CHAPTER VII.“NO LOAFERS NOR REPORTERS ADMITTED.”AS THE young reporter entered thePhonographoffice that Monday morning he wondered whether or not his week of trial had been satisfactory. Was he to retain his position, or was he to be politely told that he was a failure, and that the paper had no need of him? The anxiety aroused by the mere thought of such a thing weighed heavily upon him, and he entered the city-room feeling like an accused person when about to hear the verdict that shall either set him free or consign him to a cell. Thus agitated, but setting his teeth and walking bravely forward to meet his fate, Myles was stopped by hearing Mr. Brown say:“Oh, Mr. Manning, wait a moment, if you please. Here are the keys of a vacant desk and of locker No. 20, that the city editor says you are to have.”The verdict was rendered, and it was in his favor. He need have no more fears. The week of trial had proved satisfactory to his superior officers, and they had decided that it was safe to place him “under orders.”“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN IN YOUR CASE.” (Page96.)“Hurrah for the new reporter and future editor-in-chief of thePhonograph!” he mentally shouted.To all outward appearance, however, he was as calm as usual, and only the heightened color of his face gave token of his excitement.Taking the keys from Mr. Brown, and thanking him for them, Myles hung his hat in locker No 20. His locker! Then he found the desk that was to be his, unlocked its empty drawer, opened it, closed it again, and sat down before it to indulge in a daydream of all the fine things he would write at that desk; of the special articles he would prepare, and hide away in that drawer until they should be finished and ready to win for him a name.These pleasant thoughts were interrupted, and Myles started as a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Rolfe’s cordial voice said:“Good-morning, Manning. Allow me to congratulate you upon getting a desk. In this office the possession, of a desk is the sign that a man is doing satisfactory work and is lookedupon with favor. If, however, at any time Mr. Brown should politely ask you for the key, you might as well resign at once and look for another job, for you would get no more assignments here. It would be the signal of dismissal. I am not afraid for you, though, and I predict that you will hold the key to your present position until you are ready to resign it of your own accord. By the way, what are you going to make your special line of work? Nearly every reporter, while of course always ready to accept any assignment that is offered, has some specialty in which he excels. Some take to politics, detective work, or court reporting, and some to marine work, such as yacht-racing, wrecks, launches, and all things connected with the sea. Others make a specialty of athletic sports, and still others of society events. My own specialty, so far as I can find out that I have one, is, I believe, humoristical. At least I have the wholly undeserved credit of writing humorous stories.”“I’m sure I can’t imagine what mine will be,” laughed Myles, who felt particularly joyous just at that moment. “I don’t feel that I know much about any thing, unless it is boats and boat-racing.”Then he confided to Rolfe his desire to witness the great college boat-race at New London, and asked his advice about applying for the assignment.“Certainly,” replied the other. “Apply for it by all means. Mr. Haxall likes to find out in that way what the fellows are most interested in, and makes a point of giving a reporter the style of work most congenial to his tastes if he possibly can. His theory is that a fellow will do much better if he is interested in his job than he would if it were distasteful to him. Of course it does not happen one time out of ten that a fellow gets the particular assignment that he would prefer; but that is not Mr. Haxall’s fault, and he is always glad to have the preference expressed.”Thus encouraged, Myles stepped to the city editor’s desk, and, interrupting for a moment the busy work of clipping memoranda from the morning papers, made his request.Mr. Haxall listened patiently to all that he had to say, and then smilingly answered:“I am very sorry, Mr. Manning, but that assignment has already been given to Billings. I have, however, another piece of work for you that, Ibelieve, you will do just as well. It is of the utmost importance, and will, I think, interest you greatly. I wish you would set out at once and obtain every possible detail regarding this case.”Thus saying the city editor handed Myles a paragraph that he had just clipped from a morning paper, and instantly resumed his interrupted work. Myles’ curiosity had been greatly aroused by these remarks, and he imagined that some really important piece of work was about to be confided to him. What was his disgust, then, upon reading the slip as he slowly returned to his desk, to find that it was only a stabbing affray among the Italians of the “Bend,” one of the filthiest slums of the city!“It is too bad!” he exclaimed to Rolfe, who was waiting to learn the result of his interview. “The idea of giving me such a wretched job as this, and trying to make me think it was such an important one too.”“Oh no, it isn’t too bad,” laughed Rolfe. “It is only one of the little jokes that Joe delights in, and he will chuckle over it to himself for an hour. But, really, you know that job has to be done by somebody, and he only gave it, impartially, to the first man who happened along, which was you. It wouldhave been just the same if I had gone to him instead of you. He would have given it to me just as quick. Joe has his failings, of course, like the rest of us, and sometimes I get awfully provoked at him; but I must say that I consider him the most absolutely just man I ever knew, and I believe his constant aim is to show perfect impartiality in all his dealings with those under him. That is more than can be said of most city editors.”So Myles, somewhat comforted by these words, started for the “Bend,” instead of for New London, and passed the greater part of the long hot day amid such scenes of misery as only a great city can disclose. For the next two days also, it seemed as though all the assignments of this nature fell to him. At their end he was soul-sick of the disgusting work he had been called upon to perform, and the desperate wretchedness amid which he had lived. On the third morning, as he entered the office in a dejected frame of mind, wondering what form of human suffering he would have to encounter that day, Mr. Haxall called him and said:“I believe, Mr. Manning, that you have had some practical experience in college boat-racing.”