iated by him in the news columns.

Nevertheless, his impotency to speak out openly and individually the
faith that was in him, left always a bitter residue in his mind. It now
informed his answer to Van Cleve's characterization of his job.

"If I can sneak a tenth of the truth past the copy-desk," he said, "I'm
doing well. And what sort of man am I when I go up against these
big-bugs of industry at their conventions, and conferences, appearing as
representative of The Courier which represents their interests? A damned
hypocrite, I'd say! If they had brains enough to read between the lines
of my stuff, they'd see it."

"Why don't you tell 'em?" asked Mallory lazily.

"I did, once. I told the President of the United Manufacturers'
Association what I really thought of their attitude toward labor."

"With what result?"

"He ordered The Courier to fire me."

"You're still there."

"Yes. But he isn't. I went after him on his record."

"All of which doesn't sound much like mud-eating, Pop."

"I've done my bit of that in my time, too. I've had jobs to do that a
self-respecting swill-hustler wouldn't touch. I've sworn I wouldn't do
'em. And I've done 'em, rather than lose my job. Just as young Banneker
will, when the test comes."

"I'll bet he won't," said Tommy Burt.

Mallory, who had been called away, returned in time to hear this. "You
might ask him to settle the bet," he suggested. "I've just had him on
the 'phone. He's coming around."

"I will," said Edmonds.

On his arrival Banneker was introduced to those of the men whom he did
not know, and seated next to Edmonds.

"We've been talking about you, young fellow," said the veteran.

From most men Banneker would have found the form of address patronizing.
But the thin, knotty face of Edmonds was turned upon him with so kindly
a regard in the hollow eyes that he felt an innate stir of knowledge
that here was a man who might be a friend. He made no answer, however,
merely glancing at the speaker. To learn that the denizens of Park Row
were discussing him, caused him neither surprise nor elation. While he
knew that he had made hit after hit with his work, he was not inclined
to over-value the easily won reputation. Edmonds's next remark did not
please him.

"We were discussing how much dirt you'd eat to hold your job on The
Ledger."

"The Ledger doesn't ask its men to eat dirt, Edmonds," put in Mallory
sharply.

"Chop, fried potatoes, coffee, and a stein