“All right. She’s a great nag, if you can keep your saddle. But I guess I’d better tell Kennedy you’re not coming.”
Without rising, Billy leaned back and took up Bruce’s desk telephone, and soon was talking to the prosecuting attorney. After a moment he held out the instrument to the editor.
“Kennedy wants to speak with you,” he said.
Bruce took the ’phone.
“Hello, that you Kennedy?... No, I can’t come—too busy. Suppose you run over here.... Got some people there? Well, bring ’em along.... Why can’t they come? Who are they?... Can’t you tell me what the situation is?... All right, then; in a couple of minutes.”
Bruce hung up the receiver and arose.
“So you’re going after all?” asked Billy.
“Guess I’d better,” returned the editor, putting on his coat and hat. “Kennedy says something big has just broken loose. Sounds queer. Wonder what the dickens it can be.” And he started out.
“But how about your celebration story?” queried Billy. “Want it to go down?”
Bruce looked at his watch.