“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Broke down?”
“Naw,” the one lone printer informed him. “I’m finished.”
“No, you ain’t!” Flournoy informed him. “Come in here a minute!”
Wonderingly, the printer entered the office. Flournoy handed him the sheet of paper on which he had been writing.
“How much space will that take in your paper?” the sheriff asked.
The printer finished reading, broke into a loud laugh, and answered:
“About two sticks.”
“All right,” Flournoy grinned. “You set that up, take some article of the same length out of your paper, and put mine in its place. Then run me off three copies.”
Half an hour later the printer entered the office with three damp copies of the Tickfall Whoop and pointed to the contribution which Flournoy had furnished.
“These three papers are all you ran off?” the sheriff asked.