CHAPTER XVI
The Bootlegger Repays Jimmy's Kindness
Jimmy delivered his papers to the under secretary and got a receipt forthem. He left the train at Altoona, wired the managing editor a briefstatement of his experiences, then registered at a hotel and went tobed. Utterly worn out by his trying efforts, he slept like a stone anddid not awaken until almost noon the following day. Then he ate somebreakfast, hired a taxi-cab, and drove back to Mingoville. He sought outthe mountaineer who had driven him to Tyrone on the preceding night, andthe two climbed the notch and found the fallen _Travelair_. It was acomplete "washout," but Jimmy found that his camera was not much harmed,and he secured his maps, a compass that was still intact, his parachute,and a few other articles. Then he had the mountaineer drive him back toBellefonte, whence he made his way by train to New York, where hereported at once to the managing editor.
"So you decided to join the Caterpillar Club, did you?" said Mr.Johnson, speaking jestingly but shaking Jimmy warmly by the hand. "I'mmighty glad to see you back, _mighty glad_. I had some real shivers whenI read your telegram saying that your plane had fallen and that you hadhad to jump for your life. And I was more than amazed to learn that,despite your accident, you still succeeded in accomplishing your errand.It must have been a tight squeeze, Jimmy. I want to know how you didit."
Jimmy fished out one of his topographic maps. "I fell right here," hesaid, putting his pencil point on the spot that represented the gapabove Mingoville. "It was great luck. Had I been a mile distant inalmost any direction, I could never have made that train at Tyrone."
"It was a wonderful achievement, Jimmy. I want to hear every particularof the story."
Simply Jimmy related what had happened to him, beginning his tale withthe moment when he felt his plane icing up.
"It's a great story, Jimmy," was the managing editor's only comment."You should have told me about it in your wire last night. I want you totell Handley what you have just told me. It will make a great story forthe _Press_. Of course we must not betray the fact that the undersecretary of war lost some state papers. For the purpose of this taleyou were merely bearing confidential despatches to him from the_Press_."
So it happened that Jimmy once more figured in the news columns. Hedisliked so much publicity. But he understood that this was a greatstory for his particular newspaper to print. The thing that pleased himmost was the fact that he had made good. He had delivered the message toGarcia. Nor was Jimmy at all displeased when he found at the end of theweek that he had been given a nice bonus for his work.
His own ship was ready for flight once more within the period that Jimmyhad designated as the time allowance for the job. But for some timethere was again a dearth of interesting assignments. Meanwhile winterwas succeeded by early spring, the snow disappeared in the region of NewYork, though there was plenty of it left in the far north and would befor weeks to come. Jimmy had the skis on his plane replaced by wheels,for everywhere in the territory that he was likely to cover there wasnow bare ground.
The first break in this new stretch of uninteresting days came whenJimmy was sent to the pine barrens of New Jersey, to take photographs ofa great forest fire that was sweeping through the pines. Jimmy had seenforest fires in Pennsylvania, but nothing like this crown fire that wasroaring through the pine woods in a line twenty-five miles long, layingwaste not only thousands of acres of timber land, but utterly destroyingscores of homes within the forested area.
On another occasion he was sent down the Bay to take photographs of anincoming steamer from Europe that had effected a daring rescue inmid-ocean of the crew of a sinking freighter.
But the assignment that gave Jimmy the greatest thrill he had had in along time was an order to fly to the eastern end of Lake Ontario oncemore, and cover the wreck of a lake steamer. This craft, one of thefirst ships to make its way from its winter harborage through thedisintegrating ice of the lake, had been caught in a terrible gale anddashed on one of the small islands just off Smithville.
Jimmy was atingle with enthusiasm the instant he got word from themanaging editor. It was already well into the evening. Only a flash hadcome--the merest hint of the great story that eventuallyunfolded--saying that the steamer had gone aground on the island. Thestorm had somewhat abated, though it was still blowing hard. But at theLong Island hangar there was small evidence of any disturbance in theair.
