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Updated: May 22, 2025
Indeed I doubt whether the major ever comprehended that first commandment of the prentice reporter's catechism. Devore, himself no grand and glittering success as a newspaper man, nevertheless had mighty little use for the pottering, ponderous old major. Devore did not believe that bricks could be made without straw. He considered it a waste of time and raw material to try.
It seems that her parent had served with distinction as colonel of a North Carolina regiment. And he wound up with a fancy flourish and handed it in. I know all these details of his story, because it fell to me to rewrite it. Devore didn't say a word when the old major reverently laid that armload of copy down in front of him.
He was cheered when some friend of his world who had met Jack in the garb of his caste, as fitted by Burleigh, would say: "Fine, strapping son you have there, Wingfield!" He was abashed and dumfounded when Jack announced that he had taken Mamie Devore, who sold culinary utensils in the basement, out to luncheon with her "steady company," Joe Mathewson, driver of one of the warehouse trucks.
He jerked his head down for a quick look at the letter on his desk, then looked up again. "And I'll expect a report from you by tonight that you've got the matter taken care of." DeVore looked at his superior expressionless for a heartbeat. He had been given peculiar orders before, and he'd always managed to work out the problems involved. But this was the ultimate.
In rapid succession a number of unusual events occurred in the Evening Press shop the next morning. To begin with, the chief came down early. He had a few words in private with Devore and went upstairs.
August sixth we left San Francisco and arrived at Fort D.A. Russell in the evening of August ninth. Companies K and M were under the command of Captain Delair, who is a good officer. Captain Devore had command of Company K, to which I then belonged and I remained with that company until discharged.
Demain vient, et nous laisse encore plus malheureux. Quelle est l'erreur, helas! du soin qui nous devore, Nul de nous ne voudroit recommencer son cours. De nos premiers momens nous maudissons l'aurore, Et de la nuit qui vient nous attendons encore, Ce qu'ont en vain promis les plus beaux de nos jours," &c. It is in these detached passages that the English have hitherto excelled.
Through that summer he kept the major on the payroll solely because the chief so willed it. But, though he might not discharge the major, at least he could bait him and bait him Devore did not, mind you, with words, but with a silent, sublimated contempt more bitter and more biting than any words.
There were four of us in all Devore, who had elected to be in direct charge of the detail; Ike Webb, our star man, who was to handle the main story; I who was to write the running account and, fourthly and lastly, Major Putnam Stone.
His right hand shot into his coat pocket, then, quick as a snake, came out again, showing the fat fist armed with a set of murderously heavy brass knucks, and he bent his arm in a crooked sickle-like stroke, aiming for Devore's left temple. I've always been satisfied and so has Devore that if the blow had landed true his skull would have caved in like a puff-ball. Only it never landed.
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