In another chair, near by, sat Dave Darrin, who dropped in to
speak with his chum, and was now waiting until they could stroll
down Main Street together.
"I've just thought of something I want to do, Dick," muttered
Dave suddenly. "I'll jump out and attend to it, now. Walk down
Main Street, when you're through, and you'll run into me."
Prescott, nodding, went on with his writing, turning out page
after page. Then he rose, placing the sheets on News Editor Bradley's
desk.
"I'm pretty sure you'll find it all right, Mr. Bradley," declared
Dick. "Now, I must get home, for I'm due in bed in half an hour."
"Training and newspaper work don't go well together," laughed
the news editor. "However, your football season will soon be
over. This time next year you'll be through with High School,
and I hope you'll be with us then altogether."
"I don't know about that, Mr. Bradley," smiled Dick, picking up
his hat and starting for the door. "But I do know that I like
newspaper work mighty well. When a fellow is writing for a paper
he seems to be alive all the time, and right up to the minute."
"That youngster may come to us for a while, after he gets out
of High School," called Mr. Pollock, across the room, after Prescott
had, gone out. "But he won't stay long on a small daily. A youngster
with all his hustle is sure to pull out, soon, for one of the
big city dailies. The country towns can't hold 'em.
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