CHAPTER VII.
“NO LOAFERS NOR REPORTERS ADMITTED.”
AS THE young reporter entered the _Phonograph_ office that Mondaymorning he wondered whether or not his week of trial had beensatisfactory. Was he to retain his position, or was he to be politelytold that he was a failure, and that the paper had no need of him? Theanxiety aroused by the mere thought of such a thing weighed heavilyupon him, and he entered the city-room feeling like an accused personwhen about to hear the verdict that shall either set him free orconsign him to a cell. Thus agitated, but setting his teeth and walkingbravely forward to meet his fate, Myles was stopped by hearing Mr.Brown say:
“Oh, Mr. Manning, wait a moment, if you please. Here are the keys of avacant desk and of locker No. 20, that the city editor says you are tohave.”
The verdict was rendered, and it was in his favor. He need have nomore fears. The week of trial had proved satisfactory to his superiorofficers, and they had decided that it was safe to place him “underorders.”
“I DON’T SEE HOW WE CAN BREAK THROUGH THAT RULE, EVEN INYOUR CASE.” (_Page 96._)]
“Hurrah for the new reporter and future editor-in-chief of the_Phonograph_!” he mentally shouted.
To all outward appearance, however, he was as calm as usual, and onlythe heightened color of his face gave token of his excitement.
Taking the keys from Mr. Brown, and thanking him for them, Myles hunghis hat in locker No 20. His locker! Then he found the desk that was tobe his, unlocked its empty drawer, opened it, closed it again, and satdown before it to indulge in a daydream of all the fine things he wouldwrite at that desk; of the special articles he would prepare, and hideaway in that drawer until they should be finished and ready to win forhim a name.
These pleasant thoughts were interrupted, and Myles started as a handwas laid on his shoulder, and Rolfe’s cordial voice said:
“Good-morning, Manning. Allow me to congratulate you upon getting adesk. In this office the possession, of a desk is the sign that a manis doing satisfactory work and is looked upon with favor. If, however,at any time Mr. Brown should politely ask you for the key, you mightas well resign at once and look for another job, for you would get nomore assignments here. It would be the signal of dismissal. I am notafraid for you, though, and I predict that you will hold the key toyour present position until you are ready to resign it of your ownaccord. By the way, what are you going to make your special line ofwork? Nearly every reporter, while of course always ready to acceptany assignment that is offered, has some specialty in which he excels.Some take to politics, detective work, or court reporting, and some tomarine work, such as yacht-racing, wrecks, launches, and all thingsconnected with the sea. Others make a specialty of athletic sports, andstill others of society events. My own specialty, so far as I can findout that I have one, is, I believe, humoristical. At least I have thewholly undeserved credit of writing humorous stories.”
“I’m sure I can’t imagine what mine will be,” laughed Myles, who feltparticularly joyous just at that moment. “I don’t feel that I know muchabout any thing, unless it is boats and boat-racing.”
Then he confided to Rolfe his desire to witness the great collegeboat-race at New London, and asked his advice about applying for theassignment.
“Certainly,” replied the other. “Apply for it by all means. Mr. Haxalllikes to find out in that way what the fellows are most interested in,and makes a point of giving a reporter the style of work most congenialto his tastes if he possibly can. His theory is that a fellow will domuch better if he is interested in his job than he would if it weredistasteful to him. Of course it does not happen one time out of tenthat a fellow gets the particular assignment that he would prefer;but that is not Mr. Haxall’s fault, and he is always glad to have thepreference expressed.”
Thus encouraged, Myles stepped to the city editor’s desk, and,interrupting for a moment the busy work of clipping memoranda from themorning papers, made his request.
Mr. Haxall listened patiently to all that he had to say, and thensmilingly answered:
“I am very sorry, Mr. Manning, but that assignment has already beengiven to Billings. I have, however, another piece of work for you that,I believe, you will do just as well. It is of the utmost importance,and will, I think, interest you greatly. I wish you would set out atonce and obtain every possible detail regarding this case.”
Thus saying the city editor handed Myles a paragraph that he had justclipped from a morning paper, and instantly resumed his interruptedwork. Myles’ curiosity had been greatly aroused by these remarks, andhe imagined that some really important piece of work was about to beconfided to him. What was his disgust, then, upon reading the slip ashe slowly returned to his desk, to find that it was only a stabbingaffray among the Italians of the “Bend,” one of the filthiest slums ofthe city!
“It is too bad!” he exclaimed to Rolfe, who was waiting to learn theresult of his interview. “The idea of giving me such a wretched job asthis, and trying to make me think it was such an important one too.”
