statistics. When the
major started on the war it was time to be going. One by one the
youngsters got up and slipped out. Presently the major, booming away
like a bell buoy, became aware that his audience had dwindled. Only Ike
Webb remained, and Ike was getting upon his feet and reaching for the
peg where his coat swung.

"I'm sorry to leave you right in the middle of your story, major; but,
honestly, I've got to be going," apologized Ike. "Good night, and don't
forget this, major"--Ike had halted at the door--"when a big story comes
your way freeze to it with both hands and slam it across the plate as a
scoop. Do that and you can give 'em all the laugh. Good night again--see
you in the morning, major!"

He grinned to himself as he turned away. The major was a mighty decent,
tender-hearted little old scout, a gentleman by birth and breeding,
even if he was down and out and dog-poor. It was a shame that Devore
kept him skittering round on little picayunish jobs--running errands,
that was really what it was. Still, at that, the old major was no
reporter and never would be. He wouldn't know a big story if he ran into
it on the big road--it would have to burst right in his face before he
recognized it. And even then the chances were that he wouldn't know what
to do with it. It was enough to make a fellow grin.

Deserted by the last of his youthful compatriots--which was what he
himself generally called them--the major lingered a moment in heavy
thought. He glanced about the cluttered city room, now suddenly grown
large and empty. This was the theater where his own little drama of
unfitness and failure and private mortification had been staged and
acted. It had run nearly a month now, and a month is a long run for a
small tragedy in a newspaper office or anywhere else. He shook his head.
He shook it as though he were trying to shake it clear of a job lot of
old-fashioned, antiquated ideals--as though he were trying to make room
for newer, more useful, more modern conceptions. Then he settled his
aged and infirm slouch hat more firmly upon his round-domed skull,
straightened his shoulders and stumped out.

At the second turning up the street from the office an observant
onlooker might have noticed a small, an almost imperceptible change in
the old man's bearing. There was not a sneaky bone in the major's
body--he walked as he thought and as he talked, in straight lines; but
before he turned the corner he glanced up and do