ur father, and I've known him twenty years.
How did you get over the creek--tell me about it?"

Jack told him, and Mr. Prodger drew a long breath at the end of the
story.

"You didn't know the risk you were running," he said; "but you did
first-rate, and if I needed another driver I'd be glad to hire you.
What did Livermore say I was to pay you?"

"He didn't say," said Jack. "I wasn't thinking about being paid."

"So much the better. I think the more of you, my boy. But it was
plucky to drive that team over Link's bridge just before it went down.
I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll pay you what they'll earn me
to-night--it will be about three dollars--and we'll call it square.
How will that do?"

"It's more than I've earned," said Jack, gratefully.

"I'm satisfied, if you are," said Mr. Prodger as Jack jumped down.
"Come and see me again if you're to be in town. You're fond of horses
and have a knack with them."

"Three dollars!" said Jack, after the money had been paid him, and he
was on his way back to the Murdochs'. "Mother let me have the six
dollars they gave me for the fish. And this makes nine dollars. Why,
it will take me the rest of the way to the city--but I wouldn't have a
cent when I got there."

When he reached the editor's house, Jack noticed that the house was on
the same square with the block of wooden buildings containing the
_Eagle_ office, and that the editor could go to his work through his
own garden, if he chose, instead of around by the street. He was again
welcomed by Mrs. Murdoch, and then led at once into Mr. Murdoch's room,
where the editor was in bed, groaning and complaining in a way that
indicated much distress.

"I'm very sorry you're sick, Mr. Murdoch," said Jack.

"Thank you, Jack. It's just my luck. It's the very worst time for me
to be on the sick-list. Nobody to get out the _Eagle_. Lost my
'devil' to-day, too!"

"Lost your 'devil'?" exclaimed Jack.

"Yes," said Mr. Murdoch in despair. "No 'devil'! No editor! Nobody
but a wooden foreman and a pair of lead-headed type-stickers. The man
that does the mailing has more than he can do, too. There won't be any
_Eagle_ this week, and perhaps none next week. Plenty of 'copy' nearly
ready, too. It's too bad!"

[Illustration: _"There won't be any Eagle this week."_]

"You needn't feel so discouraged," said Jack, deeply touched by the
distress of the groaning editor. "Molly and I know what to do. She
can man