"Would it be possible for you to get up there to-night?" asked Mr.Johnson. "Or is it better to wait until morning? If you _could_ reachthe scene to-night, we could almost certainly get something into ourcity edition about the wreck. That goes to press at 3:30 in the morning.But we could hold it, or we could get out an extra. What do you thinkabout it, Jimmy?"
"We ought to be able to do it, Mr. Johnson. Of course, it depends uponwhat the flying is like farther north. But right here the air is quietenough. At the very least, I could fly until I was forced down. Then I'dbe just so much nearer the spot, and could doubtless get there quicklyby motor. The only difficulty is the one of landing. There are no beaconlights to guide me and no illuminated landing fields. A fellow alwaysruns a chance of 'washing out' a ship when he lands in the dark."
"Then you don't think it advisable to attempt the trip to-night?"
"I didn't say that, Mr. Johnson. I'm going to make the trip. But Iwanted you to understand the difficulties. I've been over the route, andI can cover it again without difficulty. The night is clear and there isstarlight enough to illuminate things a little. I know a number ofpeople at Smithville. I'll wire to the postmaster and ask him to burn abucket of gasoline in the field where I landed last winter. I can getdown all right, I'm sure. But the wire facilities are not very good upthere."
"All right. I'll get into touch with the Western Union and see if wecan't get a wire ready for your use. You make whatever arrangements arenecessary and get off as soon as you can. How long should it take you toreach Smithville?"
"Unless I have to fight a stiff wind, I ought to make it in two hoursand a half. It's almost nine now. I ought to get there by midnight atlatest. In two hours more I ought to have a story on the wire for you.We ought to catch the city edition without difficulty."
"Very well, make your arrangements and get off. Have your mechanictelephone me the moment you start."
Jimmy instantly called the Western Union and dictated a telegram to thepostmaster of Smithville, asking him to burn a bucket of gasoline in thebest landing field possible, when Jimmy approached and circled the town.Unless held up by wind, he said, he should be due in two hours and ahalf. Then, without waiting for a reply, Jimmy hopped off as soon as hecould.
Straight up the Hudson flew Jimmy, speeding along at 120 miles an hour,the pace he knew he must make to land him at Smithville within thedesignated time. He had no trouble in following the Hudson to Albany,nor in going up the Mohawk to Rome. His troubles began after he leftthat point and started to follow the railroad to Smithville, for thewind, which had been freshening ever since he left Albany, was nowblowing half a gale. But it was a quartering wind for Jimmy and did notdelay him nearly so much as a head wind would have done. It did make theflight very rough and bumpy. But Jimmy wisely flew at a good altitude,even though the wind was stiffer up high, and in a little more than twohours and a half was approaching Smithville.
He could make out the tossing expanse of the lake. The lights ofSmithville showed him exactly where the village was, and his memory toldhim just where the field should be in which he had once landed. He nosedhis ship downward and started a big swing around the town. Lower andlower he glided, waiting for the expected flare. He was sure his runninglights must be visible from the ground, for the night was stillperfectly clear, though he was not so certain that the roar of his motorcould be heard. The blustering of the wind might drown out the sound. Atany rate, they would be looking for him, and they would see him. So heeased his plane earthward, gliding lower and lower, and waiting for theflare.
Suddenly it came. A burst of flame sprang up, though it was not whereJimmy had expected to see it at all. It lighted up a wide expanse ofland. The place looked wet to Jimmy, but he could not be sure aboutthat. At any rate, it undoubtedly was the best landing place possible.He knew his friends would not pick out any other landing place. So Jimmyshoved his stick over a little more, shut off his engine, and glideddown. He leveled his ship off, let her lose flying speed, and set herdown. Instantly he knew that something was wrong. Water began to fly.His wheels gave forth squdgy, wallowing sounds. In a second his planebogged down. Over she nosed into the soft ground. His propeller was bentalmost double. His under-carriage seemed to give way. His engine plowedinto the mud. His tail was standing high in air.
Fortunately Jimmy had braced himself at the first sound of splashingwater. He was thrown forward, and though his face was somewhat cut andhe suffered several hard bumps, he was not really injured. Instantly hecut his switch and shut off the gas. Then he leaped from the plane tosee what had happened. He found he was in the centre of a great stretchof bog. His plane was hopelessly mired and out of commission for days.
