going to put every faculty I own on to making 'The
Opp Eagle' a fine paper. I expect to get here at seven o'clock A.M., and
continue to pursue my work as far into the midnight hours as may need
be. Nothing in the way of pleasure or anything else is going to pervert
my attention. Of course you understand that my mind will be taken up
with the larger issues of things, and I'll have to risk a dependence on
you to attend to the smaller details."

"All right," said Nick, gratefully; "you won't be sorry you trusted me,
Mr. Opp. I'll do my level best. When will we get out the first issue?"

"Well--er--the truth is," said Mr. Opp, "I haven't, as you might say,
accumulated sufficient of material as yet. You see, I have a great many
irons in the fire, and besides opening up this office, I am the
president of a company that's just bought up twenty acres of ground
around here. The biggest oil proposition--"

"Yes, sir," interrupted Nick; "but don't you think we could get started
in two weeks, with the ads and the contributors' letters from other
counties, and a story or two I could run in, and your editorial page?"

"I've got two advertisements," said Mr. Opp; "but I don't intend to rest
content until every man in the Cove has got a card in. Now, about these
contributors from other counties?"

"I can manage that," said Nick. "I'll write to some girl or fellow I
know in the different towns, and ask them to give me a weekly letter.
They sign themselves 'Gipsy' or 'Fairy' or 'Big Injun' or something
like that, and tell what's doing in their neighborhood. We'll have to
fix the letters up some, but they help fill in like everything."

Mr. Opp's spirits rose at this capable cooeperation.

"You--er--like the name?" he asked.

"'The Opp Eagle'?" said Nick. "Bully!"

Such unqualified approval went to Mr. Opp's head, and he rashly broke
through the dignity that should hedge about an editor.

"I don't mind reading you some of my editorial," he said urbanely; "it's
the result of considerable labor."

He opened the drawer and took out some loosely written pages, though he
knew each paragraph by heart. Squaring himself in his revolving-chair,
and clearing his throat, he addressed himself ostensibly to the
cadaverous youth stretched at length before him, but in imagination to
all the southern counties of the grand old Commonwealth of Kentucky.

His various business experiences had stored such an assorted lot of
information in his br