Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-04-26

away for the Postal Union with an I'M
blOtted telegram under his cap.
At that very moment a sedate, keen-eyed
man sat in the Founders Hotel, in Pitts
burg. "Is this Mr.. kilborn of Calcutta?
asked q suave youth. The gentleman, look
ing up, said quietly:
at is and surveyed a score Of other
more or less suave youths thanking and
backing his questioner.
They were all reporters, who had de-
scended on the Calcutta shpbuilder like a
swarm of grasshoppers. The spokesman
silently handed Kilborn a copy of the st.
Louis Record. received at the office an hour
before under special delivery stamp.
As the man from India read that ford
page his face was kaleidoscope Of emo
tions: Amusement gave way to anger
anger softened into amusement, then fol-
lowed shrewd calm Of calculation.
rs that correct?'' asked half a dozen re-
porters at once.
kilborn said nothing, he was smiling odd
ly at them. thinking rapidly.
Yes. sir. it is he answered at last. II
o K every word of it,
They rained verbal Interrogation points
at him. but he waved them all to the cigar
stand with smiling silence, paid the bill
for ALL slipped into the elevator beamed
down through the lattice for an upshoot-
ing instant on twenty kindling cigars, and
vanished. Then the news dripped from
twenty fertile pens and was licked to all
parts of the world.
And things We're doing in the Times office
that noon. Groves came in red-eyed, after
an all-night watch over his coughing
brother Fisher was wild.
Here your he yelled, as he shook a
copy of the Record in Groves drawn. hon
est face. Get out of here. There's the
story, you idiot! You've let me be scooped
| Git"
AS Groves moved bewildered down the
hall for the last time, Roberts, the manag-
ing editor, broke out Of the elevator and
went by him like snowplow.
1t meant artillery for Fisher. A city edi-
tor must stand for all the sins of the local
force. Although there was no love lost be-
tween Groves and the "Old Man." and
never had been, yet the insulted. discharged
reporter felt sorry for this superior during
the next half hour. He felt that his lack
Of news instinct-which is utterly unfor-
givable in a reporter, had been the cause
Of all the trouble. Yet figure as he might
he could not reasonably hold himself re-
| sponsible for the situation.
On the sidewalk Groves met Mac. The
| two rival reporters looked hard at each
| other; then Groves stopped and put out his
hand,
Good morning Mac. That's fine story
| You have this morning. I've just been fired
| for missing it,.
And I've been fred for getting it," an
| swered the piper" with a grin. Omar
himself could not take things, good or bad
| more calmly than can natural-born news
reporter. Groves could not help smiling al
| the outcome, yet the smile became wan A
man behind him coughed.
| Had breakfast?' asked Groves
! Nope. No appetite" responded Mac with
| empty cheerfulness.
| Neither have I-now," echoed Groves
! but l feel 1t crawling back. Let's eat"
| 60 you,' seconded Mac. Over a pair o.
| 16-cent small steaks and coffee in There
doris upstairs. Moser, the Record "cut'
| found them. He knew where to look Oh
general principles.
Martin wants to see you right away,
he conflded to Macs left ear.
| Macs pupils dilated.
| "All right. Tell m I'll be right over
Wants to get me in gun range, and put m
on the slab in the morgue," he added t,
Groves.
Ten minutes later Mac sauntered int
Martins Office.
Say, old man, beg your pardon" Mar
tin held out his hand, which was takel