The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-11-06
Copyright, 1s14 by Robb. Merrill Co. q3 g5 n w g g3 g3 w w W ga w g3 w @ g3 W W W 60 @
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 He stared placidly at the two strangers. O'Neill put one hand to his head.
 "See me safely to my park bench. Harry" he said "It was that drink on an empty stomach I'm all in daze I hear strange things"
 "I hear 'em. too," said Howe. See here'-he turnaai 9 Mears-"aro you offering to resign in our favor?
 "The minute you say the word" l. Both or youT' z Relieve me-" sa.l the city editor, you can't say. the word too soon." Well" said Howe, T don't know what's the matter with the place, but you can consider the deal closed.''
 Spoken like a sport!" The bearded man stood up. You can draw lots to determine who is to be managing edi- tor and who city editor. It's an excel lent scheme. attained my proud posi- tion that way. One condition4 attach. Ask no questions. Let us gtSout into the night unburdened with your inter- rogaion points,"
 Elliott, too, stood. The bearded man indicated the bottle. Fill up, boys. l propose toast. To the new editors of the Mail. May heaven bless them and bring them safely back to the north when Florida's fitful fever is past'' Dizzily, uncertainty, Howe and O'Neill drank. MT. Mears reached out u great red hand toward the bottle. Pardon me-private property" he said He pocketed 1t. "We bid you goodby and good luck. Think of us on the choochoo, please. Riding far-rid- ing far.'' =,
 "But-see here"- cried O'Neill.
 "But me no buts," said Mears again Mary question, I beg of you. Take our jobs, and if you think of us at all think of gleaming rails and speeding train. Once more goodby."
 The door slammed. O'Nefl looked at Howe Fairies" he muttered, Tor the D. T.'s. What is this-a comic. opera or town? You are mana ring editor, Har- ry. shall be city editor. Is there a city to edit? No natter
 "No," said Howe. He reached for the greasy pack of cards. eve draw for it. Come on. High wins"
 "Jack," announced MT. O'Neill.
 Deuce" smiled Howe SWhat are your orders, sir?"
 O'Neill passed one hand before his eyes.
 "A steak" he muttered. ''Well done. Mushroom sauce. French fried potatoes. I've always dreamed of running paper some day. Hurry up with that steak"
 Forget your stomach said Howe. of subordinate may make a sug- gestion, we must get out newspaper An, whom have we here?''
 stocky, red faced man appeared from the inner room and stood regard. ing them.
 Where's Mears and Elliott?' he de manded.
 "On a train. riding far," said O'Neill ' am the new managing editor. Wha, can I do for you?'
 You can give me four columns o1 copy for the last page of tomorrow $ Mail" said the stocly man calmly I'm foreman of something in there we call a composing room Glad to meet you
 -Four columns" unused O'Neill -Four columns of what?"
 The foreman pointed to row of bat tered books on shelf.
 Its been the custom" he said, 'tc fill up with stuff out of that encyclo pedia there"
 Thanks" O'Neill answered. He took down book. "We'll fix you up in ter minutes. MT. Howe, will you pleas do me two columns on-er--mulli gatawny-.nurder-m That's it. On mushrooms. The life story oi the humble little mushroom I myself will dash off column or SO on the climate of Algeria"
 Thc- ,.,cEed up suddenly ten minutes later to find a man standing between them He was a little man, clad al In white, suit, loes, :tockings. His sly old face was lemon yellow, and his eyes suggested lights flaming in the dark woods at night
 Beg pardon said the little man.
 "Ah, and what can we do for you ? Inquired O'Neill. /
 "Nothing. MT. Mears? MT. Elliott ? ."Gone Vamosed. You are now speak to the managing editor of the Mail.'
 "Ah. Indeedw
 eve are very busy. If you'll jus tell me what you want
 T merely dropped in. am Manue Gonzale, owner of the Mail.p
 Good Lord!'' cried O'Neill.
 "Do net be disturbed. I take it yo' gentlemen have replaced Mears ant Elliott. I am glad. Let them go. To, look like bright young men to me quite bright enough. I employ you.' ,i Thanks" stammered the managinl editor.
 Don't mention it. Here is Mme On Dit's colum:; Tor tomorrow. It run! on the first page. As for the rest o the paper, Suit yourselves"
 O'Neill took the copy and glanced through it.
 Are there no libel laws down hereY