“Of all the hot air,” he exploded, “I’ve listened to a prize assortment in the last hour and a half. I’m always getting stuck for some assignment like this.”
Tim had little sympathy to offer and Ralph went over to his typewriter and banged savagely at the keys.
At nine o’clock the boys decided to call it a day. Tim had written the last line of copy for his aviation department and Ralph had managed to finish his story on the dinner.
The air was raw and bitter when they reached the street and heavy clouds obscured the stars.
“Nasty night for the air mail,” commented Tim as he turned up the collar of his coat.
“Going to snow before morning,” predicted Ralph.
“Hope you’re wrong,” replied Tim. “We’ve had enough winter. I’m ready for spring.”
The young reporters walked to the corner where they boarded different street cars. Ralph started home and Tim went to his room.
Tim undressed when he reached his room, selected an interesting adventure novel, and stretched out on his bed to read. Lost in the thrilling exploits of the hero of the novel, he did not notice the passage of time. The coolness of the room finally aroused him and when he looked at the clock it was nearly midnight.
Tim got up and felt the radiator. It was cold and the wind was whistling in the eaves outside his window. He looked down into the street. Faint swirls of snow danced along the paving and while he watched the air became thick with snowflakes.