e headgear was talking about
and it finally dawned on him that he was making certain of the spelling
of the word "tip," dictated to him, by repeating the letters as they
appeared in other words.

He caught sight of Morton at a desk on the far side of the big,
high-ceilinged room and crossed over, weaving his way through a
labyrinth of desks, chairs and tables. Morton, who had been glancing
over a newspaper, looked up as he approached.

"Well, if it isn't the Gallant kid!" he exclaimed. "I'd almost forgotten
all about you. Sit down."

John sat down while Morton questioned him. No, he had never done any
writing except a little for his school paper. Yes, he'd like to start
in as a reporter. It didn't make much difference how much he was paid as
long as he could get started.

"All right, then," said Morton, rising. "We'll go over and see P. Q.,
but don't you ever blame him for getting you started in this game."

The sporting editor led him to the fat, bald-headed man with the green
eye-shade.

"P. Q.," he said.

The city editor looked up.

"Here's the young fellow I was telling you about this morning; name's
John Gallant."

"P. Q."--John afterward learned that those were his initials, uniquely
symbolical of his perpetual order to reporters to be "pretty quick" in
their work--looked at the marks on John's face left by the fists of
Battling Rodriguez.

"Fighting face, all right," he said. "Well, suppose you go to work."

He reached back to his desk and brought up a handful of clippings from a
newspaper from which he selected a few short ones.

"Grab a typewriter and rewrite these," he said, handing the clippings to
John. "Keep 'em short. Twenty-five words each. Remember that always.
Keep everything short. Keep your eyes and ears open and read the papers.
Read everything in them. Now get over there and start writing and I'll
call you when I need you."

John knew that as long as he lived he would never forget that first day
in newspaper work. He rewrote the clippings carefully, counting the
words to make certain that they did not exceed the twenty-five ordered
by P. Q. He had done some typewriting at school and practiced more by
filling page after page of copy paper with the old favorite beginner's
sentence, "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the
party," and its twin, "The quick, brown fox jumped over the lazy dog."

He watched in open-mouthed wonder at the speed with which the other
repo