peck replied unconcernedly,
and continued on his way back to the office.
* * * * *