Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 428 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

: But her speed momentarily slackened. For a hundred feet she pushed on, and then came to a dead halt. She was two-thirds buried. As Joe said, she had pushed into the drift like a cork into the neck of a bottle. ‘** Hope the chaps behind ain’t hurt,” growled the fireman, ‘They must have got a fling. *Tain’t no fun to be brung up so sudden.” Fred looked into the face of thcengineer. Tho latter shook his head in dow t. ‘“Can’t be dil,” he said. ‘‘ There’s a good hundred yards more of it, and it’s deeper as it goeson. We've done our best, but we ain’t got the weight to go through.” ‘* How far are we from the city?” ‘¢ About ten miles or thereaway.” Fred sat cogitating. A ten-mile walk through the snow, on a cold night. It was a shivering idea. But it was no time now to back down. ‘* Hist!” cried Joe, ‘* Here comes our passen- gers to see what’s bu'’sted. Drop down t’other side, boy. Don’t let ’em see you.” ‘* Good-by !” exclaimed Fred, ‘* I’m off for the city.” “ Hold fast, you little hound! You can’t do it. Yow'll be buried in the drift.” ‘‘T can try,” answered Fred, resolutely. He sprung from the cab, just as the two as- tonished passengers came wading up from the other side, Fred waded back through the cut until he reached the open ground beyond. Thesnow here came almost to his knees on a level. A broad field lay before him, on which fell the light of the moon in clear radiance, Notfar off the line of a high-road could be traced. There was only one thing tobe done. He waded on across the field. It was hard work to make his way through the depth of unbroken snow, but he soon gained the roadside. A light here, that came from a house beside the road, had attracted him. Reaching the locality he was pleasantly surprised tosee a two- horse sleigh geared up and standing before the house. It was a large, solid sleigh, filled with tin milk-cans. The driver was already on his seat, reins in hand. A shout from red attracted his atten- tion. ‘Where away?” ‘To the city. Got tostart early to break this confoundedsnow. Who are you?’ ‘“Come from a stalled» train, Got to go through.” The milkman shook his head. “Too much weight now on my horses. No room for passengers.” ‘‘How much profit is there on your load of milk?’ asked Fred. ‘* Say five dollars.” ‘‘T’ll make it a double-five. Here's your cash, Say the word.” “Good boy. Fork over. Jump in, My horses won’t be stalled as easy as your locomo- tive.” The next minute Fred was off for the city, behind a peal of jingling sleigh-bells. CHAPTER XIII. A DOUBLE SURPRISE. In the composing-room of the Morning Star a dozen men were sitting around chatting and smoking, They were the remnant of the force editors, compositors, reporters and others of the employees, the remainder having finished their work and gone home. Five o’clock sounded from a clock in the corner. *¢Guess our night’s work is done,” said one of them, knocking the ashesfromhis pipe. ‘* Might as well toddle home.” ‘That Lancaster item is snowed up, sure. Wires down and trains stalled.” ‘Good by. I’m off for a snooze.” Ere the speaker could reach the door, how- ever, it was flung violently open, and a youth- ful figure sprung into the room, He was white with snow from his Sa to his shoes, but it was the ardent face of Fred Flyer. | “Hurrah!” he yelled, flinging his cap into the air. ‘‘The Star’s the winning horse! First into the judges’ stand, and the rest floundering ten miles out! Stop the presses! All hands to work! New edition! Here’s the great Cam- eron speech! A good two hours ahead of the best of them!” The man with the pipe rushed up and seized the excited boy by the arm, shaking him vio- What do Want a lift. lently. $e tie down to sound sense, boy. youmean? Have you gotit?” “You bet! ters out. And discounted all the other re- Two of them snowed up, ten miles Lord knows where the rest are. Vaime Fred Flyer, a —— wee in at Ags on a milk-can, behind a pair of spankers. ere’s copy. Get down to the types. Quick as shooting. Every minute counts,” ‘* Jolly boy,” cried the editor, ‘‘ yowre worth your weight in gold. Jump down, Jack, and stop the presses. This item must come out in the first edition. Fling overboard all the papers printed. Lord, won’t we have the laugh on the other papers! To your cases, my ‘hearties! Where’s your copy, Fred?” ‘* Here,” answered the boy. ‘*Some of it to write out yet, but there’s enough to set them going.” He drew some penciled sheets from his pock- ets and distributed them among the eager type- setters, who flew to their cases. Within a min- ute the click of types could be heard, as they rapidly set up the matter handed them, ‘*Here, some of you,” continued the excited poy. Pen and ink’s the word. My hands are frozen to icicles. But my tongue isn’t TU read my short-hand notes, if somebody will CO yy.” ‘“Where did you make that other copy, Fred?” ‘* Driving in, behind them A gcse a in the milk sleigh. They came so rapid that their tails stood out just like boards. Wrote on them like a chap would write on a table.” ‘You lie, you young hound!” “Then don’t ask ridiculous questions when a fellow isina hurry. Here, Bill Button, you're spry with the pen. Take this down.” ‘red rapidly read off his notes to the penman, who took them down with wonderful rapidity. The sheets, as fast as finished, were passed over to the compositors. The types flew in a steady stream into the composing-sticks. Everybody about the office was busy. The laziness of ten minutes before was exchanged for a restless activity. In an incredibly short space of time the report of the speech was set up, and a proof-sheet was struck off. Flung into the hands of the proof- reader, the proof was read and corrected with lightning speed. Once more to the compositors, In less than half an hour from Fred’s entry to the office, a clean copy was drawn, and the editor sung out: ‘Spry, now. Knock out the first column of matter. It’s all patch-work, anyhow. Put this in its place. Set the presses whirling quick as thunder. We'll be late on the street with our issue. But won’t we