m out for money,"
laughed Paul.

"That's right. You have the proper spirit--the spirit that buys
typewriters," answered his father. "I don't believe the exercise will
hurt you, and at the end of it you will have something more to show than
a dislocated shoulder, maybe, or a cracked cranium."

"Do you think I can earn what money I shall need to make up the rest of
my fifty dollars?" inquired Paul anxiously. "Can I do it in a month?"

"A month of work will give you the rest of your fifty, son; have no
fears. It will give you, too, all the work you will want for one
while," answered Mr. Cameron. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, you will be
quite ready to resign your post to Thompson when he comes back."

"Perhaps I shall," Paul replied, "but if you are repenting your bargain
and are trying to scare me off, Dad, it is too late. You have hired me
and I mean to stick it out."

"Go ahead, youngster, and good luck to you!" chuckled his father.

CHAPTER X

A DISASTER

It was after Paul had toiled early and late and put aside enough money
for the new typewriter, and even a little more, that the first calamity
befell the _March Hare_.

When the accounts were found to be short, it was unbelievable. Melville
Carter, the business manager, who handled all the funds, was the soul of
honesty as well as an excellent mathematician. His books were the pride
of the editorial staff. Therefore when he was confronted with the
hundred-dollar deficit, he could scarcely speak for amazement. There
must be some mistake, he murmured over and over. He had kept the
accounts very carefully, and not an expenditure had been made that had
not been talked over first with the board and promptly recorded. There
never had been a large surplus in the bank after the monthly bills were
paid, but there was always a small margin for emergencies. The treasury
had never before gone stone dry. But there it was! Not only was there no
money in the bank, but the _March Hare_ was about fifty dollars in the
hole.

Paul and Melville went over and over the accounts, vainly searching for
the error. But there was no error. The columns seemed to add up quite
correctly. So, however, did the deposit slips from the bank. And the
tragedy was that the two failed to agree. The bank had a hundred dollars
less to the credit of the _March Hare_ than the books said it should
have.

In the meantime, at the bottom of Paul's pocket, lay a bill of fifty
dollars for publ