Mark Tidd, Editor Part 18

In about two jerks of a lamb's tail we were through the hedge and out of sight. Rock sauntered out of the arbor as if nothing had happened, and we saw Jethro stop and talk to him with a scowl. Then we hurried back to town.

CHAPTER IX

During the next few days we were pretty busy getting ready for the next issue of the _Trumpet_, so we didn't get to see Rock, and Mark didn't have a minute to study out that puzzle about the cat and what color is a brick and all that. Things didn't go along as smooth this time as they did before. Mark said it was because the novelty had worn off. We got some advertising, but there weren't any full pages, and we didn't get in half a dozen subscriptions, so that when the paper was printed we were just about out of money again.

Our paper, printed with patent insides, as they call them, had to be paid for at the express office before we could get it, and Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat had had to buy a new pair of pants on account of some trouble with a dog while he was out walking one evening, and ink cost money. You haven't any idea what a lot it takes to print a paper.

Well, we got it out all right, and then started to sell it. But this time Spragg was right on hand with his Eagle Center _Clarion_, and had kids selling it just like we sold the _Trumpet_, only he sold his paper for three cents, while we had to get five or bust.

And this time he had more Wicksville news, though we still beat him there. But folks will buy cheap even if what they're getting isn't so good as what costs a little more. The result of the whole thing was that we got left with a hundred papers on our hands, and that was pretty bad.

It was Spragg that did it.

When we knew just how we'd come out we had a meeting in the office to see what to do about it.

"If we could only git rid of Spragg," says Tallow.

"Yes," says I, "he's messin' up the whole show."

"S-sounds easy," says Mark. "How'd you goat it?"

We looked at one another but n.o.body had any ideas.

"Might sick a dog on him," says I.

"We might get out an Eagle Center edition of the _Trumpet_," says Plunk.

Well, there was an idea and we talked it over, but it wasn't long before we saw that wouldn't do. We had our hands full now without monkeying with Eagle Center.

"If," says I, "we could only fix it so's folks here didn't want anything to do with Eagle Center-"

"Binney," says Mark, "_there_ is an idee. Start a t-town row. Get folks here to hatin' Eagle Center. Make a sort of war, eh? Fine. Now," says he with a grin, "all we got to do is f-figger out how to do it."

"If that Eagle Center paper would only talk mean about Wicksville," says I.

"It won't," says Mark; "they're after Wicksville b-business."

He sat back and pulled at his ear like he does when he's thinking hard, and whistled a little, and reached for his jack-knife and whittled some.

Pretty soon he whacked his leg and says he's got it.

"Well?" says I.

"We'll go to Eagle Center," says he, "and interview a b-b-bunch of folks, and sort of get 'em to talk about Wicksville. Bet we can f-fix it so's they make fun of this town. Then," says he, "there's that old b-business of the trolley line from the city, which might go through here and m-might go through Eagle Center. What made me think of that was that a s-surveyor got off'n the train to-day, and I asked him what he was up to, and he says he was goin' over the right of way that was laid out a couple of years ago."

"Um!" says I. "Sounds promisin'."

"We'll t-try it," says Mark. "Binney, you and I will go over in the m-mornin'."

So next morning over we went.

I never saw anything so easy. Mark says that folks would rather make fun of somebody or something, whether they've got any reason for doing it or not, than to work and make money, and I guess he's right.

As soon as we began talking about Wicksville they up and sailed into it like they had been waiting for the chance for years. Of course we helped things along by bragging a little and by making a few comparisons that didn't favor Eagle Center any. But it didn't take much urging. Why, we could have got enough interviews to fill the paper twice, and any one of them, when they stood out in print, was enough to make the whole population of Wicksville take off its coats and roll up its s.h.i.+rt-sleeves and start right over to give Eagle Center a walloping.

When we had all we wanted we started back for home, and planned out how we'd use it, and the way we planned was the one that would do the most good, you bet.

"Now," says Mark, "if we just had some sure news about that t-trolley line."

"We hain't," says I.

"No," says he, "but if Plunk and Tallow'll git out and tag around after that s-surveyor we'll git some. Just hang around him and ask questions, but don't l-let on you're newspaper men. Just be kids."

So off they went.

They found out that surveyors were going over both routes-the one through Wicksville and the one through Eagle Center. It seems like the company was keeping pretty quiet about the whole thing, but from what Plunk and Tallow could gather, it was pretty sure the trolley line was going through some place.

Well, there was big news, and if Spragg didn't get hold of it it would be bigger than ever.

We set right to work getting things in shape for the next paper, and called in Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat to tell him all about it and get him to fix up the paper so it would look exciting. He got the idea right away.

"Will Tec.u.mseh A. Spat dress up this paper? You may take it, young gentlemen, from an authority, that he will. It is an opportunity. This town shall see what a paper with a real story in it should look like. We will hammer them in the eyes with type. We will make our pages leap out to meet them. Ah, this is an occasion such as delights the heart of a compositor and make-up man. I revel in it. Trust me, gentlemen, and you shall not be disappointed."

And we weren't. All we had to do was write the stuff and give it to Tec.u.mseh. Why, he hardly took time to eat or sleep! He was that tickled with himself he almost busted out of his clothes, and we had to keep going hard or he'd have run right away from us.

It was two days before we got the stories all written-the trolley line and what Eagle Center thought of Wicksville. Then we did a little advertising of our own. Mark wrote the signs.

The first one, printed in big type and tacked up in front of our office, went like this:

WICKSVILLE INSULTED

Never were such things said about a town without blood being shed.

Has Wicksville any pride?

You bet it has pride.

READ ABOUT IT IN THE NEXT WICKSVILLE "TRUMPET"

Every word printed was actually uttered.

What will you do about it?

Then we printed about twenty little signs that said:

Where is Wicksville's civic pride?

Will it stand by to be insulted?

Read the insults in the Wicksville _Trumpet_.