set the other journals wild? Off, now. Don’t lose a minute for an earth- quake!” Away they went, right and left. Yankee grit and go. ** And now, my jolly young rooster, let’s hear all about it,” he continued, turning to Fred, ‘*You must have had anight of it. Pelt out your story, boy, and let us off. We're clean done out with the night’s work.” Fred leaned back luxuriously on a wooden box, with the bare wall fora cushion. It was as soft a sofa as he cared for, The others gath- ered curiously around, anxious to hear his story. He looked none the worse for his night’s work, but was bright and brisk as a bird. It was an exciting story he had to tell them, from his leaving the station at Philadelphia, to his return in the milkman’s sleigh, breaking through roads from an inch to a foot deep in snow, and ending with a half-mile run along the city streets to the office, ‘‘Tt was touch and go,” he cried, ‘‘ Left the Press and the Times shivering in a snow-drift. Cost them like thunder to hire a train. Wouldn’t they be raging if they knew that the Star stole a passage? They can’t nohow get in before day- break. We'll have the Star blazing with the news two hours ahead of the best of them. And the fun of it is they can’t guess how it was done.” ‘‘Keep mum, everybody,” cautioned the edi- tor... ‘* Let them stew. You're a brick, Fred. Womt.forget you in a hard job:again., now, gentlemen, home’s the word. i’m as sleepy as a porker after dinner.” Away they went, right, left, east and west, and Fred among them, making his way home after his hard night’s work. And away down-stairs in the Star office, be- low the composing-rooms, below the editorial dens, below the distributing-offices, below the ground floor, far away underground, throbbed and clanked the busy presses, working off at enormous speed the day’s issue, and tossing the wet sheets, full of the news of the world, like the flakes of a snow-storm from its iron jaws. Within a half-hour more Fred was home, safe in his bed, snoring away, and off in the land of visions through snow-drifts fifty feet It was true the Reporter Detective, SS -sts-steeeeesee-ss ed And Li SS deep, and in locomotives as big as mountains, which hurled the snows before them like vol- Canoes, Again, he found himself in a mammoth print- ing office, where a hundred type-setters were busy setting up political speeches fifty fath« ms long, While a regiment of reporters were assail- ing the office, cager to recover the news that had been stolen from them, And then in the streets were five hundred newsboys, full of vim, yelling out the Morning Star” at the top of their lungs, till the whole city rung with the chorus. But this latter was not quitea dream. Fred’s senses came back to him with a snap. And the first thing that sounded in his ears was the cry of a shrill-toned newsboy, screaming out im stentorian tones: ‘*'Yere’s yer Morning Star! Yere’s yer Star! All the latest news! The great Cameron speech! Biggest thing out! Special to Star. Ain’t in any other paper! Buya Star, if you went alk the news!” Fred turned and rolled in his bed. His nap was not half out, but it was impossible to get to sleep again. Helaughed to himself as he got up om dressed. ‘* Won't them coons of the Press and Times be raging? They can guess till they’re blue, Won’t never be able to tell how it was done,” It was broad daylight when he came down- stairs. His mother was bustling about, prepar- ing breakfast. Around her was a group of the young fry constantly in her way. In the cor- ner sat his father, smoking his usual morning; ipe. ' ‘* Where been, Fred?” he asked. ‘‘ Making a night of it, boy? Wild might for human folks to be abroad in.” ‘*Newspaper business.” answered Fred. ‘Breakfast soon be ready, mother? I’ve got to be off.” ‘*Hunery, Fred?’ ‘‘Tlungry as a mouse,” ‘‘Tr will be ready in ten minutes.” “Put out, little bob-tail, for a Star,” said Fred to his next younger brother. ‘That will tell all about it. Been sleighing, and railroad- ing, and wading, and having a jolly go, right through. All in the Star. Here I am, right side up with care. Got slap-jacks for break- fast, mother? You never seen a boy half as hungry.” ‘* No nonsense, Fred. cried the father, sharply. “Up to Lancaster, Taking down the big Cameron speech. Bu’sted through ten snow- drifts, but went through flying. There’s the whole business in the Star.” His younger bro- ther rushed in with the paper. ‘Hand it over to your daddy. He wants the news.” Soon breaktast was on the table, and Fred satisfying an appetite that was simply rav- enous. In a few minutes, however, he was up again.. Seizing his hat he ran briskly for the door, cry- ing out: ‘* Tell you the whole story when I come back. Business before pleasure. Got to pitchin. A. chap that’s running a newspaper ain’t got no time to spare.” It was but little after eight o’clock in the morning. His course took him to Market street, out which he turned toward the Schuy)kill. At the same moment a Market street car was coming toward him from the opposite direction. It contained but two passengers, who were lol- ling lazily on the cushions, apparently the worse for wear. They were the two reporters whom Fred had so neatly done, ‘‘ Ha!” cried one of them, suddenly starting bolt upright, with a face as long as a broom-- stick. ‘* What’s that? Do you hear that?” *‘Tt’s some confounded nonsense,” exclaimed the other, looking as startled as his companion. The cause of this sudden movement was the cry of a newsboy, who was busily bawling out: ‘“ Morning Star! Great Cameron speech} ‘Head of all the papers! Morning Star !” “Tt’s a lie,’ growled the Press reporter. ‘‘Made up inthe office. We're firstin. Take the starch out of that when the correct speech comes on.” His companion grasped his arm and pointed out the car window. He was too fulhof emo- tion to speak. There, befcre their eyes, was Fred Flyer, walking gayly along the pavement. The next instant the baffled reporters were plunging out of the car, Fred found himself suddenly confronted by a pair of excited men, ‘What does this mean? How did you get here? What confounded lie is the Star putting, out? Where’ve you been?”