Helen in the Editor's Chair

  CHAPTER V _Reporting Plus_

  Clouds which followed the terrific wind unleashed their burden and a graycurtain of rain swept down from the heavens.

  "Get your slickers," Doctor Stevens called to the girls and Helen racedacross the street for her coat and a storm hat.

  "Better put on those heavy, high-topped boots you use for hiking," Tomadvised Helen when they had reached the shelter of their own home."You'll probably be gone the rest of the afternoon and you'll need theboots."

  Helen nodded her agreement and rummaged through the down stairs closetfor the sturdy boots. She dragged them out and untangled the laces. Thenshe kicked off her oxfords and started to slide her feet into the boots.Her mother stopped her.

  "Put on these woolen stockings," she said. "Those light silk ones willwear through in an hour and your heels will be chafed raw."

  With heavy stockings and boots on, Helen slipped into the slicker whichTom held for her. She put on her old felt hat just as Doctor Stevens' carhonked.

  "Bye, Mother," she cried. "Don't worry. I'll be all right with the doctorand Margaret."

  "Get all the news," cautioned Tom as Helen ran through the storm andclimbed into the doctor's sedan.

  Margaret Stevens was also wearing heavy shoes and a slicker while thedoctor had put on knee length rubber boots and a heavy ulster.

  "We'll get plenty of rain before we're back," he told the girls, "andwe'll have to walk where the roads are impassable."

  They stopped down town and Doctor Stevens ran into his office to see ifany calls had been left for him. When he returned his face was grave.

  "What's the matter?" asked Margaret.

  "I called the telephone office," replied her father, "and they said allthe phone wires west of the lake were down but that reports were a numberof farm houses had been destroyed by the tornado."

  "Then you think someone may have been hurt?" asked Helen.

  "I'm afraid so," admitted Doctor Stevens as he shifted gears and thesedan leaped ahead through the storm. "We'll have to trust to luck thatwe'll reach farms where the worst damage occurred."

  The wind was still of nearly gale force and the blasts of rain whichswept the graveled highway rocked the sedan. There was littleconversation as they left Rolfe and headed into the hill country whichmarked the western valley of Lake Dubar.

  The road wound through the hills and Doctor Stevens, unable to see morethan fifty feet ahead, drove cautiously.

  "Keep a close watch on each side," he told the girls, "and when you seeany signs of unusual damage let me know."

  They were nearly three miles from Rolfe when Margaret told her father tostop.

  "There's a lane to our right that is blocked with fallen tree trunks,"she said.

  Doctor Stevens peered through the rain. A mail box leered up at them froma twisted post.

  "This is Herb Lauer's place," he said. "I'll get out and go up the lane."

  The doctor picked up his medical case and left the motor running so theheat it generated would keep ignition wires dry.

  One window was left open to guard against the car filling with gas andthe girls followed him into the storm. They picked their way slowly overthe fallen trees which choked the lane. When they finally reached thefarmyard a desolate scene greeted them.

  The tornado, like a playful giant, had picked up the one story framehouse and dashed it against the barn. Both buildings had splintered in athousand pieces and only a huddled mass of wreckage remained.Miraculously, the corn crib had been left almost unharmed and inside thecrib they could see someone moving.

  Doctor Stevens shouted and a few seconds later there came an answeringcry. The girls followed him to the crib and found the family of HerbLauer sheltered there.

  "Anyone hurt?" asked Doctor Stevens.

  "Herb's injured his arm," said Mrs. Lauer, who was holding their twoyoung children close to her.

  "Think it's broken, Doc," said the farmer.

  "Broken is right," said Doctor Stevens as he examined the injury. "I'llfix up a temporary splint and in the morning you can come down and haveit redressed."

  The doctor worked quickly and when he was ready to put on the splint hadMargaret and Helen help him. In twenty minutes the arm had been dressedand put in a sling.

  "We'll send help out as soon as we can," said Doctor Stevens as theyturned to go.

