But I can't say the things,
because I can't see the things that Charlie sees. Why, one night we
sent him out on a big railroad-story. It was a beat, we'd got it by
accident, and we had it all to ourselves, but Charlie came across a
blind beggar on Broadway with a dead dog. The dog had been run over,
and the blind beggar couldn't find his way home without him, and was
sitting on the curb-stone, weeping over the mongrel. Well, when
Charlie came back to the office he said he couldn't find out anything
about that railroad deal, but that he'd write them a dog-story. Of
course, they were raging crazy, but he sat down just as though it was
no concern of his, and, sure enough, he wrote the dog-story. And the
next day over five hundred people stopped in at the office on their
way downtown and left dimes and dollars to buy that man a new dog.
Now, hard work won't do that."
Keating had been taking breakfast in the ward-room of H. M. S.
Indefatigable. As an acquaintance the officers had not found him an
undoubted acquisition, but he was the representative of seven hundred
papers, and when the Indefatigable's ice-machine broke, he had loaned
the officers' mess a hundred pounds of it from his own boat.
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