assive theretofore but who was absorbed in mechanics. "I'll be tickled
to have an engine run by sunshine."

The Weather Forecaster looked around with a smile at the enthusiastic
group.

"It seems to me," he said, "that with an official photographer, an
official wind-measurer, an official sunshine recorder, an official
wireless station, a club-house and an editor with an official
publication, 'The Mississippi League of the Weather' is mighty well
launched on its way.

"Now, I'm going to have the fun of making the first motion. I move you,
Mr. Chairman, that the League come into the house and hold its first
official feast!"

CHAPTER IV

THE MASSACRE OF AN ARMY

"Where's the boss?" queried a strange voice, one afternoon.

The entire mechanical staff of the _Issaquena County Weather Herald_,
consisting of Fred Lang, publisher and editor-in-chief, aged fifteen,
and a general assistant with the blackest face and the whitest teeth in
the county, aged seventy, named Dan'l, turned at the question.

"Why?" asked Fred.

The stranger stepped into the office of the _Herald_.

"I'd be wishful to see the foreman," he said, with a twinkle in his eye,
"that's if he's not too busy."

Fred grinned in response.

"I guess I'm the foreman," he said.

"I'm lookin' for a job," the new-comer explained.

"What kind of a job?"

"Any kind of a job in a printin' shop," the Irishman replied. "I'm an
old-timer. There's nothin' about printin' I don't know."

"Have you seen a copy of our paper?" asked Fred.

"I have so," was the reply, "I've got it with me, right here." He pulled
from his pocket the latest number of the little four-page sheet. "'Tis
an illigant publication," he went on, "but I'm thinkin' that you're in
sore need of a printer."

"Does it look so bad?" queried the "foreman." "The worst of it is, I
don't know how to make it any better."

"I'm not saying that it's bad, but there's a deal to be learnt about
printin'," the journeyman declared. "I'm thinkin' your compositor hasn't
had overmuch experience."

"He hasn't," the boy admitted. "I'm him. Dan'l helps me all he can, but
since he can't read, it makes it bad."

"Give me the job," said the Irishman, "an' I'll make the paper look
right."

"I can't," Fred replied. "The subscriptions hardly pay for the paper and
the ink. I give Dan'l thirty cents a week for wages to run the press and
it's hard to scrape up that much, because Mr. Levin says I mustn't pay