end all your stuff typewritten, you know. Imagine Fergus getting a
screed from a staff man in longhand!"

The reporter chuckled at the thought.

"Why, I believe the old red-head would take a trip down to the West
Indies just to have a chance of saying what he thought. Or, if he
couldn't go, he'd blow up, and we'd be out a mighty good Sunday Editor.
No, son, you've got to learn to tickle a typewriter!"

They had not been wasting time during this talk, for the reporter had
taken out of his own desk the paper, letter-heads, expense account
blanks and the rest and handed them over to the boy, explaining that he
could easily replenish his own supply.

"Now," he suggested, "make tracks for the consulate. Stop at a printer's
on your way and order some cards. Then chase back and buy yourself a
portable typewriter. And, if I were you, I'd start learning it, right
tonight. Then, hey! Off for the West Indies again, eh?"

"But don't I go and say good-by to the City Editor, or the Managing
Editor, or anyone?"

"What for? You've got your berth, you've got your money, you're going to
get your passport, and you've got your assignment. Nothing more for you
to do, Son, except to get down there and deliver the goods."

He led the way out of the office and to the elevator. On reaching the
street, he turned to the boy.

"There's one thing," he said, "that may help you, seeing that you're new
to the work. When you get down to Barbados, drop into the office of the
biggest paper there. Chum up with the boys. They'll see that you're a
youngster, and they'll help you all they can. You'll find newspaper men
pretty clannish, the world over. Well, good-bye, Garfield, I won't be
likely to see you again before you go. I've got that Traction Swindle to
cover and there's going to be a night hearing."

The boy shook hands with real emotion.

"You've been mighty good to me," he said, "it's made all the difference
to my stay in New York."

"Oh! That's all right!" came the hearty reply. "Well--good luck!"

He turned down the busy street and, in a moment, was lost in the crowd.

For a moment Stuart felt a twinge of loneliness, but the afternoon was
short, and he had a great deal to do. It was only by hurrying that he
was able to get done all the various things that had been suggested.
Despite his rush, however, the boy took time to send a cable to his
father, telling of his own safety, for he had no means of knowing
whether or not his father