"I suppose we couldn't buy a press second-hand and do our own printing," ruminated Paul.
"Buy a press!" shouted Carter, breaking into a guffaw. "You are a green one, Kip, even if you are class president. Why, man alive, a printing press that's any good costs a small fortune—more money than the whole High School has, all put together. I know what presses cost because my father is in the publishing business."
Paul sighed.
"That's about what my dad said," he affirmed reluctantly. "He suggested we get someone to print the paper for us."
"Oh, we could do that all right if we had the spondulics."
"The subscriptions would net us quite a sum."
"How much could we bank on?"
"I've no idea," Paul murmured.
"I'll bet I could nail most of the Juniors. I'd simply stand them up against the wall and tell them it was their money or their life—death or a subscription to the—what are you going to call this rich and rare newspaper?" he inquired, suddenly breaking off in the midst of his harangue and turning to his companion.
"I hadn't got as far as that," answered Paul blankly.