It was once too often, and the chief's had it in for you ever since.
You remember?"
Channing screwed up his lips in an effort of recollection.
"Yes, I remember," he answered, slowly. "It began on New Year's eve
in Perry's drug-store, and I woke up a week later in a hack in
Boston. So I didn't have such a run for my money, did I? Not good
enough to have to pay for it like this. I tell you," he burst out
suddenly, "I feel like hell being left out of this war, with all the
rest of the boys working so hard. If it weren't playing it low down
on the fellows that have been in it from the start, I'd like to
enlist. But they enlisted for glory, and I'd only do it because I
can't see the war any other way, and it doesn't seem fair to them.
What do you think?"
"Oh, don't do that," protested the World manager. "You stick to your
own trade. We'll get you something to do. Have you tried the
Consolidated Press yet?"
Channing smiled grimly at the recollection.
"Yes, I tried it first."
"It would be throwing pearls to swine to have you write for them, I
know, but they're using so many men now. I should think you could get
on their boat.
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