At a distance he saw men with lanterns. He splashed through the swampyground toward them. They came hurrying in his direction. Foremost wasthe village postmaster.
"What in thunder did you make a flare in a swamp for?" demanded Jimmy,mad as hops. "My plane is completely out of commission."
"We did just what you asked us to do," replied the postmaster, somewhattaken aback by Jimmy's fiery greeting.
"What I asked _you_ to do!" said Jimmy. "Why, I asked you to light aflare in the best landing place available. Is that your idea of a goodlanding place for a plane?"
"But in your second telegram you said to put the flare in a swampy placeas you would fly still farther north from here and your ship still woreskis."
"My second telegram! My ship still wore skis! I never sent you anysecond telegram. I never told you I had skis on my ship."
"Well, somebody did. Here's the telegram. It's signed New York _MorningPress_." And the postmaster fished out of his pocket two yellow telegramblanks and thrust them into Jimmy's hand.
"Somebody has played another trick on me," said Jimmy. "But it won't doany good. My ship may be disabled, but I am not. There's still thetelegraph to fall back upon. I can get a message back to New York thatway."
"But you'll need your plane to fly out to the wreck."
"Thunderation!" said Jimmy. "Isn't there a boat to be had?"
"Yes, but it's terribly rough. Nobody around here would go out on thelake in a sea like the one that's running now."
"Well, can I get the story of the wreck here?"
"No. Nobody knows a thing about it except that the ship has piled up onthe nearest island. We can see her with our glasses. But that's all weknow. That's all we had to send to the newspapers."
"Isn't there any boat that can make it out to the island? I'll payanybody well who'll take me out."
"The only fellow who would dare it is that bootlegger who held you up onyour former trip here. He stops at nothing. He's got a boat speciallymade for rough weather."
"Where is he?" asked Jimmy. "Can I get in touch with him?"
"Yes, you can. He's been in town for several days. The lake has been toorough even for him. I'll show you where he hangs out." And thepostmaster tramped off, with Jimmy at his side and a group of villagersfollowing behind them.
They found the rum runner. The man jumped up suspiciously as theyentered the house where he was staying. He glanced from the postmasterto Jimmy and back again. At first he did not know the stranger. Butbefore the postmaster could say a word he remembered Jimmy's face.Instantly he held out his hand.
"Hello, Kid," he said. "I reckon I know what brings you back here. Yougave me a ride across the lake some time ago and I suspect you want onein return? Do I win or lose on that guess?"
"You win," said Jimmy, shaking the fellow's hand. "I want a ride and Iwant it bad."
"You can get it," said the rum runner. "I've been out studying the lakefor the last half hour. The waves is dyin' down fast. I've got a boatthat'll make it easy. Once we get in the lee of the island, there won'tbe nothin' to it--absolutely nothin'."
"How soon can we start?"
"Right off. Come on."
The bootlegger's power boat proved to be a tremendously sturdy craft,with high prow, a deep cabin roofed over, and the tiniest of cockpits inthe stern, where there was also an engine that appeared to be of greatpower. Jimmy and the owner climbed aboard. The latter turned on anelectric light.
"Put this on," he said, handing Jimmy a lifebelt. Then he drew onanother himself.
He started his motor and let it run quietly a few moments to heat up.Then he opened the throttle to test it. The engine answered with a roaras powerful as that of Jimmy's plane. The ship strained at her hawsers.
"Now, Kid, you go inside the cabin and sit down. You're likely to gethurt if you don't. If it gets too rough for you, just lay right down ina bunk. Don't take no chances on breakin' an arm or somethin'."
Jimmy obeyed. The rum runner threw off his lines. He opened histhrottle. The ship left her little harbor. In a moment she was tossingwildly on the waves of the open lake. The owner gave his engine moregas. The craft forged ahead. Jimmy had never had such a ride. Like achip in a whirlpool the little boat was thrown about. Now it leaped highupward. Now it dropped downward with a suggestiveness that almost madeJimmy sick. Now it struck a huge wave, that came crashing back over it,and the impact made the sturdy craft tremble and quiver. But all thetime it bored straight through the sea, its motor roaring, its propellerwhirling wildly as the stern was thrown up out of the water. At times itplunged headlong down the slope of a great wave, only to go crashinginto the following crest. It shook and shivered. It groaned and creaked.But not for one instant did the motor falter or its deep-throated roarsubside.
