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Updated: May 23, 2025
Next morning, watering all our horses, and having a fine open-air bath on the top of the Turtle Back, Mr. Tietkens and I got three of them and again started for Ayers Range, nearly west. Reaching it, we travelled upon the bearing of the gap which we had seen in the most distant range.
At any rate, Roosevelt and Ayers determined to stop the firing of our line, and suddenly, above the din of battle, these two officers could be heard, tramping up and down the trench in front of their men, haranguing, commanding, ridiculing their men for shooting in the dark.
The minute the press turns in the Democrat office, Ayers grabs the first paper, folds it and saunters hastily over toward the Argus. Sometimes he meets Simpson half way over with a copy of the Argus in his pocket, and sometimes he gets clear over and has a chance to swell around for a minute with his new-born paper in plain sight, watching the mad foreman lock up the forms.
One week old man Ayers and his foreman will hurry out from the Democrat office and trot hastily over to the post-office carrying the week's issue of the paper between them in a wash basket. And the next week Simpson and the office devil will beat them to it. Now and then they will both appear at the same time and race side by side, bareheaded, coatless, breathless, and full of hate.
That would have set Ayers off dead against it, and we had to muzzle Lafe until Ayers had committed himself. The struggles of the two editors to outdo each other have been titanic. When Simpson put in a steam engine, Ayers mortgaged his plant and got one of the new gasoline engines just then being introduced into an unhappy world.
"They sent for me from a family hotel in Ayers Street," the driver was explaining. Mr. Bentley's voice interrupted him. "He must be brought in, at once. Do you know where Dr. Latimer's office is, on Tower Street?" he asked the man. "Go there, and bring this doctor back with you as quickly as possible. If he is not in, get another, physician."
We talk with the foreman and make nuisances of ourselves generally, and presently old man Ayers, who runs the paper, waddles in with another item to be set.
"I only wish," said the Woman earnestly, "that the Officers of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and Congress, and everybody, might hear the way Dalzene, Holmsen, Hegness, Fred Ayers, and the Johnsons speak of their dogs, just as one speaks of cherished friends, not dumb brutes.
"Preston Parr had been in love with this woman, and separated from her. She was under Mr. Bentley's care when he found her again, I infer, by accident. From what the driver says, they were together in a hotel in Ayers Street, and he died after he had been put in a carriage. In her terror, she was bringing him to Mr. Bentley." The doctor nodded. "Poor woman!" he said unexpectedly.
I hear a good deal about the exertions to which your papers go to be on the street first with extras, but I'll bet there has never been more voltage in the competition here than there was in Homeburg the night old man Ayers and young Simpson arrived at the post-office door at precisely the same second and got their baskets and themselves in a hopeless jam.
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