“A little, sir,” answered Myles, modestly.“Well,” continued the city editor, “while Billings is a most admirable descriptive writer, he is not as familiar as I could wish with the details of timing a crew, noting their form, and so forth. I have decided, therefore, to send you to New London to help him out. The race will not take place until the day after to-morrow, but I think you had better run up there to-day so as to be on hand. You will, of course, report to Billings, and here is an order on the cashier for twenty-five dollars for your expenses. If you need any more, Billings will furnish it.”Myles had so completely dismissed all thoughts of the boat-race from his mind, that had Mr. Haxall offered him the position of managing editor he could hardly have been more amazed than by this assignment. He was, however, rapidly learning to conceal all signs of surprise upon such occasions, and so, answering, “Very well, sir,” he took the order on the cashier and left the office.An hour later he was rolling out of the Grand Central station on his way to New London, while the scenes amid which he had passed the preceding two days were already fading beneath the influence of pleasant anticipations.Arrived at New London, he had no difficulty in finding Billings, who, having secured for his own use the finest apartment in the best hotel in the city, was now the centre of an interested group of reporters gathered behind its closed doors.“Hello, Manning!” cried the generally languid Billings, who now appeared greatly excited. “Come in. You are just in time to take part in our indignation meeting. What do you think the nice little boys of the X—— College crew have gone and done?”“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Myles, flushing at the tone in which his recent mates were spoken of. “I don’t believe, though, that it is any thing to be ashamed of.”“Isn’t it, though!” cried several voices, while Billings said:“It is something they ought to be ashamed of if they are not. Why, they actually have had the cheek to put a big sign out in front of their quarters bearing the legend, ‘No Loafers nor Reporters Admitted.’ What do you think of that for impudence, when, if it wasn’t for the press, as represented by us reporters, their little penny races would never be heard of outside of their own little circle of friends?Now, there are plenty of college graduates among us here. We know just how conceited and ‘cocky’ these young fellows feel, and we can make allowances for them, but this is going a little too far. What do you say to it, Manning?”With face as red as fire, but with a brave, honest look in his eyes, Myles stood up and said:“I expect I am responsible for this insult, gentlemen, and right here I wish to apologize for it, both on my own account and in behalf of the crew of which I was so recently the captain.”Here there was a slight movement of surprise among the other reporters, most of whom were strangers to Myles, and they regarded him curiously.“Yes,” he continued, “I was captain of the X—— College crew, and I suggested that, on coming here this year, we put up some such notice as that of which Billings speaks. I did so in utter ignorance of what sort of fellows the majority of reporters are, and because last year’s crew was greatly bothered by one who made himself a perfect nuisance. He hung about the quarters all the time, patronized the boys, undertook to tell them that their style of rowing was entirely wrong, and tried to have themchange it to suit his ideas. Above all, his reports, as published and widely copied, were so filled with absurdities and falsehoods regarding the crew as made them a laughing-stock for the community. I do not see him here this year, and I am glad of it, but, for fear he would be, I suggested putting up that notice, because we did not know how to exclude one reporter without making a rule that should apply to all. I am sorry now that I ever made such a suggestion, and still more so that my successor has seen fit to carry it out. If you fellows will only have a little patience, and not send any thing to your papers about this matter before my return, I will go out to the quarters and see what influence I can use to have that notice removed.”“Good enough!” exclaimed Billings. “You have spoken out like a gentleman, Manning, and I think I can answer for every reporter here by saying that we accept your very handsome apology for your share in this unfortunate business. We will also give you the chance you ask for, to exert your influence toward having the thing taken down, before we begin to make it unpleasant for them in the papers; won’t we, fellows?”“Of course we will,” was the almost unanimous reply.There was, however, one fellow mean enough to slip unnoticed out of the room and telegraph the whole affair to his paper, laying all the blame upon poor Myles, whom he spoke of as having repented when it was too late. For this act he was afterward kicked off the press-boat by the other reporters, and so lost his chance of seeing the race.In the meantime Myles and Billings hurried from the hotel, engaged a horse and buggy, crossed the ferry to the Groton side of the river, and drove rapidly up the pleasant country road along its eastern bank to the X—— quarters.As they drew up in front of the roomy farmhouse that Myles remembered so well, he sprang out and found himself face to face with his old rival, Ben Watkins. Ben, who was now captain of the crew, was walking toward the front gate, above which was displayed the cause of all the trouble.