bud first showed larry how to work the pneumatic or compressed-air tube. around it stood several other boys who seemed to be quite busy. now and then one would dash in with a bunch of paper, grab a tube, stuff the copy in, and yank the lever over. a hissing, as the imprisoned air rushed into the pipe, told that the copy was on its way to the composing room.
“where are those boys from; other papers?” asked larry.
“gosh, no!” exclaimed bud. “no boy from another paper would dare come in here; that is while he worked for another paper. we’d think he was trying to get wind of some exclusive story we had. those boys are from the different departments. one carries copy from the state department, another from the sporting room, and another from the telegraph desk.”
then bud briefly explained that there were several editors on the paper. one took charge of all the news in the city, and this was mr. emberg. another handled all the foreign news that came in54 over the telegraph. still another took charge of all matters that happened in the state outside of the city and the immediate surrounding territory. then there was the sporting editor, who looked after all such things as football and baseball games, racing, wrestling, and so on. each editor had a separate room, and there were one or two boys in each department to carry copy to the tube room, whence it was sent up to the printers.
“but our room’s the best,” finished bud, with an air of conscious pride.
larry was shown where the offices of the different editors were, so that he would know where to go if sent with messages to them. he was also taken to the composing room.
there he stood for a while bewildered by the noise and seeming confusion. a score of typesetting machines were at work, clicking away while the men sat at the keyboards, which were almost like those of typewriters. larry saw where the tubes with copy in them bounced from the air pipe into a box. from that they were taken to a table by a boy, whose face was liberally covered with printer’s ink.
there a man rapidly numbered them with a blue pencil, and gave the sheets out to the compositors.
“sometimes you have to come up here for proofs of a story,” bud explained. “then go over to that man there,” pointing to a tall thin55 individual, “and repeat whatever mr. emberg or whoever sends you, says. you see there are several different kinds of type in the heads of a story and each story is called according to the kind of a head it has.”
“i’m afraid i’ll never learn,” said larry, who was beginning to feel confused.
“oh yes, you will. i’ll explain it all to you. you probably won’t have to go for proofs for several days. you’ll only have to carry copy.”
they stayed up in the composing room for some time, and every second larry wondered more and more how out of so much seeming confusion any order could ever come.
boys with long galleys, like narrow brass pans that corresponded in size to columns of the newspaper, and set full of type, were hurrying with them to a big machine where they were placed on a flat table, and a roller covered with ink passed over them. then a boy placed a long narrow slip of paper on the inky type, passed another roller over it, and lifted off the paper.
“that’s what they calling pulling or taking a proof,” said bud. “but come on now, we’ll go back to the city room and rush copy. i guess there’s some by this time.”
there was quite a bit, for a number of stories had been handed in by the reporters, had been looked over by mr. emberg, his assistant, or the copy readers, and were ready for the compositors.56 peter had been kept busy running back and forth and was in no gentle humor.
“i’ll fix you for this,” muttered peter to larry and bud. “i’ll get even for running off and letting me do all the work. you jest wait an’ see wot i do!”
he spoke in a low tone, for he did not want the city editor to hear.
“cut it out,” advised bud with a grin. “i was sent to show larry about the plant and you know it. besides, if you try any of your tricks i know something i can do.”
“what?” asked peter.
“who was smoking cigarettes?” asked bud in a whisper.
“if you squeal on me i’ll—i’ll do you up brown,” threatened peter.
“it will take two like you,” boasted bud.
“well, i can get somebody to help me,” sputtered peter.
“copy!” called mr. emberg at that instant, and, at a nod from bud, larry sprang forward to carry it to the tube. it was his first actual work in the newspaper office, and quite proud he felt as he put the story in the case and sent it up the pipe.
from then on all three boys were kept busy, for as the morning wore on several reporters came in with stories, long or short, that they had gathered on their various assignments, and these57 were quickly corrected and edited, and ready for the typesetters.
back and forth, from the city room desk to the pneumatic tube, the three boys ran. larry noticed that peter was in the sulks and that he did not seem to care very much about doing the work. once or twice he lagged down the hall instead of hurrying back from the tube after more copy as he should have done, once mr. emberg remarked sharply to him:
“peter, if you don’t want to work here, there are lots of other boys i can get.”
