larry’s desire to get a little study in during his spare moments was the cause of some trouble between him and the office boy who had taken peter’s place. this lad’s name was tom mead, and he was much the same type of a youngster as peter was. not that he was bad, but he was up to sharp tricks, and he did not like to work when he could get out of it.
bud nelson was, by right of long service, the head office boy in the city room. larry came next, and then tom.
things had been pretty lively in the leader office for the past week, as there was an election on and there were many stories for the reporters. this made much more copy than usual, and, consequently, more trips from the city room to the pneumatic tube.
the boys had fallen into the habit of taking turns with rushing the copy, which went up in batches, so that the work would be more evenly divided. at larry’s suggestion there were three chairs in a row. when one boy took some copy,131 to the tube he came back and took the end seat. the boy who had been immediately behind him had, in the meanwhile moved up one seat to be ready for the next batch. thus they had to run only a third as often as before, and the work was shared evenly.
when it came his turn to take the rear seat, which insured him several minutes of quietness, larry would take out his lesson book and study. this did not seem to meet with the approval of tom, who had a dislike for “book-worms” as he called them.
“regular sissy-boy,” he said of larry, though he did not venture to call our hero that to his face.
one afternoon, when larry had hurried to the tube with a bunch of copy he came back, expecting to take the last seat, which had been occupied by tom. he found the latter still in the end chair, and the boy showed no signs of moving up.
“move ahead,” said larry, in a low tone.
“move yourself!” exclaimed tom. “i’ve got as good a right here as you. i’m tired of chasing copy while you read books. i’m going to take a rest.”
“i’m studying, not reading,” said larry. “besides i carry my share of copy. it will be your turn in a minute.”
“copy!” called mr. emberg, and bud, who had moved to the first chair, jumped up and ran for it.
132 “it’s your turn next,” said larry to tom.
“i don’t care if it is,” was the answer.
“copy!” cried mr. emberg’s assistant.
tom did not leave his seat.
“it’s your turn,” repeated larry.
“i don’t care if it is!” exclaimed tom. “go with it yourself if you’re in such a hurry.”
“copy here!” was the cry. “come, what’s the matter with you boys? going to sleep?”
mr. emberg, wondering at the delay, looked up. he saw bud returning to the room, and, being aware of the understanding among the boys about their turns, looked to see what the hitch was between larry and tom.
“whose turn is it?” asked the city editor. “be quick about it. don’t stand there all day. the paper has to come out.”
“it’s his turn!” exclaimed larry.
“well, he’s always readin’,” growled tom. “i’m tired of runnin’ with his copy.”
“i’m not always reading!” declared larry, determined to have justice done. “it was my turn to take the last seat, but he wouldn’t move up for me.”
“he’s always got a book in his pocket,” growled tom.
“whose turn is it?” demanded mr. emberg, coming over to where the boys were and addressing bud.
“i think it was tom’s,” said bud.
133 “well, then i’ll go,” growled the newest office boy, with no very good grace.
“what book are you reading?” asked mr. emberg of larry.
“i wasn’t reading, i was studying,” was larry’s answer as he produced his speller and handed it to the city editor.
“um!” remarked mr. emberg. “spelling, eh? well, you’ll need it in the newspaper business. but don’t neglect your work to study, larry.”
“no, sir,” replied the boy, yet he felt that mr. emberg was not displeased with him. “and i want you boys to stop quarreling about this carrying of copy,” the city editor said. “each one must take his turn.”
“squealer!” whispered tom when he came back, and he slyly shook his fist at larry. “i’ll fix you!”
so larry seemed to have made two enemies in a short time. but he knew that he had done no wrong and he felt that it was not his fault. as for being afraid of either peter or tom, such a thought never entered his head.
larry was beginning to be of much service around the leader office. he was quick to understand what was wanted, and none of the other boys could go to the composing room and get a proof as rapidly as he could. he took a pleasure in his work, and never shirked the carrying of copy.
