"Little do they realize the honor that is shortly to descend upon them," returned the Codfish, complacently. "I have some original ideas about steering a shell which will practically assure them of the race next June."
"And they are?"
"Why cast pearls before swine? The scheme will be revealed to you in due season," and the Codfish pulled a pad of paper toward him and began to scribble on it industriously.
"You didn't know, perhaps, that I've decided to go out for the News, did you?" said the Codfish, scratching away with his head tilted on one side.
"Aren't you a little late in the undertaking?" inquired Frank. "That is something of a job for even an intelligent man."
"For an ordinary intellect, yes, but for me a mere bagatelle, or bag-of-shells, as the ancients have it."
"Heeling the News means hours and hours of shacking," said Frank. "Have you seen those pale ghosts of heelers flitting around by day and by night on bicycles?"
"O, yes, that's the ordinary way, I know. I shall deal only in scoops, which, if you follow me, means a 'beat' on all the other fellows."
"It's a difficult business, sonny."
"On the contrary, a cinch. Watch your Uncle Dudley. Simply mind over matter. You boneheads wouldn't understand my reasoning processes if I explained, so why explain? But I say, when is David Powers expected in this burg?"