“It is Hammond,” supplied Hollis. “I’ve been thinking of him. I knew his son in college. I am going to write to him.”
He turned to his desk and took up a pen, while Potter resumed his work of distributing type.
About half an hour later Jiggs Lenehan strolled into the office wearing a huge grin on his face. “’Pears like everybody in town wants to read the Kicker to-day,” he said with a joyous cackle. “Never had so much fun sellin’ them. Gimme some more,” he added breathlessly; “they’s a gang down to the station howlin’ for them. Say,” he yelled at Hollis as he went out of the door with a big bundle of Kickers under his arm, “you’re cert’nly some editor man!” He grinned admiringly and widely as he disappeared.
Hollis finished his letter to Hammond and then leaned back in his chair. For half an hour he sat there, looking gravely out into the street and then, answering a sudden impulse, he rose and strode to the door.
“Going down to the court house,” he informed Potter.
He found Judge Graney in his room, seated at the big table, a copy of the Kicker spread out in front of him. At his appearance the Judge pushed back his chair and regarded him with an approving smile.
“Well, Hollis,” he said, “I see Dunlavey has played the first card.”
“He hasn’t taken the first trick,” was the young man’s quick reply.
“Fortunately not,” laughed the judge. He placed a finger on a column in the Kicker. “This article about the Cattlemen’s Association is a hummer–if I may be allowed the phrase. A straight, manly citation of the facts. It ought to win friends for you.”
“I’ve merely stated the truth,” returned Hollis, “and if the article seems good it is merely because it defends a principle whose virtue is perfectly obvious.”