can and get beaten as little as possible. By the way, Jolter,
I want to see you a minute," and the mournful delegation of three, no
whit less mournful because they had been assured that they would not
be held accountable for being scooped, filed out.

"What's the connection," demanded Bobby, the minute they were alone,
"between the police department and Sam Stone?"

"Money!" replied Jolter. "Chief of Police Cooley is in reality chief
collector. The police graft is one of the richest Stone has. The
rake-off from saloons that are supposed to close at one and from
crooked gambling joints and illegal resorts of various kinds, amounts,
I suppose, to not less than ten to fifteen thousand dollars a week. Of
course, the patrolmen get some, but the bulk of it goes to Cooley, who
was appointed by Stone, and the biggest slice of all goes to the
Boss."

"Go after Cooley," said Bobby. Then suddenly he struck his fist upon
the desk. "Great Heavens, man!" he exclaimed. "At the end of every
avenue and street and alley that I turn down with the _Bulletin_ I
find an open sewer."

"The town is pretty well supplied," admitted Jolter. "How do you feel
now about your policy?"

"Pretty well staggered," confessed Bobby; "but we're going through
with the thing just the same."

"It's a man's-size job," declared Jolter; "but if you get away with it
the _Bulletin_ will be the best-paying piece of newspaper property
west of New York."

"Not the way the advertising's going," said Bobby, shaking his head
and consulting a list on his desk. "Where has Stone a hold on the
dry-goods firm of Rolands and Crawford?"

"They built out circular show-windows, all around their big block, and
these extend illegally upon two feet of the sidewalk."

"And how about the Ebony Jewel Coal Company?"

"They have been practically allowed to close up Second Street, from
Water to Canal, for a dump."

Bobby sighed hopelessly.

"We can't fight everybody in town," he complained.

"Yes, but we can!" exclaimed Jolter with a sudden fire that surprised
Bobby, since it was the first the managing editor displayed. "Don't
weaken, Burnit! I'm with you in this thing, heart and soul! If we can
hold out until next election we will sweep everything before us."

"We will hold out!" declared Bobby.

"I am so sure of it that I'll stand treat," assented Mr. Jolter with
vast enthusiasm, and over an old oak table, in a quiet place, Mr.
Jolter and Mr. Burnit, having found th