Almost before he knew it, Jimmy found himself in calmer water. The boatstill rose and fell. It still rocked and swayed. But there was aperceptible difference in its motions. They were less violent. The seawas not so turbulent. The craft wallowed less in the waves. And thefarther they went the smoother their passage continued to grow.
Jimmy rightly guessed that the boat was in the lee of the island. Itwas, in fact, driving into a little cove or bay, well protected, on theleeward side of the island. When Jimmy looked out and saw land to rightand left of him he was amazed. They had made the trip to the island inastonishingly little time. Despite wind and wave, the rum runner'spowerful boat had crossed the three miles of water with great speed. Nowthe craft ran swiftly up the little bay and slid to a grating stop at alittle landing at the very end of the cove.
"Come on," said the rum runner, making his boat fast. "I'll take youover to the wreck."
Rapidly he led the way across the island, which just here was hardly amile wide. Then the two made their way out to the end of a long point ofland, on the tip of which lay the stranded vessel. It was driven far upon the sands. Only a few hundred feet of water separated it from theshore. But those few hundred feet were frightful to behold. On thiswindward side of the island the sea was terrible. Huge waves cameroaring in from the open lake, to crash against the helpless ship and gothundering completely over it. Jimmy looked at the scene with an awethat bordered on terror. Never before had he beheld such an exhibitionof the fury of wind and wave.
Near by was a cottage. Lights still shone in the windows.
"The folks in that house ought to be able to tell us something about thewreck," shouted Jimmy to his companion. "Let's go talk to them."
They walked to the cottage and knocked at the door. It was openedpromptly and they stepped inside. A great fire was blazing in thehearth. Before it sat a man half dressed. Articles of clothing werehanging before the blaze. The man seemed distressed.
Jimmy introduced himself to the cottager. The man recalled him at onceas the flier who had brought help from the city during the winter.
"What brings you here
now? Is there anything I can do for you?" askedthe islander.
"I came to get the story of this stranded vessel. Perhaps you can tellme something about it."
"I can," said the cottager, "but this man can tell you far more. He isthe mate of the ship. He was swept overboard and was all but drownedbefore we got him ashore. He can tell you everything."
Jimmy sat down and began to talk to him. Reluctantly at first, theneagerly as he found relief in conversation, the man related his story:how the ship had put out from port at the first possible moment with acargo of freight and a considerable passenger list; how progress hadbeen incredibly slow because of the heavy ice; how the storm had caughtthem only a few miles off shore; how the steamer's propeller had beenbroken by ice; and how she had then drifted helplessly before the wind,finally to crash on the beach before them, with the loss of many lives,and the probable loss of many more. For it was impossible to get to theship with the sea as it was, and the vessel was breaking up. It was onlya question of hours until it would go to pieces. Of all those washedoverboard--probably a score or more--the mate was the only one who hadreached the shore alive.
For an hour Jimmy talked with the downcast sailor. He plied the man witha hundred questions. He got every detail of the trip, from the start tothe present moment. And he secured many names of passengers and crew.Then thanking the sailor and the cottager, he took his leave,accompanied by his rum-running friend.
"Have you got all the facts you want?" asked the latter.
"I've got all I have time to get now. I must put what I have on thewire. Later I can get more details and in the morning some pictures."
They hurried to the boat, boarded it, and crossed to the mainland,running before wind and wave. Their speed amazed Jimmy. They made thecrossing in no time at all. Jimmy rushed to the telegraph office, whichhe found open and waiting for him, with an extra operator who had beenordered on duty especially to forward Jimmy's story. Jimmy wrote a fewlines and handed them to the operator. Then, with the telegraph keyclicking in his ear, he wrote and wrote, tearing off sheet after sheetfrom his pad and handing each sheet to the operator as fast as it waswritten. When he laid the last sheet before the operator he glanced atthe clock. It was half past two. Jimmy smiled with happiness. He had"caught" the city edition.