“How are you, Ben?” said Myles, cordially, as he stepped toward the gate with the intention of entering.“Ah, Manning, that you?” answered the other ina constrained tone. “Glad to see you—that is,” he added, hesitatingly, “if you come as a friend.”“As a friend?” questioned Myles in amazement, stopping outside the gate, against which Watkins now leaned in such a manner as to prevent its being opened. “What can you mean? How else could I come to the quarters of the X—— College crew?”“Oh, well,” replied Watkins, a little uneasily, “I heard you had gone on to some paper, and I didn’t know but what you came as a reporter.”“So I do come as a reporter, as well as a friend of X——,” replied Myles, whose voice trembled a little, though he tried to speak calmly and naturally. “I have been sent here to help report this race for thePhonograph. But what difference does that make?”“A great deal,” answered Watkins; “for I don’t see how we can break through that rule”—here he pointed to the notice above their heads—“even in your case.”“Do you mean to say that, merely because he has become a reporter, you refuse to admit to these grounds the man who was captain of this crew only two weeks ago?” cried Myles, hotly.“That’s about the size of it. If we exclude onereporter we must exclude all. Those, I believe, were your own words. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do, you know, to let friendship interfere with business.”“If I acknowledge that I was a fool when I made that speech, if I tell you that this miserable notice is one of the biggest mistakes you could possibly make, and beg you, for the sake of the college and of the crew, to take it down, won’t you do it?” asked Myles.“No; I don’t think we will. Of course it is natural for you to think that way now. Perhaps I would in your place; but, as I have not the motive that you have to change my opinion of reporters, I rather think we will let the notice remain where it is, and act up to it.”“Then,” replied Myles, whose hot temper was rapidly escaping from his control, “all I have to say is that, in putting up this notice, you made a fool of yourself, and in keeping it up you not only disgrace yourself but the college you represent.”“And in reply to such a very friendly speech I would remark that when a fellow, pretending to be a gentleman, relinquishes those pretensions and becomes a reporter, he has descended to the level for which nature intended him,” retorted Watkins.“If it were not for breaking up the crew on the eve of a great race, I’d make you apologize for those words, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles.“You can’t do it, and you dare not try,” was the mocking answer.Myles had so completely lost control of himself by this time, that he would have answered this taunt by something much more forcible than words, and undoubtedly Ben Watkins would have had cause to regret arousing the wrath of the young athlete before whom the best men in the X—— gymnasium had been unable to stand up; but just then a soft hand was laid on the young reporter’s shoulder, and Billings’ languid voice drawled out:“Let the poor fellow go, Manning. He will hurt himself more than you can hurt him in the long run.”Myles allowed himself to be persuaded, and in another minute the two reporters were driving rapidly back toward the city.“It is too bad,” said Myles, presently, “that your chance of getting a description of the crew, and how they live in training, and of the boat, should be knocked in the head by that fellow’s stupidity.”“Oh, I’ll get all that to-morrow,” was the careless reply.“But they won’t admit you.”“I guess they will, and tell me all I want to know, and show me every thing I want to see. I shouldn’t wonder if they even invited me to go out with them in their boat—and I’ll do it too.”“Whatever can you mean?” asked Myles.“Wait until to-morrow and I’ll show you the trick,” said Billings.
CHAPTER VII.“NO LOAFERS NOR REPORTERS ADMITTED.”AS THE young reporter entered thePhonographoffice that Monday morning he wondered whether or not his week of trial had been satisfactory. Was he to retain his position, or was he to be politely told that he was a failure, and that the paper had no need of him? The anxiety aroused by the mere thought of such a thing weighed heavily upon him, and he entered the city-room feeling like an accused person when about to hear the verdict that shall either set him free or consign him to a cell. Thus agitated, but setting his teeth and walking bravely forward to meet his fate, Myles was stopped by hearing Mr. Brown say:“Oh, Mr. Manning, wait a moment, if you please. Here are the keys of a vacant desk and of locker No. 20, that the city editor says you are to have.”The verdict was rendered, and it was in his favor. He need have no more fears. The week of trial had proved satisfactory to his superior officers, and they had decided that it was safe to place him “under orders.”“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN IN YOUR CASE.” (Page96.)“Hurrah for the new reporter and future editor-in-chief of thePhonograph!” he mentally shouted.To all outward appearance, however, he was as calm as usual, and only the heightened color of his face gave token of his excitement.Taking the keys from Mr. Brown, and thanking him for them, Myles hung his hat in locker No 20. His locker! Then he found the desk that was to be his, unlocked its empty drawer, opened it, closed it again, and sat down before it to indulge in a daydream of all the fine things he would write at that desk; of the special articles he would prepare, and hide away in that drawer until they should be finished and ready to win for him a name.These pleasant thoughts were interrupted, and Myles started as a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Rolfe’s cordial voice said:“Good-morning, Manning. Allow me to congratulate you upon getting a desk. In this office the possession, of a desk is the sign that a man is doing satisfactory work and is lookedupon with favor. If, however, at any time Mr. Brown should politely ask you for the key, you might as well resign at once and look for another job, for you would get no more assignments here. It would be the signal of dismissal. I am not afraid for you, though, and I predict that you will hold the key to your present position until you are ready to resign it of your own accord. By the way, what are you going to make your special line of work? Nearly every reporter, while of course always ready to accept any assignment that is offered, has some specialty in which he excels. Some take to politics, detective work, or court reporting, and some to marine work, such as yacht-racing, wrecks, launches, and all things connected with the sea. Others make a specialty of athletic sports, and still others of society events. My own specialty, so far as I can find out that I have one, is, I believe, humoristical. At least I have the wholly undeserved credit of writing humorous stories.”