“Oh, I guess we’ll start him at fifteen dollars a week,” replied the elder Gale carelessly. “With rapid advancement if he proves deserving, of course.”
Miggsy’s eyes glistened. He could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming. His wages on the Bulletin were three dollars a week. The thought of earning five times that much, and of being a reporter instead of an office boy, quite took his breath away.
“Just try me, sir!” he exclaimed eagerly. “All I ask is a chance to show what I can do.”
“Very well, my boy,” said the proprietor of the Chronicle, with a benevolent smile, “you shall have that chance.” He stroked his white mutton-chop whiskers meditatively. “Let me see, now; what assignment shall we give him? Can you suggest one, my son, that will be an adequate test of his nerve and ingenuity?”
His son shrugged his shoulders. “I prefer to leave it to you, governor,” he said.
The elder Gale gazed up at the ceiling for a few moments. Then, as though he had found an inspiration there, he turned to his son with a chuckle.
“I have it!” he exclaimed. “Suppose we send him to get those Bulletin pictures?”
“The very thing,” declared the younger Gale enthusiastically. “That certainly will be a fair test of Mr. Miggles’ ability. It is definitely understood, governor, that if Mr.[Pg 45] Miggles makes good on this assignment he is to cover police for us, at a salary of fifteen dollars per week.”
“Certainly; that is the agreement. Explain to the young man, my son, exactly what he has to do.”