u money enough to induce anybody to print
your publication?"

"Oh, I have a printer," replied Paul confidently. "The _Echo_ is going
to get it out for us."

"The _Echo_!" Mr. Cameron regarded the lad incredulously.

"Yes, sir."

"But--but--how in the name of goodness did you pull off a bargain like
that?" demanded the man. "The _Echo_ of all people! Why, I should as
soon think of asking the government to do it! Their rates are enormous
and they never take outside work. Are you quite sure they have agreed to
do it?"

"Yes. There's no mistake about it, Dad. They were perfectly serious.
They made a few conditions, though."

"Whom did you see?"

"Mr. Carter."

"Carter! Mr. Carter himself? Mr. Arthur Carter?"

"Yes."

"My soul and body!" murmured Mr. Cameron. "I wouldn't have believed he'd
see you. You did have a nerve, son! Why, nobody ever asks a favor of
Carter. I wouldn't, for a thousand dollars. It's a marvel he listened to
you. And he is actually going to print your paper?"

"Yes, sir--that is, under certain conditions." Paul waited an instant,
then added dryly: "In fact, Dad, you're one of the conditions."

"I!"

The boy chuckled.

"Uh-huh. He wants you to subscribe to the _Echo_."

"He does, does he!" Mr. Cameron cried with indignation. "The
impertinence of the man! Well, he can continue to want me to. When he
finds me doing it he will be years older than he is now. What does he
think? Does he expect to turn me from a broad-minded Democrat into a
stand-pat Republican like himself? The old fox! He just enjoyed sending
me that message, and by my own son, too. I ran against him for Mayor in
1916 and lost the fight because I wouldn't use the weapons he did. You
were a little chap then and so do not remember much about it; but it was
a nasty business. Since that day we've never spoken. Take his paper! I
wouldn't so much as look at it if he offered it to me free of charge on
a silver salver."

Paul regarded his father with consternation.

"But I say, Dad, if you don't help us out, it's all up with the _March
Hare_."

"I can't help that," blustered Mr. Cameron, striding impatiently across
the hall. "Why, it's preposterous! He's making a goat of you, son,
that's all. He never meant to print your paper. He simply made up a lot
of conditions that he knew could never be fulfilled and sent you away
with them. It was a mean trick. Just like him, too! He'd think it a
great joke."

"I don't believe he wa