“I’m sure I can’t imagine what mine will be,” laughed Myles, who felt particularly joyous just at that moment. “I don’t feel that I know much about any thing, unless it is boats and boat-racing.”Then he confided to Rolfe his desire to witness the great college boat-race at New London, and asked his advice about applying for the assignment.“Certainly,” replied the other. “Apply for it by all means. Mr. Haxall likes to find out in that way what the fellows are most interested in, and makes a point of giving a reporter the style of work most congenial to his tastes if he possibly can. His theory is that a fellow will do much better if he is interested in his job than he would if it were distasteful to him. Of course it does not happen one time out of ten that a fellow gets the particular assignment that he would prefer; but that is not Mr. Haxall’s fault, and he is always glad to have the preference expressed.”Thus encouraged, Myles stepped to the city editor’s desk, and, interrupting for a moment the busy work of clipping memoranda from the morning papers, made his request.Mr. Haxall listened patiently to all that he had to say, and then smilingly answered:“I am very sorry, Mr. Manning, but that assignment has already been given to Billings. I have, however, another piece of work for you that, Ibelieve, you will do just as well. It is of the utmost importance, and will, I think, interest you greatly. I wish you would set out at once and obtain every possible detail regarding this case.”Thus saying the city editor handed Myles a paragraph that he had just clipped from a morning paper, and instantly resumed his interrupted work. Myles’ curiosity had been greatly aroused by these remarks, and he imagined that some really important piece of work was about to be confided to him. What was his disgust, then, upon reading the slip as he slowly returned to his desk, to find that it was only a stabbing affray among the Italians of the “Bend,” one of the filthiest slums of the city!“It is too bad!” he exclaimed to Rolfe, who was waiting to learn the result of his interview. “The idea of giving me such a wretched job as this, and trying to make me think it was such an important one too.”“Oh no, it isn’t too bad,” laughed Rolfe. “It is only one of the little jokes that Joe delights in, and he will chuckle over it to himself for an hour. But, really, you know that job has to be done by somebody, and he only gave it, impartially, to the first man who happened along, which was you. It wouldhave been just the same if I had gone to him instead of you. He would have given it to me just as quick. Joe has his failings, of course, like the rest of us, and sometimes I get awfully provoked at him; but I must say that I consider him the most absolutely just man I ever knew, and I believe his constant aim is to show perfect impartiality in all his dealings with those under him. That is more than can be said of most city editors.”So Myles, somewhat comforted by these words, started for the “Bend,” instead of for New London, and passed the greater part of the long hot day amid such scenes of misery as only a great city can disclose. For the next two days also, it seemed as though all the assignments of this nature fell to him. At their end he was soul-sick of the disgusting work he had been called upon to perform, and the desperate wretchedness amid which he had lived. On the third morning, as he entered the office in a dejected frame of mind, wondering what form of human suffering he would have to encounter that day, Mr. Haxall called him and said:“I believe, Mr. Manning, that you have had some practical experience in college boat-racing.”“A little, sir,” answered Myles, modestly.“Well,” continued the city editor, “while Billings is a most admirable descriptive writer, he is not as familiar as I could wish with the details of timing a crew, noting their form, and so forth. I have decided, therefore, to send you to New London to help him out. The race will not take place until the day after to-morrow, but I think you had better run up there to-day so as to be on hand. You will, of course, report to Billings, and here is an order on the cashier for twenty-five dollars for your expenses. If you need any more, Billings will furnish it.”Myles had so completely dismissed all thoughts of the boat-race from his mind, that had Mr. Haxall offered him the position of managing editor he could hardly have been more amazed than by this assignment. He was, however, rapidly learning to conceal all signs of surprise upon such occasions, and so, answering, “Very well, sir,” he took the order on the cashier and left the office.An hour later he was rolling out of the Grand Central station on his way to New London, while the scenes amid which he had passed the preceding two days were already fading beneath the influence of pleasant anticipations.Arrived at New London, he had no difficulty in finding Billings, who, having secured for his own use the finest apartment in the best hotel in the city, was now the centre of an interested group of reporters gathered behind its closed doors.