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"There!" Sam announced. "That's a binding document."

It looked legal and imposing to Bert, but his eyes had clouded. "Why do I get only one-third?" he asked.

"Isn't an idea worth something?" Sam demanded. "One-third to me for my money, one-third to you for your money, and the other one-third to me for the idea. When a man invents something, that's only an idea, but he gets a royalty on it. That's business."

Bert was half convinced. But one-third seemed so small. . ..

"No use wasting time," Sam said irritably, and reached for the agreement. "We sign this or I tear it up."

Bert clutched at the opportunity that seemed to be slipping. "I'll sign," he said, and another copy of the agreement was written. That night Bert slept with his copy under his pillow.

A tinge of that desire for secrecy that comes, at some time, to every boy, was now his. He cherished a vision of future prosperity, of taking the town by the ears and of being pointed out as a young man who would go far. He did not tell his mother what lay in store for him, nor did he so much as hint at the plan to his father. To let