Mr. Curry led the way to one of the presses, pointing to a roll of paper mounted on a feeding rack.
“That one is about half used up,” he said. “Will it do?”
“Yes, I guess so,” agreed Penny. “May I have it right away?”
Mr. Curry replied by pushing a tram along a miniature railway which ran under the press. With surprising skill, he maneuvered the roll into position on the carrier. Then he pushed the tram to the elevator, moved the portable paper lift over the roll, and up it went to the platform. The elevator grounded at the first floor where the paper was rolled to the loading dock with pry bars.
“There you are,” said the foreman.
“All I need now is a truck,” Penny cried exultantly. “Thanks, Mr. Curry!”
Standing guard beside her paper she waited until one of the Star drivers had finished unloading his cargo and was ready to pull from the dock.
“How’s chances fer a ride, buddy?” asked Penny, jerking her thumb in the manner of a hitch-hiker. “Me and my paper to the Weekly Times.”
“Okay,” laughed the trucker.
He rolled the paper onto the truck, and Penny climbed into the cab beside him. At the Times building she had the roll set off at the rear entrance where Old Horney easily could get it to the press room.