“Hello, Manning!” cried the generally languid Billings, who now appeared greatly excited. “Come in. You are just in time to take part in our indignation meeting. What do you think the nice little boys of the X—— College crew have gone and done?”“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Myles, flushing at the tone in which his recent mates were spoken of. “I don’t believe, though, that it is any thing to be ashamed of.”“Isn’t it, though!” cried several voices, while Billings said:“It is something they ought to be ashamed of if they are not. Why, they actually have had the cheek to put a big sign out in front of their quarters bearing the legend, ‘No Loafers nor Reporters Admitted.’ What do you think of that for impudence, when, if it wasn’t for the press, as represented by us reporters, their little penny races would never be heard of outside of their own little circle of friends?Now, there are plenty of college graduates among us here. We know just how conceited and ‘cocky’ these young fellows feel, and we can make allowances for them, but this is going a little too far. What do you say to it, Manning?”With face as red as fire, but with a brave, honest look in his eyes, Myles stood up and said:“I expect I am responsible for this insult, gentlemen, and right here I wish to apologize for it, both on my own account and in behalf of the crew of which I was so recently the captain.”Here there was a slight movement of surprise among the other reporters, most of whom were strangers to Myles, and they regarded him curiously.“Yes,” he continued, “I was captain of the X—— College crew, and I suggested that, on coming here this year, we put up some such notice as that of which Billings speaks. I did so in utter ignorance of what sort of fellows the majority of reporters are, and because last year’s crew was greatly bothered by one who made himself a perfect nuisance. He hung about the quarters all the time, patronized the boys, undertook to tell them that their style of rowing was entirely wrong, and tried to have themchange it to suit his ideas. Above all, his reports, as published and widely copied, were so filled with absurdities and falsehoods regarding the crew as made them a laughing-stock for the community. I do not see him here this year, and I am glad of it, but, for fear he would be, I suggested putting up that notice, because we did not know how to exclude one reporter without making a rule that should apply to all. I am sorry now that I ever made such a suggestion, and still more so that my successor has seen fit to carry it out. If you fellows will only have a little patience, and not send any thing to your papers about this matter before my return, I will go out to the quarters and see what influence I can use to have that notice removed.”“Good enough!” exclaimed Billings. “You have spoken out like a gentleman, Manning, and I think I can answer for every reporter here by saying that we accept your very handsome apology for your share in this unfortunate business. We will also give you the chance you ask for, to exert your influence toward having the thing taken down, before we begin to make it unpleasant for them in the papers; won’t we, fellows?”“Of course we will,” was the almost unanimous reply.There was, however, one fellow mean enough to slip unnoticed out of the room and telegraph the whole affair to his paper, laying all the blame upon poor Myles, whom he spoke of as having repented when it was too late. For this act he was afterward kicked off the press-boat by the other reporters, and so lost his chance of seeing the race.In the meantime Myles and Billings hurried from the hotel, engaged a horse and buggy, crossed the ferry to the Groton side of the river, and drove rapidly up the pleasant country road along its eastern bank to the X—— quarters.As they drew up in front of the roomy farmhouse that Myles remembered so well, he sprang out and found himself face to face with his old rival, Ben Watkins. Ben, who was now captain of the crew, was walking toward the front gate, above which was displayed the cause of all the trouble.“How are you, Ben?” said Myles, cordially, as he stepped toward the gate with the intention of entering.“Ah, Manning, that you?” answered the other ina constrained tone. “Glad to see you—that is,” he added, hesitatingly, “if you come as a friend.”“As a friend?” questioned Myles in amazement, stopping outside the gate, against which Watkins now leaned in such a manner as to prevent its being opened. “What can you mean? How else could I come to the quarters of the X—— College crew?”“Oh, well,” replied Watkins, a little uneasily, “I heard you had gone on to some paper, and I didn’t know but what you came as a reporter.”“So I do come as a reporter, as well as a friend of X——,” replied Myles, whose voice trembled a little, though he tried to speak calmly and naturally. “I have been sent here to help report this race for thePhonograph. But what difference does that make?”“A great deal,” answered Watkins; “for I don’t see how we can break through that rule”—here he pointed to the notice above their heads—“even in your case.”“Do you mean to say that, merely because he has become a reporter, you refuse to admit to these grounds the man who was captain of this crew only two weeks ago?” cried Myles, hotly.“That’s about the size of it. If we exclude onereporter we must exclude all. Those, I believe, were your own words. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do, you know, to let friendship interfere with business.”“If I acknowledge that I was a fool when I made that speech, if I tell you that this miserable notice is one of the biggest mistakes you could possibly make, and beg you, for the sake of the college and of the crew, to take it down, won’t you do it?” asked Myles.“No; I don’t think we will. Of course it is natural for you to think that way now. Perhaps I would in your place; but, as I have not the motive that you have to change my opinion of reporters, I rather think we will let the notice remain where it is, and act up to it.”“Then,” replied Myles, whose hot temper was rapidly escaping from his control, “all I have to say is that, in putting up this notice, you made a fool of yourself, and in keeping it up you not only disgrace yourself but the college you represent.”