“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.

* * * * *

IV

For two months Cappy Ricks saw nothing of Bill Peck.  That enterprising veteran had been sent out into the Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas territory the moment he had familiarized himself with the numerous details regarding freight rates, weights and the mills he represented, all things which a salesman should be familiar with before he starts out on the road.  From Salt Lake City he wired an order for two carloads of larch rustic and in Ogden he managed to inveigle a retail yard with which Mr. Skinner had been trying to do business for years, into sampling a carload of skunk spruce boards, random lengths and grades, at a dollar above the price given him by Skinner.  In Arizona he worked up some new business in mining