Chapter 29 - Page 2

few freckles about his nose. He laughed as he finished reading the
letter.

'Are you Dave Brower's boy?' he asked in a drawling falsetto,
looking at me out of grey eyes and smiling with good humour.

'By adoption,' I answered.'

'He was an almighty good rassler,' he said, deliberately, as he
looked again at the letter.'

'What do you want to do?' he asked abruptly.'

'Want to work on the Tribune,' I answered.'

'Good Lord! he said. 'I can't hire everybody.'

I tried to think of some argument, but what with looking at the
great man before me, and answering his questions and maintaining
a decent show of dignity, I had enough to do.

'Do you read the Tribune? he asked.'

'Read it ever since I can remember.'

'What do you think of the administration?

'Lot of dough faces! I answered, smiling, as I saw he recognised
his own phrase. He sat a moment tapping the desk with his
penholder.'

'There's so many liars here in New York,' he said, 'there ought to
be room for an honest man. How are the crops?'

'Fair, I answered. 'Big crop of boys every year.'

'And now you're trying to find a market, he remarked.'

'Want to have you try them,' I answered.

'Well,' said he, very seriously, turning to his desk that came up to
his chin as he sat beside it, 'go and write me an article about rats.'

'Would you advise-,' I started to say, when he interrupted me.

'The man that gives advice is a bigger fool than the man that takes
it,' he fleered impatiently. 'Go and do your best!'

Before he had given me this injunction he had dipped his pen and
begun to write hurriedly. If I had known him longer I should have
known that, while he had been talking to me, that tireless mind of
his had summoned him to its service. I went out, in high spirits,
and sat down a moment on one of the benches in the little park
near by, to think it all over. He was going to measure my
judgement, my skill as a writer- my resources. 'Rats,' I said to
myself thoughtfully. I had read much about them. They infested
the ships, they overran the wharves, they traversed the sewers. An
inspiration came to me. I started for the waterfront, asking my way
every block or two. Near the East River I met a policeman - a big,
husky, good-hearted Irishman.

'Can you tell me,' I said, 'who can give me information about rats?'

'Rats?' he repeated. 'What d' ye wan't' know about thim?'

'Everything,' I said. 'They ve just given me a job on the New York
Tribune,' I added proudly.

He smiled good-naturedly. He had looked through me at a glance.

'Just say "Tribune",' he said. 'Ye don't have t' say "New York
Tribune"