The following day, acting on the suggestion of his friend, Herbert made the rounds of the city hospitals. The usual routine stories presented themselves at all of these institutions; but most of them were covered by staff men, and for that reason were not available for a special space-writer. While Herbert was pondering over what was best to do under the circumstances, it suddenly dawned on him that perhaps the obvious thing might make the best story after all. Things that were happening every day in the week were looked upon as being trite and trivial. If he could take one of these incidents and lift it out of the rut and make it stand toweringly above other incidents of a like character he would make a hit. To think was to act. He went to the head keeper in the next hospital and asked to look over the book of records. Among the items inscribed there was one which told about a patient who had attempted suicide, but whose life would be saved. Herbert asked whether he could obtain the details of this story, and was told that if he applied to one of the assistants in the main ward he might obtain some additional information. He did obtain more facts, and he hurried to the office, eager to write the story. The heading was “How a Trained Nurse Defeated Death.”
The introduction described how a demure little nurse in the hospital who looked as if she might weigh not more than one hundred pounds, started on a walking match against death at five o’clock in the evening, and finished at six o’clock in the morning—a winner. The story went on and told how the ambulance had brought a twenty-two year old girl to the hospital after she had swallowed enough opium to send three or four strong men to their death. The poor, misguided girl who had taken the poison on account of a case of unrequited love, showed a strong desire to go to sleep. The little nurse knew that if the girl closed her eyes they would never again open in this world; so she tried to keep her awake by slapping her on the back.
That method was not strenuous enough, so the long walk was started. It was up and down the corridor of the receiving ward, and out into the hall and the yard. Whenever the nurse became tired she sat down to rest for a moment; but as soon as the girl nodded the walk was resumed. All through the lonesome hours of the night this unique feat of pedestrianism was continued. Daylight appeared, and still the walk went on. Finally the clock struck six, and the two women were still walking. Shortly after that the house physician made his appearance, and giving the girl a careful examination, pronounced her out of danger. Then, and not until then, the nurse went to sleep, and even while Herbert was writing his picturesque story she was still sleeping the sleep of the just and the brave.
His story made over a column in the Argus. It proved to be a palpable hit. Blakeley, the city editor, who did not see it until he picked up the paper the next morning, gloated over it with the glee with which a miser examines a newly found diamond. He patted Herbert on the back and said that if he continued to turn in stories of that character his period of probation would be short indeed and his permanence on the paper assured.
But the best feature of the incident, to Herbert’s mind, came on Friday afternoon, when he called at the business office and received a check for $8 for his piece of special reporting. This gave him a total cash balance of $10 and enabled him to pay his board bill and to look forward with confidence to the coming of his regular pay-days.
CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH HERBERT IS GIVEN AN UNUSUAL OPPORTUNITY TO DISTINGUISH HIMSELF
After he had been on the Argus for about a month, Herbert felt entirely at home. He managed to get along very smoothly with all the members of the staff. Blakeley, the city editor, was especially pleased with the new addition to his local force. He found that he was punctual, industrious and anxious to do his work to the very best of his ability. The other reporters at the same time looked on him as an agreeable fellow who was willing to do them a good turn whenever he had the chance to do so. At the end of his second month on the paper he was gratified at the receipt of an unsolicited increase in his salary. His particular friend on the Argus, Francis Tomlin, obtained a promotion at the same time; and the two young men put their heads together and decided to seek a pleasant room near the office. After a search that consumed nearly all the idle hours of a whole week, they finally obtained an apartment which had the added advantage of a neat and well kept bath-room. Herbert lost no time in removing his effects from the modest quarters which he had occupied since his first arrival in New York. The two young men were together very much, and the fact that they were employed at night and had many hours of leisure during the day gave them the chance of strolling about the city or seeking amusements together at a time when most other men were busily engaged in their trades and professions.
The new room, which was comfortably furnished in the first place, rapidly grew more habitable through the skill and good taste of the two reporters. The gift of a set of books from home first gave Herbert the idea of accumulating a library. Tomlin joined with him, and in a surprisingly short time they were the possessors of quite a valuable little library which counted among its principal assets several important books of reference.
One day Herbert was delighted to receive a visit from Mr. Anderson, who had been his school-teacher for so many years in Cleverly. In honor of the event he begged off from the office for the night, and secured a similar privilege for Tomlin. The three men sat in the room till long past midnight, chatting about books and newspapers and other topics of a congenial nature. Mr. Anderson told the story of “barring out day” at the school in Cleverly, and the recital was done so well that it filled Tomlin with delight and caused him to laugh with such heartiness that the tears fairly ran down his cheeks.
On another occasion a little later in the year Noah Brooks, the editor of the Cleverly Banner, visited New York, and while in the city was the guest of Herbert Harkins. The young man was very much pleased at the thought of entertaining the veteran editor, who had been such a good friend to him in Cleverly. He took Tomlin into his confidence, and between them they planned a program which kept Mr. Brooks engaged every minute of the day and night during his four days’ stay in the metropolis. In fact Herbert exhausted his resources in showing the visitor what he was pleased to call “the time of his life.” As the three men walked along Broadway together, Mr. Brooks looking up at the high buildings on either side of him, said musingly: