Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1915-07-13
"A COMEDY r q ~ AN(6
- EARL DERR BIGGER5
AtRa SEVEN KEYS TO RALDPAIE
~ RON AM Z
csre.ssxrro TIM Bosss-MsaalsI coa'ANx

love Of Allah-alms!
They traversed several side streets,
and came at last to the Office of the
Chronicle. 1t was a modest struc.
ture, verging on decay. One man sat
alone in the dim interior, reading ex-
changes under an electric lamp.
Good evening"" said the short man
genially Are you the editor?"
"Uh, huh," responded the Chronicle
man without enthusiasm, from under
his green eye-shade.
Glad to know you. We just drop
you know. This is Mr. Harry Howe,
until recently managing editor of the
Mobile Press. My own name is Rob-
ert O'Neill--a humble editorial writer
on the same sheet"
'Uh, huh If you had Jobs for
Gods sake why did you leave them?'
"Ah, you may we'll ask" The red
haired one dropped, unlimited, into
chair. "Old man, it's a dramatic
story. The chief of police of Mobile
happened to be a crook and a CRATER,
and we happened to mention it In the
Press. Night before last twenty-five
armed cops invaded the peace ana
sanctity of our sanctum. Harry and
pure accident-landed in the same
general heap at the foot of the fire
escape out back. And here we are!
Here We are!"
my newspaper instinct" said the
Chronicle man, had already enabled
me to gather that last
Sarcasm. 1t was bad sign. But
Here We are he said, two expert
enced newspaper men, down and out.
We thought there might possibly be a
vacancy or two on the stan OF your
paper.
The editor threw off his eye shade,
revealing a cynical face.
Boys" he said, ri thank you from
the bottom Of my heart. I've been
running this alleged newspaper for
two long dreary years, and this laugh
you've Just handed me Is the tirst
i've had during that time. Vacancies!
There is one-a big one. See my pock'
ct for particulars. Two years, boys.
And all the time hoping-praylng-
that some day I'd make two dollars
and sixty cents, which is the railroad
fare to the next town"
Howe and O'Neill listened with
faces that steadily grew more sor-
rowful. ;,
"rd like to stake you to meal:
the editor went on. But a man
first duty is to his family. Any burg
lar will tell you that"
81 SUPPOSE" ventured O'Neill, most
of the flash gone from his manner,
"there is no other newspaper here:
mo there isn't. There's a weiro
thing here called the San Marco Mail
"a morning outrage. It's making
money hut by different methods than
I'd care to use You might try there.
You look unlucky. Perhaps they'd
take you on"
He rose from his chair and gave
them directions for reaching the Mail
Office.
Good night, boys" he said. THANK
you for calling. You're the first
newspaper men I've seen in two years,
except when I've looked in the glass.
And the other day l broke my look
ing glass. Good night, and bad luck
20 with you to the extent OF Jobs on
the Mail"
"Cynic," breathed O'Neill in the
street. "a bitter tongue maketh
sour face. I liked him not. A morn
ing outrage called the Mail Sounds
promising-like smallpox in the next
county"
1--WE shall see," said Howe, that
which meets our vision. Forward,
march,"
.The alligator and l." muttered
O'Neill, "famished, perishing. For
the love of Allah, as remarked be-
fore, alms!'
In the dark second floor hallway
where the Mail Office was suspected OF
being, they CROPPED about determined
ly. No sign of any nature proclaimed
San Marcos only morning paper. A
light, shining through tran
som. beckoned. Boldly O'Neill push.