As Jimmy and his new friend came out of the telegraph office they heardthe hum of a plane overhead. Down came a ship, circling, and settlingcautiously lower. Then it dropped a flare, turned its landing lights on,and glided safely to earth in a big field. Two men got out of it--thepilot and a passenger. They hurried over to Jimmy and the rum runner. Inthe dark Jimmy did not recognize them.
"Is there any way we can get to the island, where that ship is wrecked?"demanded one of them. "We'll pay well to get there."
Jimmy bristled with anger as he heard the voice. It was Rand's. Jimmy'srum-running friend turned to him. "What about it? Shall I take themover?"
"Not if you're a friend of mine," said Jimmy. "This fellow is my worstenemy. He has played me no end of dirty tricks, and I think he played meone this very night."
"Then I don't take him," said the bootlegger. "Let him get to the islandthe best way he can."
They turned away from the newcomers. Rand was swearing furiously. ButJimmy paid no attention to him and presently was beyond the sound of hisvoice. Briefly he told his friend of the difficulties he had had withRand. "I'm just as sure as I can be that now I know who sent that secondtelegram here that pulled me down in the bog and put my ship out ofcommission. I don't know what I am going to do, for I had expected tofly out to the ship and get some photographs at sunrise and then rushthem to New York. The local correspondents can finish up the story."
"Don't you worry about no pictures," said the rum runner. "I got myairplane all fixed up--new motor and everything. She's right at hand,and come daybreak we'll go git them pictures and then start for NewYork. I got business down that way and I'll be glad to make the trip.You done me a fine service once and I ain't never goin' to forget it."
CHAPTER XVII
Jimmy Triumphs Over Rand
When Jimmy and his lawless friend from the border reached New York latethe next morning with the first photographs of the wreck to arrive inthat city and with some additional facts about the wreck, the rum runnerwanted to say good-bye at once, but Jimmy would not consent to this. Heinsisted that they go see the managing editor. Finally the bootlegger,whose name was LaRoche, agreed, and early that afternoon the two metagain at the _Morning Press_ building. They were at once admitted to themanaging editor's office.
"Well, Jimmy, you seem to have had another interesting adventure," saidMr. Johnson, as he welcomed his subordinate. "I'm mighty glad you gotout of it safe and sound."
Jimmy introduced LaRoche to Mr. Johnson, then said: "You speak of myhaving another adventure, Mr. Johnson. What do you refer to?"
"Why, to your trip out to the island through the storm last night. Ijudge that was an experience you won't soon forget."
"For me it was an adventure," said Jimmy, "though to Mr. LaRoche it wasa very ordinary experience, I judge. I shall not soon forget it. Norshall I forget the other adventure I had."
"The other adventure! You speak in riddles, Jimmy."
Jimmy told his chief about the beacon in the bog, about his landing in aswamp and being hopelessly disabled, and about the two telegramsreceived by the postmaster of Smithville.
While Jimmy was talking he could not fail to notice the countenance ofhis chief. The most extraordinary expressions followed one another onthe managing editor's face. Interest, amazement, concern, and finally anexpression of angry determination were all momentarily portrayed on Mr.Johnson's expressive countenance.
"Now I understand everything," said he.
Jimmy waited for enlightenment.
"While you have been gathering a story of heroism and death in thenorth," said the managing editor, "I have been picking up one ofcowardice and treachery here in New York. I didn't fully understand whatit all meant until I heard what you have just told me. Now I comprehendit all. Your story and mine make a beautiful mosaic. They dovetailtogether into a completed tale. Would you like to hear _my_ end of thattale?"
Jimmy was all eagerness. "I can't imagine what you have in mind," saidJimmy, "but of course I want to hear about it."
"Very well, here it is. Your friend, Mr. LaRoche, will be interested,too. He has had some small part in the story, too."
Both the managing editor's hearers looked their astonishment.