“And in reply to such a very friendly speech I would remark that when a fellow, pretending to be a gentleman, relinquishes those pretensions and becomes a reporter, he has descended to the level for which nature intended him,” retorted Watkins.“If it were not for breaking up the crew on the eve of a great race, I’d make you apologize for those words, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles.“You can’t do it, and you dare not try,” was the mocking answer.Myles had so completely lost control of himself by this time, that he would have answered this taunt by something much more forcible than words, and undoubtedly Ben Watkins would have had cause to regret arousing the wrath of the young athlete before whom the best men in the X—— gymnasium had been unable to stand up; but just then a soft hand was laid on the young reporter’s shoulder, and Billings’ languid voice drawled out:“Let the poor fellow go, Manning. He will hurt himself more than you can hurt him in the long run.”Myles allowed himself to be persuaded, and in another minute the two reporters were driving rapidly back toward the city.“It is too bad,” said Myles, presently, “that your chance of getting a description of the crew, and how they live in training, and of the boat, should be knocked in the head by that fellow’s stupidity.”“Oh, I’ll get all that to-morrow,” was the careless reply.“But they won’t admit you.”“I guess they will, and tell me all I want to know, and show me every thing I want to see. I shouldn’t wonder if they even invited me to go out with them in their boat—and I’ll do it too.”“Whatever can you mean?” asked Myles.“Wait until to-morrow and I’ll show you the trick,” said Billings.
“NO LOAFERS NOR REPORTERS ADMITTED.”
AS THE young reporter entered thePhonographoffice that Monday morning he wondered whether or not his week of trial had been satisfactory. Was he to retain his position, or was he to be politely told that he was a failure, and that the paper had no need of him? The anxiety aroused by the mere thought of such a thing weighed heavily upon him, and he entered the city-room feeling like an accused person when about to hear the verdict that shall either set him free or consign him to a cell. Thus agitated, but setting his teeth and walking bravely forward to meet his fate, Myles was stopped by hearing Mr. Brown say:
“Oh, Mr. Manning, wait a moment, if you please. Here are the keys of a vacant desk and of locker No. 20, that the city editor says you are to have.”
The verdict was rendered, and it was in his favor. He need have no more fears. The week of trial had proved satisfactory to his superior officers, and they had decided that it was safe to place him “under orders.”
“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN IN YOUR CASE.” (Page96.)
“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN IN YOUR CASE.” (Page96.)
“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN IN YOUR CASE.” (Page96.)
“Hurrah for the new reporter and future editor-in-chief of thePhonograph!” he mentally shouted.
To all outward appearance, however, he was as calm as usual, and only the heightened color of his face gave token of his excitement.
Taking the keys from Mr. Brown, and thanking him for them, Myles hung his hat in locker No 20. His locker! Then he found the desk that was to be his, unlocked its empty drawer, opened it, closed it again, and sat down before it to indulge in a daydream of all the fine things he would write at that desk; of the special articles he would prepare, and hide away in that drawer until they should be finished and ready to win for him a name.
These pleasant thoughts were interrupted, and Myles started as a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Rolfe’s cordial voice said:
“Good-morning, Manning. Allow me to congratulate you upon getting a desk. In this office the possession, of a desk is the sign that a man is doing satisfactory work and is lookedupon with favor. If, however, at any time Mr. Brown should politely ask you for the key, you might as well resign at once and look for another job, for you would get no more assignments here. It would be the signal of dismissal. I am not afraid for you, though, and I predict that you will hold the key to your present position until you are ready to resign it of your own accord. By the way, what are you going to make your special line of work? Nearly every reporter, while of course always ready to accept any assignment that is offered, has some specialty in which he excels. Some take to politics, detective work, or court reporting, and some to marine work, such as yacht-racing, wrecks, launches, and all things connected with the sea. Others make a specialty of athletic sports, and still others of society events. My own specialty, so far as I can find out that I have one, is, I believe, humoristical. At least I have the wholly undeserved credit of writing humorous stories.”
“I’m sure I can’t imagine what mine will be,” laughed Myles, who felt particularly joyous just at that moment. “I don’t feel that I know much about any thing, unless it is boats and boat-racing.”
Then he confided to Rolfe his desire to witness the great college boat-race at New London, and asked his advice about applying for the assignment.
“Certainly,” replied the other. “Apply for it by all means. Mr. Haxall likes to find out in that way what the fellows are most interested in, and makes a point of giving a reporter the style of work most congenial to his tastes if he possibly can. His theory is that a fellow will do much better if he is interested in his job than he would if it were distasteful to him. Of course it does not happen one time out of ten that a fellow gets the particular assignment that he would prefer; but that is not Mr. Haxall’s fault, and he is always glad to have the preference expressed.”
Thus encouraged, Myles stepped to the city editor’s desk, and, interrupting for a moment the busy work of clipping memoranda from the morning papers, made his request.
