“I must see these boys to-night—at once if possible. Can you bring them to me? To this office?”
“Certainly,” replied the night city editor without a falter or a doubt in his voice. “I’ll go myself.”
“Get them if you can; it is important.”
Without a question Mr. Latimer hastened doorward. Stewart arose to follow him. The managing editor waved Buck to his seat again.
“I want you to tell me the story you wrote to-night: all you know about this new airship.”
Buck now made up his mind that, whatever might be the meaning of the managing editor’s sudden interest in his aeroplane story, it was not directed toward him personally either in the way of commendation or criticism. Something had developed the possibility of a bigger “beat,” the manager had suggested. As the reporter received the order to tell the whole story he reseated himself. He also had a new thought: “This means something good,” he said to himself, “and while I’m talking I’m not goin’ to forget Buck Stewart. If something is to come out of this I want to be in on it.”
Before he could begin his story his chief executive resumed, suddenly:
“These Airship Boys—did you see them?”
“No,” replied the reporter. “I was totin’ lumber in the yards—”
“You are from the south?” interrupted his listener.