  Helen had used the time to good advantage, making a survey of the damagedone to the farm buildings and learning that they were fully protected byinsurance. Mrs. Lauer, between attempts to quiet the crying of thechildren, had given Helen an eye-witness account of the storm and howthey had taken refuge in the corn crib just before the house was swirledfrom its foundations.

  Back in the car, the trio continued their relief trip. The rain abatedand a little after four o'clock the sun broke through the clouds. Ditchesalong the road ran bankful with water and streams they crossed tore atthe embankments which confined them.

  "The worst is over," said Doctor Stevens, "and we can be mighty thankfulno one has been killed."

  Fifteen minutes later they reached another farm which had felt theeffects of the storm. The house had been unroofed but the family hadtaken refuge in the storm cellar. No one had been injured, except for afew bruises and minor scratches.

  At dusk they were fifteen miles west of Rolfe and had failed to findanyone with serious injury.

  "We've about reached the limit of the storm area," said Doctor Stevens."We'll turn now and start back for Rolfe on the Windham road."

  Their route back led them over a winding road and before they left themain graveled highway Doctor Stevens put chains on his car. They ploughedinto the mud, which sloshed up on the sides of the machine and splatteredagainst the windshield until they had to stop and clean the glass.

  Half way back to Rolfe they were stopped by a lantern waving in the road.

  Doctor Stevens leaned out the window.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  A farmer stepped out of the night into the rays of the lights of the car.

  "We need help," he cried. "The storm destroyed our house and one of myboys was pretty badly hurt. We've got to get him to a doctor."

  "I'm Doctor Stevens of Rolfe," said Margaret's father as he picked up hiscase and opened the door.

  "We need you doctor," said the farmer.

  Helen and Margaret followed them down the road and into a grassy lane.

  Lights were flickering ahead and when they reached a cattle shed theyfound a wood fire burning. Around the blaze were the members of thefarmer's family and at one side of the fire was the blanket-swathed formof a boy of ten or eleven.

  "One of the timbers from the house struck him while he was running forthe storm cave," explained the farmer. "He just crumpled up and hasn'tspoken to us since. It's as though he was asleep."

  Doctor Stevens examined the boy.

  "He got a pretty nasty rap on the head," he said. "What he needs is agood bed, some warm clothes and hot food. We'll put him in my car andtake him back to Rolfe. He'll be all right in two or three days."

  The doctor looked about him.

  "This is the Rigg Jensen place, isn't it?" he asked.

  "I'm Rigg Jensen," said the farmer. "You fixed me up about ten years agowhen my shotgun went off and took off one of my little toes."

  "I remember that," said Doctor Stevens. "Now, if you'll help me carry thelad, we'll get him down to the car."

  "Hadn't I better go?" asked Mrs. Jensen. "Eddie may be scared if he wakesup and sees only strangers."

  "Good idea," said Doctor Stevens, as they picked up the boy and startedfor the car.

  Helen went ahead, carrying the lantern and lighting the way for the men.They made the boy comfortable in the back seat and his mother got inbeside him.

  "Better come along," Doctor Stevens told the father.

  "Not tonight," was the reply. "Mother is with Eddie and I know he'll beall right now. I've got to take
the lantern and see what happened to thelivestock and what we've got left."

  There was no complaint in his voice, only a matter-of-factness whichindicated that the storm could not have been prevented and now that itwas all over he was going to make the best of it.

  Half an hour later they reached the gravel highway and sped into Rolfe.Doctor Stevens drove directly to his office and several men on the streethelped him carry Eddie Jensen inside.

  "You'd better run along home," he told the girls, "and get something toeat."

  When Helen reached home, Tom was waiting on the porch.

  "Get a story?" he asked.

  The young editor of the _Herald_ nodded.

  "Anyone hurt?" Tom insisted.

  "No one seriously injured," replied Helen, "but a lot of farm buildingswere destroyed."

