Ellis Hinton laughed shortly, and spun the nickel across the imposing stone. Jap caught it deftly. An hour later he appeared for work, smiling cheerfully.
"Why the shiner?" queried Ellis, indicating a badly swollen and rapidly discoloring eye.
"Kid called me red-top," said Jap bluntly.
"Love o' gracious," Ellis exclaimed, "what is the shade?"
"It's red," quoth Jap, "but it ain't his business. If I am agoin' to be a editor, nobody's goin' to get familiar with me."
This was Jap's philosophy, and in less than a week he had mixed with every youth of fighting age in town. The office took on metropolitan airs because of the rush of indignant parents who thronged its portals. Ellis pacified some of the mothers, outtalked part of the fathers and thrashed the remainder. After he had mussed the outer office with "Judge" Bowers, and tipped the case over with the final effort that threw him, Jap said, solemnly surveying the wreck:
"If I had a dad like you, I'd 'a' been the President some day."
Ellis gazed ruefully into the mess of pi, and kicked absently at the hell-box.
"I'll work all night," cried Jap eagerly. "I'll clean it up."
"We'll have plenty of time," said Ellis gloomily. "We have to hit the road, kid. Judge Bowers owns the place. He has promised to set us out before morning."