Part 8 (1/2)

I don't know why, but that's what I did. I knew the mail wasn't supposed to arrive until later, and vaguely I wanted to ask what had happened to all the old equipment. But I just went over and looked at the mail box, like Mr. Jones suggested. I opened the first letter. Three dollars dropped out. Letter number two another three bucks. Automatically I opened letter after letter, until the floor was covered with currency. Then I imagined I looked up piteously at Mr. J.

”Subscriptions, m'boy, subscriptions. I hurried the delivery a bit, so you'd be pleased. But that's just a start. Wait'll tomorrow, d.i.c.k. This office will be knee-deep in money!”

At this point I finally did begin to think I was crazy.

”What is all this about, Jones? _Please_ tell me, or call the little white wagon. Am I going soggy in the brain?”

”Come, come! Not a bit of it! I've merely fulfilled my promise. Last night you told me that you were unhappy because the _Courier_ wasn't selling. Now, as you can see, it _is_ selling. And not only in Danville. No sir, the whole world will want subscriptions to your paper, Richard, before I'm through.”

”But you don't understand, Jones. You just can't make up a lot of news and expect to get by with it. It's been tried a hundred different times. People are going to catch on. And you and me, we're going to be jailed sure as the devil. Do you see now what you've done?”

He looked at me quizzically and burst out laughing.

”Why, d.i.c.k, you _don't_ understand yet, do you! Come now, surely you're not such a dunce.

Tell me, exactly what do you think?”

”Merely that an old man stepped into my life last night and that my life has been a nightmare ever since.”

”But beyond that. Who am I and why am I here?”

”Oh, I don't know, Mr. Jones. You're probably just a friend of Dad's and thought you could help me out by this crazy scheme. I can't even get angry with you anymore. Things were going to h.e.l.l without you--maybe I can get a job on the prison newspaper.”

”Just a queer old friend of Elmer's, eh? And you think I did no more than 'make up' those headlines. You don't wonder about this press--” he waved his cane toward the large machine which had supplanted the roll-your-own--”or how the papers got delivered or why they look so professional? Is that press your imagination?”

I looked over at the machine. It was nothing I'd ever seen before. Certainly it was not anordinary press. But it was real enough. Actual papers were popping out of it at the rate of two or three a second. And then I thought of that photograph.

”My G.o.d, Jones, do you mean to tell me that you're--”

”Precisely, my lad, precisely. A bit rusty, as I said, but with many a unique kick left.”

He kicked his heels together and smiled broadly.

”Now, you can be of no help whatever. So, since you look a bit peaked around the face, it is my suggestion that you go home and rest for a few days.”

”That news ... those things in the paper, you mean they were--”

”Absolutely factual. Everything that is printed in the _Danville Daily Courier_,” he said gaily, ”is the, er, the gospel truth. Go home, d.i.c.k: I'll attend to the reporters and editors and the like. When you're feeling better, come back and we'll work together. Perhaps you'll have a few ideas.”

He put another sheet in the typewriter, rested his bushy chin on the head of the cane for a moment, twinkled his eyes and then began typing like mad.

I staggered out of the office and headed straight for Barney's Grill. All I had was beer, but that would have to do. I had to get drunk: I knew that.

When I got to Barney's, the place was crowded. I ordered a beer and then almost dropped it when the waiter said to me: ”You certainly were right on the ball, Mr. Lewis, you and your paper. Who'd a'ever thought the Mayor's wife would have a hippopotamus? Yes sir, right on the ball. I sent in my subscription an hour ago!”

Then Mrs. Olaf Jaspers, a quiet old lady who always had her coffee and doughnut at Barney's before going to work at the hospital, said: ”Oh, it was certainly a sight to see. Miz Lindquist is just as proud. Fancy, a hippopotamus!”

I quickly gulped the beer.

”You mean you actually saw it, Mrs. Jaspers?”

”Oh my yes,” she answered. ”I was there all the time. We can't any of us figure it out, but it was the cutest thing you ever did see. Who was that old fellow that took the picture, Richard? A new man?”

Everyone began talking to me then, and my head swam around and around.

”Mighty quick of you, Lewis! You've got my subscription for two years!”

”Poor Burl never did catch those pesky dragons. Ate up every one of his turnips, too.”

”You're a real editor, Mr. Lewis. We're all going to take the _Courier_ from now on. Imagine; all these funny things happen and you're right there to get all the news!”

I bought a case of beer, excused myself, went home and got blind drunk.

It was nice to wake up the next morning, because, even though my head split I felt sure this was every bit a dream. The hope sank fast when I saw all the beer bottles lying on the floor. With an empty feeling down below, I crawled to the front door and opened it.

No dream.

The paper lay there, folded beautifully. I saw people running down the streets, lickity split, toward Main Street.

Thinking was an impossibility. I made for the boy's room, changed clothes, fixed some breakfast and only then had the courage to unfold the issue. The headlines cried: EXTRA!! Underneath, almost as large: S.S. QUEEN MARY DISCOVERED.

ON MAIN STREET.

An unusual discovery today made Danville, U.S.A., a center of a world-wide attention. The renowned steam s.h.i.+p, the S.S. _Queen Mary_, thought previously to be headed for Italy enroute from Southampton, appeared suddenly in the middle of Main Street in Danville, between Geary and OrchardAve.

Imbedded deep in the cement so that it remains upright, the monstrous vessel is proving a dangerous traffic hazzard, causing many motorists to go an entire mile out of their way.

Citizens of Danville view the phenomenon with jaundiced eyes, generally considering it a great nuisance.

Empty whiskey bottles were found strewn about the various decks, and all of the crew and pa.s.sengers remain under the influence of heavy intoxication.

In the words of the Captain, J.E. Cromerline: ”I din' have a thing to do with it. It was that d.a.m.ned navigator, all his fault.”

Officials of the steam s.h.i.+p line are coming from London and New York to investigate the situation.

Continued on page 20 That's what it said, and, so help me, there was another photograph, big and clear as life.

I ran outside, and headed for Main Street. But the minute I turned the corner, I saw it, There, exactly as the paper had said, was the _Queen Mary_, as quiescent and natural as though she'd been in dock. People were gathered all around the giant s.h.i.+p, jabbering and yelling.

In a dazed sort of way, I got interested and joined them.

Lydia Murphy, a school teacher, was describing the nautical terms to her cla.s.s, a gang of kids who seemed happy to get out of school.

Arley Taylor, a fellow who used to play checkers with Dad, walked over to me.

”Now, ain't that something, d.i.c.k! I ask ya, ain't that something!”

”That, Arley,” I agreed, ”is something.”

I saw Mr. Jones standing on the corner, swinging his cane and puffing his cigar. I galloped over to him.