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Updated: June 10, 2025
Just the main facts!" "Are you Mr. Stuart's square chin went out. "I came up to see him personally," he answered. "That's the way to get an interview, my son," he said. "All right, I'll take you in to the Chief. If things don't go your way, come and see me before you go. I might try you on space, just to see how you shape. Dinville generally knows what he's talking about."
The disorderliness, the sense of tension, the combination of patient waiting and driving speed, the distant and yet perceptible smell of type metal and printers' ink, in short, the atmosphere of a newspaper, struck him with a sense of desire. The latter looked up quickly. "Are you the boy Dinville cabled about?" "Yes, sir," the boy answered. "Ever do any reporting?" "No, sir." "What's this story?
He had spruced up a little, though the four dollars he had got from Dinville the night before was not sufficient for new clothes. "Say," he said, the minute he entered the office, "Mr. Dinville, I've got a corker!" "So?" queried the reporter, lighting a cigar and putting his feet on the desk in comfortable attitude for listening. "Fire away!"
"The kid may be able to write some day," and dropped the sheets into the waste-paper basket. Why had he paid for them, then? Dinville knew what he was about. He reached for a sheet of copy-paper and wrote the following dispatch He filed it in the cable office without delay. Before midnight he got a reply.
"I wish you'd been here half-an-hour ago, Dinville, and saved me from having to listen to a blood-and-thunder yarn about pirates and plots and revolutions and the deuce knows what!" the official exclaimed petulantly. "From that kid who just went out?" queried the newspaper man casually, nosing a story, but not wanting to seem too eager. "Yes, the little idiot!
Nicholas would be a menace to us, and one on which Washington would not look very kindly. "So you see, Youngster, if such a thing as this were possible, it would be a big story, and one that ought to be followed up very closely." "That's what Dinville seemed to think, sir," interposed the boy, "and I told him I didn't have the money." "Money isn't any good, if you don't know how to use it."
Inventing, for the moment, a piece of news which would turn the topic to Haiti, Dinville succeeding in making the boy tell him, as though by accident, that he had recently been in Haiti. "So!" exclaimed the reporter. "Well, you seem to be a pretty keen observer. What did you think of things in Haiti when you left?"
Dinville led him on, cautiously, tickling his vanity the while, and, before the meal was over, Stuart felt that he had found a friend. He accepted an invitation to go up to the news office, so that his recently made acquaintance might take some notes of his ideas.
"Here," said Dinville aloud, as he read the cablegram, "is where Little Willie was a wise guy in buying that kid's story. He'll land in here tomorrow like a bear going to a honey-tree." His diagnosis was correct to the letter. Early the next morning Stuart came bursting in, full of importance.
Dinville read it, corrected a few minor mistakes here and there, counted the words, and taking some money from his pocket, counted out a couple of bills and pushed them over to the boy. "What's this for?" asked Stuart. "For the story!" answered the reporter in well-simulated surprise. "Regular space rates, six dollars a column. I'm not allowed to give more, if that's what you mean."
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