For six months or so Jimmie Curwood continued with his writing of his childish though well-meant blood and thunder stories, stories which he believed were truly fine.
It really did not matter to him upon what kind of paper he set his stories down, just so long as they were written. He would pick up wrapping paper and cut it into squares, or else if nothing else was available he would write his stories on tissue paper which came in shoe boxes.
As fast as he would complete one of his “swift moving, red-blooded yarns,” he would carefully file it away as best as any young schoolboy could possibly do. Writing was in his blood and it was taking complete possession of his every thought and action.
It was only after he had completed some twenty “thrillers” that he brought the entire stack down from his room and asked his parents if he might read his stories to them. There naturally was no hesitation on their part, for they were anxious to see their youngest child pursue a career such as he was now doing. So for several hours Jimmie’s parents were silent as their “pride and joy” went on with his avid reading. That night the boy read through the entire stack of manuscripts, taking some three hours and a half to complete the job. When he had finished his father walked over to him at the far end of the long kitchen table.
“You’re going to get there, Jimmie boy, you’re going to get there. Just you keep at it!”
The boy smiled, for those few words of encouragement meant a great deal to one who wanted to be a great writer.
He silently picked up his stories, went to his room and filed them away again. Hardly five minutes had elapsed before he was back at his improvised desk to start work on a new story.
At twelve-thirty that night the boy at last put away his pencils and his papers and went to bed. Rather late for a young, growing boy to retire, but his heart and soul were really in his newly-found work. With the coming day he was to have one of his greatest childhood surprises.
In the next day’s mail came the wonderful news that Jimmie’s sister Amy, who had remained behind in her own home in Owosso when the family had gone to Ohio, was coming to visit them. Since he had not seen Amy for a long time he was indeed overjoyed at the prospects of her home-coming. Three days passed until she at last arrived. Only a few short seconds after she had entered the house, Jimmie remarked: