The High School Left End | Page 6

further, you can have Darrin drive in with anything that you've struck up to the minute. Hustle, both of you. And, Darrin, we'll pay you for your trouble tonight."
Horse and buggy were soon at the door. Dick sprang in, picking up the reins. Dave leaped in at the other side. The horse started away at a steady trot.
"I hope those boys have brains enough not to go right past the story," mused Bradley, gazing after the buggy before he went back to his desk. "But I guess Prescott always has his head squarely on his shoulders. He does, in school athletics, anyway. Len Spencer is the man for this job, so of course Len had to be laid up with a cold and fever that would make it murder to send him out tonight."
Horse and buggy were soon at the door. Dick sprang in, picking up the reins. Dave leaped in at the other side. The horse started away at a steady trot.
"I hope those boys have brains enough not to go right past the story," mused Bradley, gazing after the buggy before he went back to his desk. "But I guess Prescott always has his head squarely on his shoulders. He does, in school athletics, anyway. Len Spencer is the man for this job, so of course Len had to be laid up with a cold and fever that would make it murder to send him out to-night."
"Dick," muttered Dave excitedly, "you've simply got to make good. This isn't simply a little paragraph to be scribbled. It's a mystery and is going to be the sensation of the day. This is the kind of story that full-fledged reporters on the great dailies have to handle."
"Yes," laughed Dick, "and those reporters never get flurried. I'm not going to allow myself any excitement, either."
"No, but you want to get the story---all of it."
"Of course I do," Prescott agreed quietly.
"If you do this in bang-up shape," Dave went on enthusiastically, "it's likely to be the making of you!"
"How?" queried Dick, turning around to his chum.
"Why, success on a big story would fairly launch you in journalism. It would provide your career as soon as you're through High School."
"I don't want a career at the end of the High School course," Dick returned. "I'm going further, and try to fare better in life."
"Wouldn't you like to be a newspaper man for good?" demanded Dave.
"Not on a small-fry paper, anyway" replied Prescott. "Why, Bradley is news editor, and has been in the business for years. He gets about thirty dollars a week. I don't believe Pollock, who has charge of the paper, gets more than forty-five. That isn't return enough for a man who is putting in his whole life at the business."
"Thirty dollars has the sound of pretty large money," mused Dave. "As for forty-five, if that's what Mr. Pollock gets, look at the comfort he lives in at his club; and he's a real estate owner, too."
"Yes," Dick admitted. "But that's because Pollock follows two callings. He's an editor and a dealer in real estate. As for me, I'd rather put all my energies into one line of work."
"Then you believe you're going to earn more money than Pollock does?" questioned Dave, rather wonderingly.
"If I pick out a career for income," Dick responded, "I do intend to go in for larger returns. But I may go into another calling where the pay doesn't so much matter."
"Such as what?"
"Dave, old fellow, can you keep a secret?"
"Bosh! You know I can."
"A big secret?"
"Stop that!"
"Well, I'll tell you, Dave. By and by there are going to be, in this state, two appointments to cadetships at West Point. Our Congressman will have one appointment. Senator Alden will have the other. Now, in this state, appointments to West Point are almost always thrown open to competitive examination. All the fellows who want to go to West Point get together, at the call, and are examined. The fellow who comes off best is passed on to West Point to try his luck."
"And you think you can prove that you're the brightest fellow in the district?" laughed Dave good-humoredly.
"There are to be two chances, and I think I can prove that I'm one of the two brightest to apply. And Dave!"
"Well?"
"Why don't you go in to prove that you're the other brightest fellow. Just think! West Point! And the Army for a life career!"
"I think I'd rather scheme to go to the Naval Academy, and become an officer of the Navy," returned Dave slowly. "The big battleships appeal to me more than does the saddle of the cavalryman."
"Go to Indianapolis?" muttered Dick, in near-disgust. "Well, I suppose that will do well enough for a fellow who can't get to West Point."
"Now, see here," protested Dave good-humoredly, though warmly, "you