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Show FICTION CORNER 1 I STRICTLY BUSINESS 1 1 P'V ROBERT C. BLACK MON 1 place and the materials tj do the job, and I was to be the judge cf whether the copies produced aere acceptable or r.rjt. If we hac1 '.oo much argu.T.ent we could euch choose a friend and t::cy would choose a third party to settle the argument. There wasn't anything left for me to do but go through with it. I was going to each Phillip Phil-lip Crasor a lessen, anyway." T.Iy forgotten cigarette burned my fingers and I tossed it from the car. "I turned over a small cottage ! down on the lake to Phillip Crasor, t stocked it with a Bible, paper, pens, ink and blotter- and told him to go to work. I left a man there to see that he didn't get outside help. It was strictly business with me. I had $30,000 at stake." "riiillip Crasor was going to produce 10 perfectly legible handwritten hand-written copies of the Bible, as the contract provided, or he would lose the bet." "I didn't get back for a week or two, and Phillip had spoiled a lot I of paper but produced nothing acceptable. ac-ceptable. He wanted to fight, but I told him to read the contract and THE finest sermon I ever heard ended and the benediction came straight from the heart of the broad-shouldered figure in the pulpit. pul-pit. The stirring voice of the big organ filled the church and the congregation con-gregation began to leave. Harry Thatcher and I were surrounded sur-rounded by sober, thoughtful people as we went to the car. He drove out toward the lake. "Don," Thatcher said abruptly after aft-er he got a cigar started. We were entering the lake drive. "There are three million, five hundred and sixty-thousand, four hundred and eighty letters in the Bible." "I suppose so." I almost dropped my cigarette. His talking about the Book took me by surprise. His interest in-terest was financial news, exclusively. exclusive-ly. "There are seven hundred and If a man can't look at it like that, he has no business betting." He tooled the big car around a curve. Sunlight was on the lake, a moving pattern of glinting water under a cloud splashed sky. "The club was in an uproar, with men betting each other we'd both back out, or go on with it. I went over to the big bookcase at the other end of the room to think it out. "I saw the Ki:le In the bookcase book-case and remembered my mother telling me that the Hook was good to read when you didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do. "I took the Bible and saw in the back where it had so many letters and words and all that, and it gave me an idea. When I was in school I couldn't spell. "The teacher used to make me write missed words on the black- evcnty-thrce thousand, seven hundred and forty-six words In Its thirty-one thousand, one hundred and seventy-three verses." "Sure." I looked at him, wondering. wonder-ing. His gray eyes were half closed, his broad face grave. One could see why he was called "Bull-dog" Thatcher. He had a reputation of going after business, wherever It was, and getting it. "Shortly after the war ended, a young man named Phillip Crasor came Into my club one evening." Thatcher settled himself more comfortably com-fortably In the broad front seat of the car, one big hand on the wheel rim. "He had been a pilot. I don't know how many missions, but enough. Star end at the university before that. All around athlete. He had been mentioned as a possible rzl".' I.I V ' TT- jmhs-zsSiS ; ir i k Jte--2 'L 1 : ii-iML.yy V ' '-s My man cabled me that Phillip Crasor had locked himself in the cottage and wouldn't let anyone in. it was time for him to put up or shut up. I thought he would burst. ' The club was betting he'd last about another week. I did not think he'd go that long." Thatcher looked out over the lake, then his . eyes came back to tha drive before us. "Business suddenly took me ta France and Italy and I stayed there for months." He coughed again, apologetically. "All wars are not won on the battlefield, and all soldiers sol-diers do not wear uniforms, yod know. Anyway, I was gone over nine months. My man cabled me that Phillip Crasor had locked himself him-self in the cottage and wouldn't lei anyone in. The year was almost up when I got back home. It had about 20 days to run. I hurried down ta the cottage." Thatcher flicked ashes from the cigar. "My man said Phillip Crasor had been gone for a week. The 10 handwritten copies of the Bible were on a table in the cottage, all per-fectly per-fectly legible. On top of one pile was a letter to me from Phillip Crasor. I have that letter home now, in my Bible. He said he wouldn't take the $50,000 and the bet was off. I paid, though, to the church we attended this morning. When a man loses, he should pay. It's strictly business. If I'd won " "But what about Phillip Crasor?" I held another forgotten cigarette in my hand. "Oh. He preached that sermon you heard this morning." Olympic chance. Folks had a little lit-tle money." The car rolled with almost no noise. I said nothing. This wasn't the Harry Thatcher I'd known. I'd dropped in on him last night since I was in town for a few days, and he'd insisted upon my going to church with him this morning. Thatcher was not a church man, so far as I knew. I waited. "Phillip had got some cockeyed ideas in the army," Thatcher went on. "Some radical talk. He started griping about youngsters in the army getting killed while the big-income businessmen stayed home safe. My Income runs up a little." He couldn't conceal a note of pride. "He looked at me when he said it and I thought he was making it personal. I told him big-income men were worth what they got and he said they were a lot of stuffed fools. I got sore. I told him he couldn't handle a $50,000 job for a month, .much less a year." Thatcher coughed a little, apologetically. apol-ogetically. "I was a captain in the first world war. Infantry. Shrapnel." His hand moved to his right side. "They wouldn't take me the last time." He straightened. Breeze from the lake swept our smoke from the car. "Phillip Crasor said he had $5,000 that said he could handle any $50,-000 $50,-000 job for 12 months. Inherited the money from an aunt, I believe. Anyway, he said for me to put up or shut up. The fellows in the club laughed, and I well, I lost my temper. tem-per. I called him at ten to one, betting 50,000 against his five that he couldn't handle the job. I was to name the job. It wasn't to be Impossible, or require technical skill neither of us had. It was foolish, but neither of us would back down. It was a bet and I couldn't call it off. Betting is strictly business with me. If I win I collect, and if I lose I pay off. Strictly business. board a couple of hundred times. I wrote about 20 words a minute, writing carefully. I figured I could write perhaps 30 words a minute, fast. That meant about 15,000 words in a full day of writing. At that rate, it would take 50 days to complete com-plete a handwritten copy of the Bible. Ten good, clear, handwritten handwrit-ten copies would therefore take about 500 days, and the bet was for a year." Thatcher laughed softly, remembering. remem-bering. "I realized that this was an ideal job for the purpose. It required no technical skill neither of us had, and there was a good chance that Phillip Crasor couldn't do it. I didn't want to lose $50,000 any more than he wanted to lose the five. Phillip hadn't stuck at anything since he came out of the army, and I figured he'd drop out within a few weeks at the most. Then, I'd return his money and teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget about betting. And there was a very good chance that, after he learned what the job was to be, he'd drop the whole thing and agree to call the bet off. That would have been fine with me. I couldn't back down as long as Phillip Phil-lip wanted to go on, of course. The men at the club never would have forgotten it, and it would have hurt me in a business way. I went back to the others." He nursed his cigar for a few moments. "Phillip Crasor exploded when he learned what the job was to be. I didn't know it, but his handwriting was awful. He thought I was ribbing rib-bing him. The men in the club were having the time lof their lives. A well-known lawyer drew up a contract and both of us signed it. Phillip Crasor wouldn't back down and I couldn't I was to furnish the |