Mr. Haxall listened patiently to all that he had to say, and then smilingly answered:
“I am very sorry, Mr. Manning, but that assignment has already been given to Billings. I have, however, another piece of work for you that, Ibelieve, you will do just as well. It is of the utmost importance, and will, I think, interest you greatly. I wish you would set out at once and obtain every possible detail regarding this case.”
Thus saying the city editor handed Myles a paragraph that he had just clipped from a morning paper, and instantly resumed his interrupted work. Myles’ curiosity had been greatly aroused by these remarks, and he imagined that some really important piece of work was about to be confided to him. What was his disgust, then, upon reading the slip as he slowly returned to his desk, to find that it was only a stabbing affray among the Italians of the “Bend,” one of the filthiest slums of the city!
“It is too bad!” he exclaimed to Rolfe, who was waiting to learn the result of his interview. “The idea of giving me such a wretched job as this, and trying to make me think it was such an important one too.”
“Oh no, it isn’t too bad,” laughed Rolfe. “It is only one of the little jokes that Joe delights in, and he will chuckle over it to himself for an hour. But, really, you know that job has to be done by somebody, and he only gave it, impartially, to the first man who happened along, which was you. It wouldhave been just the same if I had gone to him instead of you. He would have given it to me just as quick. Joe has his failings, of course, like the rest of us, and sometimes I get awfully provoked at him; but I must say that I consider him the most absolutely just man I ever knew, and I believe his constant aim is to show perfect impartiality in all his dealings with those under him. That is more than can be said of most city editors.”
So Myles, somewhat comforted by these words, started for the “Bend,” instead of for New London, and passed the greater part of the long hot day amid such scenes of misery as only a great city can disclose. For the next two days also, it seemed as though all the assignments of this nature fell to him. At their end he was soul-sick of the disgusting work he had been called upon to perform, and the desperate wretchedness amid which he had lived. On the third morning, as he entered the office in a dejected frame of mind, wondering what form of human suffering he would have to encounter that day, Mr. Haxall called him and said:
“I believe, Mr. Manning, that you have had some practical experience in college boat-racing.”
“A little, sir,” answered Myles, modestly.
“Well,” continued the city editor, “while Billings is a most admirable descriptive writer, he is not as familiar as I could wish with the details of timing a crew, noting their form, and so forth. I have decided, therefore, to send you to New London to help him out. The race will not take place until the day after to-morrow, but I think you had better run up there to-day so as to be on hand. You will, of course, report to Billings, and here is an order on the cashier for twenty-five dollars for your expenses. If you need any more, Billings will furnish it.”
Myles had so completely dismissed all thoughts of the boat-race from his mind, that had Mr. Haxall offered him the position of managing editor he could hardly have been more amazed than by this assignment. He was, however, rapidly learning to conceal all signs of surprise upon such occasions, and so, answering, “Very well, sir,” he took the order on the cashier and left the office.
An hour later he was rolling out of the Grand Central station on his way to New London, while the scenes amid which he had passed the preceding two days were already fading beneath the influence of pleasant anticipations.
Arrived at New London, he had no difficulty in finding Billings, who, having secured for his own use the finest apartment in the best hotel in the city, was now the centre of an interested group of reporters gathered behind its closed doors.
“Hello, Manning!” cried the generally languid Billings, who now appeared greatly excited. “Come in. You are just in time to take part in our indignation meeting. What do you think the nice little boys of the X—— College crew have gone and done?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Myles, flushing at the tone in which his recent mates were spoken of. “I don’t believe, though, that it is any thing to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it, though!” cried several voices, while Billings said:
“It is something they ought to be ashamed of if they are not. Why, they actually have had the cheek to put a big sign out in front of their quarters bearing the legend, ‘No Loafers nor Reporters Admitted.’ What do you think of that for impudence, when, if it wasn’t for the press, as represented by us reporters, their little penny races would never be heard of outside of their own little circle of friends?Now, there are plenty of college graduates among us here. We know just how conceited and ‘cocky’ these young fellows feel, and we can make allowances for them, but this is going a little too far. What do you say to it, Manning?”
With face as red as fire, but with a brave, honest look in his eyes, Myles stood up and said:
“I expect I am responsible for this insult, gentlemen, and right here I wish to apologize for it, both on my own account and in behalf of the crew of which I was so recently the captain.”
Here there was a slight movement of surprise among the other reporters, most of whom were strangers to Myles, and they regarded him curiously.