134 occasionally he was sent out with the reporters who had to go some distance away to cover stories, to bring back their copy. he liked this sort of work. best of all he liked to go with mr. newton, for this reporter, being one of the oldest and most valuable men, had important assignments, and usually went to some interesting place.
it happened that there was a strike on one of the lines of electric cabs operated by a private company in the upper part of the city. from a small affair the matter grew to be a large one, since the strikers would not work themselves, nor did they want to let men called in to fill their places take out the vehicles.
the result was a war between the union and non-union factions. matters grew so hot that the police had to be called out several times, for a cab operated by a “scab,” as the non-unionists were called by the strikers, was likely to be stoned, upset, and the occupants injured. the strike grew in size until the whole electric cab system was involved.
most of the trouble centered around the headquarters of the cab concern, pretty well uptown, and there were several rows between the strikers, the non-unionists, and the police.
“i think you had better cover that strike,” said mr. emberg to mr. newton one day. “you’ll have to remain on the scene all day. i’ll send a135 boy up with you and you can send your copy down. telephone if anything big happens, otherwise write the story as it goes along and send it in. make it interesting, for the people like to read about such things. what boy do you want?”
“i’ll take larry,” said mr. newton. “he’s quick and smart.”
“that’s the reason i like to have him in the office,” said the city editor. “but go ahead, take him with you. and you’ll have to keep an eye out for him and yourself too. the strikers are in an ugly mood, and they have little use for the papers.”
“i’ll look out,” said mr. newton.
larry went uptown to the office of the cab concern. in order to have a headquarters near the scene of battle mr. newton arranged to have the use of a little store near the cab stables. there was a telephone in it, and a small table where the reporter could write.
larry and mr. newton reached the place about nine o’clock in the morning. no sooner had they arrived than there was a fight between the union and non-union forces. several of the former attacked a cab taken out by a new man. they pulled him from the seat and then, turning on the power full, allowed the motor vehicle to run wild about the streets.
several persons had narrow escapes from being136 injured and two horses were knocked down by the big cab with no one to guide it. another horse ran away from fright. the police reserves were sent for, and altogether there was considerable excitement.
mr. newton wrote a lively story of the happening, and sent larry back to the office with it. then he sat down in the store to await developments. they were not long in coming, for, pretty soon, the strikers upset a cab. so, when larry got back, there was another batch of copy waiting for him.
“plenty of stories!” cried mr. emberg.
newsboys brought several copies of the leader around to the headquarters of the cab firm that afternoon, and the story of the morning’s happenings was eagerly read by the strikers.
they did not seem to like the frank manner in which mr. newton had described their doings and there were several murmurs against the “capitalistic press.”
“there’s the reporter what done it!” exclaimed a big striker, pointing to mr. newton, who had stepped from the store to see how matters were coming on.
“let’s soak him!” cried several.
there was a movement in the crowd, but the police were on the lookout for trouble and made the men disperse, at which there was more grumbling.
137 “aren’t you afraid?” asked larry of the reporter.
“not a bit,” was the reply. “i’m used to having trouble. i’m not afraid of them.”
the strike was worse the next day, and so many violent acts were committed that extra policemen had to be sent for. several strike-breakers were attacked as they tried to run the electric cabs and were quite badly hurt. mr. newton wrote vivid stories about the occurrences, and the leader had a strong editorial, condemning the strikers.
this made the union men more angry than ever at the leader, and they seemed to think mr. newton was the chief one on whom they could vent their ill feeling. they shook their fists at him whenever he appeared, and once a stone was hurled through the air at him, narrowly missing his head.
“you’d better look out,” some of the policemen advised him.
larry had plenty of copy to take down that day, and made three trips. the last two times he noticed as he was going up the stairs of the elevated road, where he took a train that brought him close to the leader office, three men regarding him closely. once he heard one of the trio say:
“that’s him!”
however, he did not think they meant him,138 and so he gave the matter no more consideration. he took the story to the office and came back for more. there was quite a bunch of copy waiting, as several incidents had occurred that mr. newton had preferred writing about instead of telephoning.
as larry was going up the stairs to the train with this last batch of copy he saw the three men again.
“now’s our chance!” one of them cried.
two of them made a grab for the boy, for the stairs were screened in from observation, and no one was in sight.
