rable
Secretary between stations." Dan Anderson blew a faint wreath of blue
smoke up toward the blue sky and remained silent for a time.

"The next particular Basswood Junction happened to be a Democratic
minin' town, instead of a Republican agricultural community. It didn't
have any overall factories at all. They didn't relish bein' told that
they had voted the straight Republican ticket ever since Alexander
Hamilton, and that they had given to the public that distinguished
citizen, James K. Blinkensop, when the man they had really given to the
public was Dan G. Healy. Oh, the whole thing got all mixed up! Now,
that was News! And they fired me by wire that night! The People's
Choice was awful hostile. And me raised tender, too!"

"Well, then, what did you do?" asked I, getting interested in spite of
myself.

"I was far, far from home. But not thus easily could I be shaken out
of my chosen profession. In thirty-eight minutes I was at work as
managin' editor of a mornin' paper. That particular Basswood Junction
was just startin' a daily, the kind the real-estate men and the local
congressman have to support or go out of the business. Their editor
had been raised on a weekly, and had been used to goin' to sleep at
eight o'clock in the evening. The rumor spread that a metropolitan
journalist had fallen out of a balloon into their midst. That
morning's paper was two days late. So I just went in and went to work.
I sent every one else home to bed, and sat down to write the paper.

"Of course, I began with dogs, for on account of my early trainin' I
knew more about that. Two columns of dogs as a Local Industry. Then I
took up Mineral Resources, about half a column. Might have played that
up a little stronger, but I was shy on facts. Then I did the Literary
and Dramatic. I shuddered when I struck that, because when a man on a
paper gets put on Literary and Dramatic, it usually isn't far to his
finish. He don't have to send out after trouble--it comes to him
spontaneous. Next, I had to do Society. Didn't know anybody there, so
that was a little hard. Had to content myself with the
Beautiful-and-Accomplished-Who-Shall-be-Nameless,--that sort of thing.
Why," said Dan Anderson, plaintively, "it's awful hard to write society
and local news in a town when you've only been there fifteen minutes.
But a real metropolitan journalist ought to be able to, and I did.

"By this time the office force was standin'