d me as I was
leaving, and asked me to have you step over to the Court House for a
minute."

"What's Kennedy want?"

"Something about the celebration, he said. I guess he wants to talk
with you about some further details of the programme."

"Why the deuce didn't he come over here then?" growled Bruce. "I'm as
busy as he is!"

"He said he couldn't leave."

"Couldn't leave?" said Bruce, with a snap of his heavy jaw. "Well,
neither can I!"

"You mean you won't go?"

"That's what I mean! I'll go to the very gates of hell to get a good
piece of news, but when it comes to general affairs the politicians,
business men, and the etceteras of this town have got to understand
that there's just as much reason for their coming to me as for my
going to them. I'm as important as any of them."

"So-ho, we're on our high horse, are we?"

"You bet we are, my son! And that's where you've got to be if you want
this town to respect you."

"All right. She's a great nag, if you can keep your saddle. But I
guess I'd better tell Kennedy you're not coming."

Without rising, Billy leaned back and took up Bruce's desk telephone,
and soon was talking to the prosecuting attorney. After a moment he
held out the instrument to the editor.

"Kennedy wants to speak with you," he said.

Bruce took the 'phone.

"Hello, that you Kennedy?... No, I can't come--too busy. Suppose you
run over here.... Got some people there? Well, bring 'em along.... Why
can't they come? Who are they?... Can't you tell me what the situation
is?... All right, then; in a couple of minutes."

Bruce hung up the receiver and arose.

"So you're going after all?" asked Billy.

"Guess I'd better," returned the editor, putting on his coat and hat.
"Kennedy says something big has just broken loose. Sounds queer.
Wonder what the dickens it can be." And he started out.

"But how about your celebration story?" queried Billy. "Want it to go
down?"

Bruce looked at his watch.

"Two hours till press time; I guess it can wait." And taking the story
back from the boy he tossed it upon his desk.

He stepped out into the local room, which showed the same kindly
tolerance of dirt as did his private office. At a long table two young
men sat before typewriters, and in a corner a third young man was
taking the clicking dictation of a telegraph sounder.

"Remember, boys, keep everything but the celebration down to bones!"
Bruce called out. And with that he passed out of th