  "I've been checking up on the damage down the lake," said Tom, "that newsummer resort on the east shore got the worst of it. The phone officefinally got through and they estimate the damage at the resort at about$50,000."

  "Doctor Stevens believes the damage along the west half of the valleywill amount to almost a $100,000," said Helen.

  "That's a real story," enthused Tom. "It's big enough to telephone to thestate bureau of the Associated Press at Cranston. They'll be glad to payus for sending it to them."

  "You telephone," said Helen. "I'd be scared to death and wouldn't be ableto give them all the facts."

  "You're the editor," replied Tom. "It's your story and you ought to dothe phoning. Jot down some notes while I get a connection to Cranston."

  Tom went into the house to put in the long distance call just as Helen'smother hurried across from the Stevens home.

  "Are you all right, dear?" her mother asked.

  "Not even wet," replied Helen. "The coat and boots protected me even inthe heaviest rain. Tom's just gone inside to call the Associated Press atCranston and I'm going to tell them about the storm."

  "Hurry up there," came Tom's voice from inside the house. "The Cranstonoperator has just answered."

  "And I haven't had time to think what I'll say," added Helen, half toherself.

  Without stopping to take off her cumbersome raincoat, she hurried to thetelephone stand in the dining room and Tom turned the instrument over toher.

  "All ready," he said.

  Helen picked up the telephone and heard a voice at the other end of thewire saying, "This is the state bureau of the Associated Press atCranston. Who's calling?"

  Mustering up her courage, Helen replied, "this is Helen Blair, editor ofthe _Rolfe Herald_. We've had a tornado near here this afternoon and Ithought you'd want the facts."

  "Glad to have them," came the peppy voice back over the wire. "Let's go."

  Helen forgot her early misgivings and briefly and concisely told herstory about the storm, giving estimates of damage and the names of theinjured. In three minutes she was through.

  "Fine story," said the Associated Press man at Cranston. "We'll mail youa check the first of the month. And say, you'd better write to us. We canuse a live, wide-awake correspondent in your town."

  "Thanks, I will," replied Helen as she hung up the receiver.

  "What did he say?" asked Tom.

  "He told me to write them; that they could use a correspondent at Rolfe."

  "That's great," exclaimed Tom. "One more way in which we can increase ourincome and it means that some day you may be able to get a job with theAssociated Press."

  "That will have to come later," said Helen's mother, "when school daysare over."

  "Sure, I know," said Tom, "but creating a good impression won't hurtanything."

  Mrs. Blair had a hot supper waiting, hamburger cakes, baking powderbiscuits with honey, and tea, and they all sat down to the table for abelated evening meal.

  Helen related the events of her trip with Doctor Stevens and Tom grewenthusiastic again over the story.

  "It's the biggest news the _Herald_ has had in years. If we were puttingout a daily we'd be working on an extra now. Maybe the _Herald_ will be adaily some day."

  "Rolfe will have to grow a lot," smiled his mother.

  "I guess you're right," agreed Tom.

  Tom and Helen helped their mother clear away the supper dishes and afterthat Helen went into the front room and cleared the Sunday papers off thelibrary table. She found some copypaper and a pencil in the drawer andsat down to work on her story of the storm.

  The excitement of the storm and the ensuing events had carried her along,oblivious of the fatigue which had increased with the passing hours. Butwhen she picked up her pencil and tried to write, her eyes dimmed and herhead nodded. She snuggled her head in her arms to rest for just a minute,she told herself. The next thing she knew Tom was shaking her shoulders.

  "Ten o'clock," he said, "and time for all editors to be in bed."

  Helen tried to rub the sleep from her eyes and Tom laughed uproariouslyat her efforts.

  "It's no use," he said. "You're all tired out. You can write your storyin the morning. To bed you go."

  "Have I been asleep all evening?" Helen asked her mother.

  "Yes, dear," was the reply, "and I think Tom's right. Run along to bedand you'll feel more like working on your story in the morning."

  Goodnights were said and Helen, only half awake, went to her room, thusending the most exciting day in her young life.