"Well, look here, boys, what's the use of getting mad about this? You're working on something, just as I'm working on a newspaper. You've got a good story somewhere about you and I'd like to have it. What's the matter with being good fellows and loosening up?"
"Because it is purely a business matter in which the public would be too much concerned if it knew what we were doing."
"Well, whatever it is, it's good—I know that," replied the young journalist, laughing, "and I'm sorry I'm not in it with you—special car—flowers—traveling like railroad presidents. I'm on. But, say, when this thing breaks I'd like to be in on the yarn. I was lying. I never heard of you before the train pulled in. But you know the railroad people are on. They told me you had a black case marked 'Explosive.' That's all I know. Say, couldn't you tell me this—are you going through to the coast?"
Ned relented a little.
"Perhaps," he said smiling, "we might go to the coast."
"You might?" interrupted the reporter eagerly.
"Or we might stop in the mountains."
The reporter looked perplexed.
"Then you've got something to do with mining?" interrupted the impulsive journalist, "and it isn't the navy yard. But you came from Washington! I know that, you see."
"Yes," volunteered Ned, "but we might be from the Hydrographic Office."