“Oh no, it isn’t too bad,” laughed Rolfe. “It is only one of the littlejokes that Joe delights in, and he will chuckle over it to himself foran hour. But, really, you know that job has to be done by somebody,and he only gave it, impartially, to the first man who happened along,which was you. It would have been just the same if I had gone to himinstead of you. He would have given it to me just as quick. Joe has hisfailings, of course, like the rest of us, and sometimes I get awfullyprovoked at him; but I must say that I consider him the most absolutelyjust man I ever knew, and I believe his constant aim is to show perfectimpartiality in all his dealings with those under him. That is morethan can be said of most city editors.”
So Myles, somewhat comforted by these words, started for the “Bend,”instead of for New London, and passed the greater part of the long hotday amid such scenes of misery as only a great city can disclose. Forthe next two days also, it seemed as though all the assignments of thisnature fell to him. At their end he was soul-sick of the disgustingwork he had been called upon to perform, and the desperate wretchednessamid which he had lived. On the third morning, as he entered the officein a dejected frame of mind, wondering what form of human suffering hewould have to encounter that day, Mr. Haxall called him and said:
“I believe, Mr. Manning, that you have had some practical experience incollege boat-racing.”
“A little, sir,” answered Myles, modestly.
“Well,” continued the city editor, “while Billings is a most admirabledescriptive writer, he is not as familiar as I could wish with thedetails of timing a crew, noting their form, and so forth. I havedecided, therefore, to send you to New London to help him out. The racewill not take place until the day after to-morrow, but I think you hadbetter run up there to-day so as to be on hand. You will, of course,report to Billings, and here is an order on the cashier for twenty-fivedollars for your expenses. If you need any more, Billings will furnishit.”
Myles had so completely dismissed all thoughts of the boat-race fromhis mind, that had Mr. Haxall offered him the position of managingeditor he could hardly have been more amazed than by this assignment.He was, however, rapidly learning to conceal all signs of surprise uponsuch occasions, and so, answering, “Very well, sir,” he took the orderon the cashier and left the office.
An hour later he was rolling out of the Grand Central station onhis way to New London, while the scenes amid which he had passedthe preceding two days were already fading beneath the influence ofpleasant anticipations.
Arrived at New London, he had no difficulty in finding Billings, who,having secured for his own use the finest apartment in the best hotelin the city, was now the centre of an interested group of reportersgathered behind its closed doors.
“Hello, Manning!” cried the generally languid Billings, who nowappeared greatly excited. “Come in. You are just in time to take partin our indignation meeting. What do you think the nice little boys ofthe X—— College crew have
gone and done?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Myles, flushing at the tone in whichhis recent mates were spoken of. “I don’t believe, though, that it isany thing to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it, though!” cried several voices, while Billings said:
“It is something they ought to be ashamed of if they are not. Why, theyactually have had the cheek to put a big sign out in front of theirquarters bearing the legend, ‘No Loafers nor Reporters Admitted.’ Whatdo you think of that for impudence, when, if it wasn’t for the press,as represented by us reporters, their little penny races would never beheard of outside of their own little circle of friends? Now, there areplenty of college graduates among us here. We know just how conceitedand ‘cocky’ these young fellows feel, and we can make allowances forthem, but this is going a little too far. What do you say to it,Manning?”
With face as red as fire, but with a brave, honest look in his eyes,Myles stood up and said:
“I expect I am responsible for this insult, gentlemen, and right here Iwish to apologize for it, both on my own account and in behalf of thecrew of which I was so recently the captain.”
Here there was a slight movement of surprise among the other reporters,most of whom were strangers to Myles, and they regarded him curiously.
“Yes,” he continued, “I was captain of the X—— College crew, and Isuggested that, on coming here this year, we put up some such noticeas that of which Billings speaks. I did so in utter ignorance of whatsort of fellows the majority of reporters are, and because last year’screw was greatly bothered by one who made himself a perfect nuisance.He hung about the quarters all the time, patronized the boys, undertookto tell them that their style of rowing was entirely wrong, and triedto have them change it to suit his ideas. Above all, his reports,as published and widely copied, were so filled with absurdities andfalsehoods regarding the crew as made them a laughing-stock for thecommunity. I do not see him here this year, and I am glad of it, but,for fear he would be, I suggested putting up that notice, because wedid not know how to exclude one reporter without making a rule thatshould apply to all. I am sorry now that I ever made such a suggestion,and still more so that my successor has seen fit to carry it out. Ifyou fellows will only have a little patience, and not send any thing toyour papers about this matter before my return, I will go out to thequarters and see what influence I can use to have that notice removed.”
