“I would if he’d come,” replied Mr. Newton. “Don’t you wish you had an umbrella and a rain-shield bearer?”
“Don’t know but what I do,” rejoined the other, who was soaking wet. “Say, this is a corker, ain’t it? Got much?”
“Not yet. Just arrived.”
Suddenly, with a report like that of a dynamite blast, the whole top of the building seemed to rise in the air. An explosion of oils and varnishes used on pianos had occurred. For an instant there was deep silence succeeding the report. Then came cries of fear and pain, mingled with the shouts of men in the fiercely burning structure.
“I’ll need help on this story!” exclaimed Mr. Newton. “I wonder—— Say, Larry,” he went on, turning to the boy, “can you use a telephone?”
“Yes,” replied Larry, who had used one several times at Campton.
“Then call up the Leader office. The number’s seventeen hundred and eighty-four. Ask for the city editor, and tell him Newton said to send down a couple of men to help cover the fire. Run as if you were in a race!”
CHAPTER V
LARRY SECURES WORK
Larry handed over the umbrella and darted toward the sidewalk. He wiggled his way through the crowd, and went back to the lobby of the Flatiron Building, where he had noticed a telephone booth. Dashing inside he took off the receiver, and gave central the number of the Leader office. Then the girl in the exchange, after making the connection, told him to drop ten cents in the slot, for the telephone was of the automatic kind. In a few seconds Larry, in a somewhat breathless voice, was talking with the city editor of one of New York’s biggest newspapers.