The boys swung over to Elm street, and the Codfish handed in two articles at the News office, and then went along with his friends. "It always gives me a feeling of deep exhaustion to see those heelers working so hard on that sheet."
"Do they work hard?" inquired Frank.
"Work hard! Great fishes of the vasty deep, they put in an amount of hours that ought to make you football fellows blush with shame, if you could blush. The ordinary news-heeler doesn't have time to eat his meals."
"You don't cut out many, I notice," laughed Jimmy.
"Yes, but I'm not the ordinary kind."
"I've heard you say that before."
"These other fellows chase little bits of things for news' sake, while I create news for my sake. Get the difference?"
"Right—O," said Frank. "You created some the other day—some bone news."
"'Still harping on my daughter,' as one William Shakespeare said some moons since? Can't you give that a rest and turn your mind to the present? Never worry about the dead past, is my motto. Even Napoleon made mistakes, to say nothing of Turner, eh Jimmy?"
Reaching the Pierson room, the Codfish threw himself into a big chair and sighed luxuriously. "Great day's work. Although I started late on this competition I must be nearly up to the leader now, and a little more hustling will shoot me to the front."