“Good enough!” exclaimed Billings. “You have spoken out like agentleman, Manning, and I think I can answer for every reporter here bysaying that we accept your very handsome apology for your share in thisunfortunate business. We will also give you the chance you ask for,to exert your influence toward having the thing taken down, before webegin to make it unpleasant for them in the papers; won’t we, fellows?”
“Of course we will,” was the almost unanimous reply.
There was, however, one fellow mean enough to slip unnoticed out of theroom and telegraph the whole affair to his paper, laying all the blameupon poor Myles, whom he spoke of as having repented when it was toolate. For this act he was afterward kicked off the press-boat by theother reporters, and so lost his chance of seeing the race.
In the meantime Myles and Billings hurried from the hotel, engaged ahorse and buggy, crossed the ferry to the Groton side of the river, anddrove rapidly up the pleasant country road along its eastern bank tothe X—— quarters.
As they drew up in front of the roomy farmhouse that Myles rememberedso well, he sprang out and found himself face to face with his oldrival, Ben Watkins. Ben, who was now captain of the crew, was walkingtoward the front gate, above which was displayed the cause of all thetrouble.
“How are you, Ben?” said Myles, cordially, as he stepped toward thegate with the intention of entering.
“Ah, Manning, that you?” answered the other in a constrained tone.“Glad to see you—that is,” he added, hesitatingly, “if you come as afriend.”
“As a friend?” questioned Myles in amazement, stopping outside thegate, against which Watkins now leaned in such a manner as to preventits being opened. “What can you mean? How else could I come to thequarters of the X—— College crew?”
“Oh, well,” replied Watkins, a little uneasily, “I heard you had goneon to some paper, and I didn’t know but what you came as a reporter.”
“So I do come as a reporter, as well as a friend of X——,” repliedMyles, whose voice trembled a little, though he tried to speak calmlyand naturally. “I have been sent here to help report this race for the_Phonograph_. But what difference does that make?”
“A great deal,” answered Watkins; “for I don’t see how we can breakthrough that rule”—here he pointed to the notice above theirheads—“even in your case.”
“Do you mean to say that, merely because he has become a reporter, yourefuse to admit to these grounds the man who was captain of this crewonly two weeks ago?” cried Myles, hotly.
“That’s about the size of it. If we exclude one reporter we mustexclude all. Those, I believe, were your own words. I’m sorry, but itwouldn’t do, you know, to let friendship interfere with business.”
“If I acknowledge that I was a fool when I made that speech, if I tellyou that this miserable notice is one of the biggest mistakes you couldpossibly make, and beg you, for the sake of the college and of thecrew, to take it down, won’t you do it?” asked Myles.
“No; I don’t think we will. Of course it is natural for you to thinkthat way now. Perhaps I would in your place; but, as I have not themotive that you have to change my opinion of reporters, I rather thinkwe will let the notice remain where it is, and act up to it.”
“Then,” replied Myles, whose hot temper was rapidly escaping from hiscontrol, “all I have to say is that, in putting up this notice, youmade a fool of yourself, and in keeping it up you not only disgraceyourself but the college you represent.”
“And in reply to such a very friendly speech I would remark that whena fellow, pretending to be a gentleman, relinquishes those pretensionsand becomes a reporter, he has descended to the level for which natureintended him,” retorted Watkins.
“If it were not for breaking up the crew on the eve of a great race,I’d make you apologize for those words, Ben Watkins!” cried Myles.
“You can’t do it, and you dare not try,” was the mocking answer.
Myles had so completely lost control of himself by this time, that hewould have answered this taunt by something much more forcible thanwords, and undoubtedly Ben Watkins would have had cause to regretarousing the wrath of the young athlete before whom the best men in theX—— gymnasium had been unable to stand up; but just then a soft handwas laid on the young reporter’s shoulder, and Billings’ languid voicedrawled out:
“Let the poor fellow go, Manning. He will hurt himself more than youcan hurt him in the long run.”
Myles allowed himself to be persuaded, and in another minute the tworeporters were driving rapidly back toward the city.
“It is too bad,” said Myles, presently, “that your chance of gettinga description of the crew, and how they live in training, and of theboat, should be knocked in the head by that fellow’s stupidity.”
“Oh, I’ll get all that to-morrow,” was the careless reply.
“But they won’t admit you.”
“I guess they will, and tell me all I want to know, and show me everything I want to see. I shouldn’t wonder if they even invited me to goout with them in their boat—and I’ll do it too.”
“Whatever can you mean?” asked Myles.
“Wait until to-morrow and I’ll show you the trick,” said Billings.