“Several of these are big merchants,” said Potter, pointing them out with inky forefinger; “though the contracts have run out the appearance of their ads lends the Kicker a certain moral support–the little fellows don’t know that they are not paid for and it draws their business.”
“We don’t care for that kind of business,” smiled Hollis; “we’re going to run a real newspaper. We’re going to get paid ads!”
“I hope so,” hesitatingly replied Potter.
“Of course you do,” laughed Hollis; “but whether we get paid ads or not this newspaper is coming out regularly and on time. Furthermore, we’re going to cut down on this plate stuff; we don’t want a paper filled with stale articles on snakes, antedated ocean disasters, Egyptian monoliths, and the latest style in opera hats. We’ll fill the paper with local news–we’ll ginger things up a little. You are pretty well acquainted here–I’ll leave the local items to you. What town near here compares with Dry Bottom in size?”
“There’s Lazette,” returned Potter; “over in Colfax County.”
“How far from here?”
“Eighty miles.”
“Got a newspaper?”
“Yes; the Eagle.”
“Bully! Step on the Eagle’s toes. Make the Eagle scream. Get into an argument with it about something–anything. Tell Lazette that as a town it’s forty miles behind Dry Bottom. That will stir up public spirit and boom our subscription list. You see, Potter, civic pride is a big asset to a newspaper. We’ll start a row right off the reel. Furthermore, we’re going to have some telegraph news. I’ll make arrangements for that to-day.”