ar as possible from the pouring rain, resembled a
disconsolate turtle with an insufficient carapace.

"I'm Gardner, of the Angelica City Herald," explained the untimely
visitor.

Banneker was surprised. That a reporter should come all the way from the
metropolis of the Southwest to his wreck--he had already established
proprietary interest in it--was gratifying. Furthermore, for reasons of
his own, he was glad to see a journalist. He took him in and lighted up
the office.

"Had to get a horse and ride to Manzanita to interview old Vanney and a
couple of other big guys from the East. My first story's on the wire,"
explained the newcomer offhand. "I want some local-color stuff for my
second day follow-up."

"It must be hard to do that," said Banneker interestedly, "when you
haven't seen any of it yourself."

"Patchwork and imagination," returned the other wearily. "That's what I
get special rates for. Now, if I'd had your chance, right there on the
spot, with the whole stage-setting around one--Lordy! How a fellow could
write that!"

"Not so easy," murmured the agent. "You get confused. It's a sort of
blur, and when you come to put it down, little things that aren't really
important come up to the surface--"

"Put it down?" queried the other with a quick look. "Oh, I see. Your
report for the company."

"Well, I wasn't thinking of that."

"Do you write other things?" asked the reporter carelessly.

"Oh, just foolery." The tone invited--at least it did not
discourage--further inquiry. Mr. Gardner was bored. Amateurs who
"occasionally write" were the bane of him who, having a signature of his
own in the leading local paper, represented to the aspiring mind the
gilded and lofty peaks of the unattainable. However he must play this
youth as a source of material.

"Ever try for the papers?"

"Not yet. I've thought maybe I might get a chance sometime as a sort of
local correspondent around here," was the diffident reply.

Gardner repressed a grin. Manzanita would hardly qualify as a news
center. Diplomacy prompted him to state vaguely that there was always a
chance for good stuff locally.

"On a big story like this," he added, "of course there'd be nothing
doing except for the special man sent out to cover it."

"No. Well, I didn't write my--what I wrote, with any idea of getting it
printed."

The newspaper man sighed wearily, sighed like a child and lied like a
man of duty. "I'd like to see it."

Without