“my foot hurts me,” whined the boy, as he limped slightly.
“why didn’t you say so before?” inquired the city editor. “if it is very bad you can go home and come in to-morrow.”
“oh, it’s not as bad as that,” replied peter, fearing lest he should be found out in his deceit. “i guess i can stand it.”
meanwhile larry was kept on the jump. he soon got the knack of his duties and resolved to make himself as useful as possible. with this in view he kept close watch on the desk, and, as soon as he saw mr. emberg, the assistant city editor, or any of the readers, fold up copy, preparatory to handing it to one of the boys, larry hurried up without waiting for the cry “copy!”
“that’s the way to do it,” said mr. emberg58 encouragingly, as he noticed larry’s remarkable quickness.
“don’t be so fresh,” muttered peter on one of these occasions, as he passed larry in the long and deserted hall. “there’s no use rushin’ so, and the union won’t stand for it. i’ll punch your head if you don’t look out!”
“i’m going to do my work right, and i don’t care what you say!” exclaimed larry. “and if there’s any head punching to be done, i can do my share!”
“um,” grunted peter. “i’ll get square with you all right!”
it was now noon, and the paper went to press for the first edition shortly after one o’clock. so there was considerable excitement and hurry in all the departments, to get the important news set up and ready to be printed.
reporters were hurrying in and out, the readers and editors were using their pencils rapidly, correcting and changing copy, and the three boys in the city room were kept on the jump all the time.
shortly before one o’clock a reporter came in all out of breath.
“man—killed—himself—in—the—post office just—now!” he gasped.
“quick!” shouted mr. emberg. “we’ve only got ten minutes to catch the edition. write as fast as you can. short paragraphs. here, one59 of you boys bring me the sheets as fast as mr. steifert finishes them.”
the reporter sat down to a typewriter, rapidly inserted a piece of paper and began to click out copy so fast that larry wondered how he could see the keys.
“i’ll carry the sheets to mr. emberg,” said bud to larry, “and you get ready to rush them to the tube.”
this was done. as soon as mr. steifert had one paragraph written he pulled it from the machine and handed it to bud, who ran with it to the city editor. the latter quickly glanced at it, corrected one or two slight errors, and passed it over to larry, who fairly raced down the hall.
when he came back another page was ready, and this was kept up until the story was all upstairs. then mr. emberg proceeded to write a head for it and larry carried that copy to the tube.
“just made that in time,” said the city editor, as larry came back. “now, mr. steifert, get ready a better and longer story for the next edition. you can take a little more time.”
matters became more quiet in the office after the first edition had gone to press. there were to be two more editions, and there still remained plenty of work to do. once or twice larry was sent to get proofs from the composing room and luckily he made no errors.
60 it was getting on toward four o’clock when the last edition was getting ready to close.
“copy!” called mr. emberg, holding out a bunch of paper and not looking up to see who answered his summons.
larry ran and grabbed it and sped down the hall. halfway down he was met by peter, who also had some papers in his hand.
“i’ll put that in the tube for you,” said peter. “i’ve got some more to go in.”
at first larry hesitated. then, thinking perhaps peter wanted to make up for his recent unkind remarks, larry gave him the copy and returned to the city room.
a little later the big presses began thundering in the sub-cellar, and soon the first copies of the last edition were off and a boy brought several to the city room.
“here! what’s this?” cried mr. emberg suddenly, after a hasty glance over the paper. “where’s that story about alderman murphy?”
“i handed it to you,” said one of the reporters.
“i know you did, reilly. i handled it and put a display head on it. it went up in time, but it isn’t in. who took that copy?” he asked, turning to the three boys who stood to one side of the room. no one answered for a second or two.
“it was written on yellow paper,” went on mr. emberg.
61 “i—i did,” replied larry, wondering what was going to happen.
“what did you do with it?”
“i—i gave it to peter,” faltered larry.
“you did not!” cried the other office boy, in an angry voice.