"When you set out for Smithville last night, Jimmy," began the managingeditor, "we did everything we could possibly do at this end to make yourflight both safe and successful. I sent you reluctantly. I knew flyingconditions could not be any too good in a region where a great steamerhad just been blown ashore. The fact is, I was a littleconscience-smitten, I guess. Your narrow escape at Mingoville has beenconstantly in my mind. But I allowed you to go--yes, I even urged you togo--and after you had taken off I began to worry about you and so Iquite naturally left nothing undone to insure the safety of your trip."
Both Jimmy and his companion were completely mystified. They sat insilent expectation, waiting for what was to follow.
"First of all," continued Mr. Johnson, "I sent Johnnie Lee over to yourhangar. There was nothing in particular for him to do except to be therein case you should send back any radio messages as you flew. You see, Ihave learned about your Wireless Patrol and how skilful all you boys arewith the wireless. So it occurred to me that Johnnie might be able tohandle a radio conversation better than almost anybody else on thestaff. Johnnie went over to the flying field immediately."
The managing editor paused as though to arrange his thoughts. After amoment he continued. "Johnnie seems to be very wide awake. He evidentlynosed around the field and soon learned that the _Despatch_ man washaving trouble to get his plane into the air. The _Despatch_ no doubtreceived the flash about the wreck of the lake steamer at t
he same timewe got it. Its plane should have taken the air as quickly as you gotaloft with our ship, Jimmy. But something went wrong with it. An hourafter you had departed, the pilot and his mechanics were still workingdesperately to get the ship into shape to fly. Johnnie didn't know whatwas wrong, and of course he didn't make inquiries in a rival's hangar.But he did discover that the reporter who was to be flown in the planewas the fellow he had seen at the coal mine disaster at Krebs. He knewthat the fellow had played you some dirty tricks, and he decided hewould keep an eye on him."
"You bet Johnnie would," interrupted Jimmy. "He's a real friend."
"Well," continued the managing editor, "this chap Johnnie was watching.Rand presently went to the office in his hangar. Johnnie strolled overthat way and peeped in. Rand was standing by a closet in the rear of theoffice. The door was open only part way, but Johnnie could see that Randwas talking into a telephone receiver that stood on a shelf in thiscloset. This seemed queer to Johnnie, because there on the desk was theregular instrument. Johnnie tiptoed close to a window, which was open acrack for ventilation. He was in the dark and could not be seen. Heheard Rand say something about 'skis on a plane' and 'flying farthernorth from there.' Johnnie of course couldn't make anything out of that,and quite naturally he never connected the message with your flight."
Jimmy drew a long breath. "I understand the whole story now," he said.
"Not quite, Jimmy. Let me go on. Rand got off eventually and the forceat Rand's hangar went home. Johnnie came back to our hangar. But therewasn't a thing to do, aside from making frequent inquiries at the radiooffice, and he got to wondering about that queer telephone he had seenRand use. So he picked up a flash-light, slipped into Rand's office,which was unlocked, and went to the closet. It was locked. Johnnie hadhis keys and with one of them was able after a little effort to unlockthe closet. There was the telephone, on a separate wire, which came upthrough the floor. You know how ramshackle those hangars are. Well,Johnnie was able to trace that wire. And where do you think it ran?"
"I don't know," said Jimmy.
"It was spliced to our own telephone wire. In short, Rand had tapped thewire in our hangar, so he could overhear our conversations."
"Quite evident," said Jimmy. "But what I don't understand is why Randwas _tallying_ on our wire. That would give him away, sure."
"I couldn't have understood it either, had it not been that I hadoccasion to talk to a Western Union man. I had already arranged to havethe wire at Smithville opened for you, Jimmy, but about three hoursafter you took off I had to call the telegraph people again. And it wasonly by the merest chance that the matter was mentioned then. The fellowI was talking with remarked that he had just come down from Canada andthat unless my reporter was going pretty far north, he would havetrouble landing on skis. I didn't know what he meant. That brought outthe fact that a second telegram had been sent about the matter of alanding ground at Smithville. I knew you had no skis on your plane nowand I said there must be a mistake about the message. The telegraphofficial assured me that you had sent a second message from Long Island.When I checked up on the time the message was sent, I saw right awaywhat had happened. Some one had sent a message in your name. We tracedthe call and it came over our wire."