“Yes,” he continued, “I was captain of the X—— College crew, and I suggested that, on coming here this year, we put up some such notice as that of which Billings speaks. I did so in utter ignorance of what sort of fellows the majority of reporters are, and because last year’s crew was greatly bothered by one who made himself a perfect nuisance. He hung about the quarters all the time, patronized the boys, undertook to tell them that their style of rowing was entirely wrong, and tried to have themchange it to suit his ideas. Above all, his reports, as published and widely copied, were so filled with absurdities and falsehoods regarding the crew as made them a laughing-stock for the community. I do not see him here this year, and I am glad of it, but, for fear he would be, I suggested putting up that notice, because we did not know how to exclude one reporter without making a rule that should apply to all. I am sorry now that I ever made such a suggestion, and still more so that my successor has seen fit to carry it out. If you fellows will only have a little patience, and not send any thing to your papers about this matter before my return, I will go out to the quarters and see what influence I can use to have that notice removed.”
“Good enough!” exclaimed Billings. “You have spoken out like a gentleman, Manning, and I think I can answer for every reporter here by saying that we accept your very handsome apology for your share in this unfortunate business. We will also give you the chance you ask for, to exert your influence toward having the thing taken down, before we begin to make it unpleasant for them in the papers; won’t we, fellows?”
“Of course we will,” was the almost unanimous reply.
There was, however, one fellow mean enough to slip unnoticed out of the room and telegraph the whole affair to his paper, laying all the blame upon poor Myles, whom he spoke of as having repented when it was too late. For this act he was afterward kicked off the press-boat by the other reporters, and so lost his chance of seeing the race.
In the meantime Myles and Billings hurried from the hotel, engaged a horse and buggy, crossed the ferry to the Groton side of the river, and drove rapidly up the pleasant country road along its eastern bank to the X—— quarters.
As they drew up in front of the roomy farmhouse that Myles remembered so well, he sprang out and found himself face to face with his old rival, Ben Watkins. Ben, who was now captain of the crew, was walking toward the front gate, above which was displayed the cause of all the trouble.
“How are you, Ben?” said Myles, cordially, as he stepped toward the gate with the intention of entering.
“Ah, Manning, that you?” answered the other ina constrained tone. “Glad to see you—that is,” he added, hesitatingly, “if you come as a friend.”
“As a friend?” questioned Myles in amazement, stopping outside the gate, against which Watkins now leaned in such a manner as to prevent its being opened. “What can you mean? How else could I come to the quarters of the X—— College crew?”
“Oh, well,” replied Watkins, a little uneasily, “I heard you had gone on to some paper, and I didn’t know but what you came as a reporter.”
“So I do come as a reporter, as well as a friend of X——,” replied Myles, whose voice trembled a little, though he tried to speak calmly and naturally. “I have been sent here to help report this race for thePhonograph. But what difference does that make?”
“A great deal,” answered Watkins; “for I don’t see how we can break through that rule”—here he pointed to the notice above their heads—“even in your case.”
“Do you mean to say that, merely because he has become a reporter, you refuse to admit to these grounds the man who was captain of this crew only two weeks ago?” cried Myles, hotly.
“That’s about the size of it. If we exclude onereporter we must exclude all. Those, I believe, were your own words. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t do, you know, to let friendship interfere with business.”
“If I acknowledge that I was a fool when I made that speech, if I tell you that this miserable notice is one of the biggest mistakes you could possibly make, and beg you, for the sake of the college and of the crew, to take it down, won’t you do it?” asked Myles.
“No; I don’t think we will. Of course it is natural for you to think that way now. Perhaps I would in your place; but, as I have not the motive that you have to change my opinion of reporters, I rather think we will let the notice remain where it is, and act up to it.”
“Then,” replied Myles, whose hot temper was rapidly escaping from his control, “all I have to say is that, in putting up this notice, you made a fool of yourself, and in keeping it up you not only disgrace yourself but the college you represent.”
“And in reply to such a very friendly speech I would remark that when a fellow, pretending to be a gentleman, relinquishes those pretensions and becomes a reporter, he has descended to the level for which nature intended him,” retorted Watkins.
“If it were not for breaking up the crew on the eve of a great race, I’d make you apologize for those words, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles.
“You can’t do it, and you dare not try,” was the mocking answer.
Myles had so completely lost control of himself by this time, that he would have answered this taunt by something much more forcible than words, and undoubtedly Ben Watkins would have had cause to regret arousing the wrath of the young athlete before whom the best men in the X—— gymnasium had been unable to stand up; but just then a soft hand was laid on the young reporter’s shoulder, and Billings’ languid voice drawled out:
“Let the poor fellow go, Manning. He will hurt himself more than you can hurt him in the long run.”
Myles allowed himself to be persuaded, and in another minute the two reporters were driving rapidly back toward the city.
“It is too bad,” said Myles, presently, “that your chance of getting a description of the crew, and how they live in training, and of the boat, should be knocked in the head by that fellow’s stupidity.”
“Oh, I’ll get all that to-morrow,” was the careless reply.
“But they won’t admit you.”
“I guess they will, and tell me all I want to know, and show me every thing I want to see. I shouldn’t wonder if they even invited me to go out with them in their boat—and I’ll do it too.”
“Whatever can you mean?” asked Myles.
“Wait until to-morrow and I’ll show you the trick,” said Billings.