Some Buried Caesar

"You are like hell. I know all about it… from the beginning. It's just another of your cheap efforts to make my father look cheap-you keep out of this, Sis!"

"You're wrong, my boy." Pratt sounded tolerant. "I don't do anything cheap… I can afford not to. Let me tell you something. I understand the best bull your father's got is getting pretty old. Well, if your father came to me and asked for that bull I bought, I'd be strongly inclined to let him have him as a gift. I certainly would."

"No doubt! A gift!" Clyde was nearly overcome with scorn. "Now I'll tell you. There was a lot of talk over at Crowfield today. Of course, as a member of the Guernsey League, my father was in on it. He was sure that the plan Bennett arranged with Cullen and McMillan wouldn't work… he said he knew you since you were a boy and you wouldn't turn loose. My sister Nancy got the idea of coming here to try to persuade you, and I agreed to come along. On the way we met Bennett and Darth and Cullen going back, and they told us what had happened. I came on anyhow, though it didn't look like there was much chance of talking you out of it. Now I'd like to make a bet with you. Do you ever do any betting?"

"I'm not a gambler." Pratt chuckled. "I'm not exactly a confirmed gambler, but I don't mind an occasional friendly wager. I won a nice chunk on the 1936 election."

"Would you care to try a little bet with me? Say $10,000?"

"On what?"

They got interrupted. A voice sounded, "Oh, there you are," and Monte McMillan was coming across the terrace. He sounded a little relieved. He approached Pratt: "They were fooling around the fence on the other side, and I told them they might as well go on, and I wasn't sure where they got to. Not that I would suspect the Osgood youngsters of stealing a bull…"

Pratt grunted. "Sit down and have a drink. Bert! Bert!" He turned to Clyde: "What is it you want to bet about, my boy?"

Clyde leaned forward at him. "I'll bet you $10,000 you don't barbecue Hickory Caesar Grindon."

His sister Nancy exclaimed, "Clyde!" Wolfe's eyes went half shut. The others made sounds, and even Lily Rowan showed some interest. McMillan, who had started to sit down, stopped himself at an angle and held it a second, and then slowly sank.

Pratt asked quietly, "What's going to stop me?"

Clyde turned the palms of his hands up. "It's either a bet or it isn't. That's all."

"$10,000 even that we don't barbecue Hickory Caesar Grindon."

"Right."

"Within what time?"

"Say this week."