The managing editor paused. "Please go on," said Jimmy, who was sittingtensely on the edge of his chair.
"Well, I got in touch with Johnnie over at the field. He had justferreted out the secret telephone wire. It was easy enough then to puttwo and two together. But the thing that worried me was the plight youwere in, Jimmy. I knew that unless you had had a mishap on the way, youwere already at Smithville. Whatever was to happen had already happened.I got a connection on the telephone with the postmaster up there--thefellow you said you knew--and he said you had gone out on the lake withMr. LaRoche here, and that nobody in the town expected to see you comeback alive. So you can understand how anxious I was and how tremendouslypleased I was when your story began to come in. By the way, Jimmy, whatabout your plane? What is to be done about it?"
"Oh, I have already arranged about that. The plane isn't really hurtany. The propeller is gone, and maybe the undercarriage is damaged some.But the ship itself is all right. I left directions for the plane to bepulled out on firm land and cleaned thoroughly. They are to wire me assoon as this is done and tell me if anything is needed. Then I shall goup there with my mechanic and put on a new prop and make any otherrepairs necessary. I don't think the job will amount to much."
"You were mighty lucky, Jimmy, and we were all tremendously relievedwhen we found you were safe. Of course we are pleased about the story.We scooped the town, as I suppose you already know. But that was a smallmatter alongside of your safety."
"What I want to know," said Jimmy, trying to change the subject, "iswhat to do about Rand. He is a poor loser. Every time I beat him hetries some underhand work. What am I to do about it? I could beat himup, and I once threatened to do it; but that would not stop him fromattempting these dirty tricks."
"Jimmy," said Mr. Johnson, "you are not to do anything about Rand. Iwill attend to that. In fact, I have already attended to it. Here is aletter I have written to him. In it I have told him that we haveabsolute proof of his dirty work that might well have cost you your lifeat Smithville. What he did will without doubt constitute a crime in theeyes of the law. I have told him as much. I have also told him thatunless he resigns from the _Despatch_, gets out of newspaper workentirely, and promises never again to attempt in any way to interferewith you, I shall hale him into court and stop at nothing until I seehim behind prison bars."
"Do you think he will resign?"
"Jimmy, if this case ever went to court, and we spread on the recordsall we know, not only about this case but about other dastardly thingshe has done, Rand would be so discredited that no editor would everagain hire him, and he might find it difficult to get a job of any sortwhatever. I'm mightily mistaken about Rand if he doesn't quit cold whenhe gets my letter. But if he doesn't, I shall proceed against him atonce."
Jimmy left the office both happy and sorry. He was glad he was to befree from the competition of such a man as Rand. He was sorry thatthrough him misfortune came upon another--even Rand. He said as much toLaRoche.
"Forget, Kid," replied the rum runner. "You're a square shooter clearthrough. Otherwise I wouldn't never have had nothin' to do with you. Butthis other fellow is only a rattlesnake. You hadn't nothing to do withhis downfall. He brought that on himself. And if it hadn't come now,through you, it would have come later through some one else."
Jimmy walked with LaRoche to the latter's headquarters in a toughriverfront hotel. "You've been a real friend to me," he said. "Iappreciate it, I don't know how to thank you."
"I don't want no thanks. You've been my friend. Don't you suppose I likethe friendship of a kid as white as you are? When you get in troubleagain, let me know. You can always count on Henri LaRoche."
The rum runner held out his hand. Jimmy shook it warmly. "Good-bye andgood luck to you," he said.
At the end of the week Jimmy sauntered into the office to get his pay.There was a notice conspicuously posted on the bulletin board. Hestopped to read it. Then a great smile came over his countenance, forthis is what he read:
Staff Promotions
Johnnie Lee and Jimmy Donnelly, for excellent work in connection with the coverage of the steamship disaster in Lake Ontario, will each receive a bonus of $50, together with an increase in salary, same to be effective at once.
Tom Johnson Managing Editor.
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