Forgotten now was any thought of enjoying himself in rest and recreation on his vacation. The newspaper man remains a newspaper man for a long time, only because he loves the game. And "game" is what the newspaper man who belongs, calls it. Those who do not belong get out of it sooner or later. On a big story he does not think of food, drink or hours. In the absorption of a big story he can and does continue without rest an unbelievable number of hours, subject himself to relentless physical strain. In doing so he enjoys it, as he does nothing else. He exemplifies perfectly the statement by the philosopher that there is no greater joy on earth than the one found in work. Hardly anyone, in any other occupation puts in the hours, the work, the loyalty for so little financial reward as does the newspaper man. Jimmy's connection with his office was quickly made. Hite's few sentences were short, sharp, barking ones. Hite was keyed up to the highest pitch. By this time a call had gone out and he had enough men to handle all phases of the story. Hite gave some brief orders, made some caustic comment and switched the wire to Roy Heath's desk. Even this individual's speech was not now the lazy drawl it habitually was. The tremendous scope of the story, the tense feverish activity on the part of Hite at the desk near him infected even Roy Heath. Jimmy knew without being there that since the moment he had hung up the receiver on his first call, Hite and the rest of the staff had been in a frenzy of activity. Jimmy could picture it as though he were there, Hite barking orders to men and office boys at his elbow and at men and women perhaps hundreds and thousands of miles away. Jimmy could picture the stream of men and women and boys parading before his desk for orders. Jimmy could picture him perhaps talking into three telephones almost simultaneously; to the composing room, to a member of the staff somewhere in the Metropolitan area and to a correspondent many miles away. Far and wide over the entire country, lapping over into foreign countries ranged the newspaper net that was thrown out for information. This information, arriving at the office, would be weeded out. The wheat would be separated from the chaff; the usable stuff would be licked into shape and Roy Heath and two other rewrite men would transform it into living, dramatic, racing, pulsating recital. With only a faint trace of his lazy drawl, Roy said: "All right, Jimmy, shoot it fast. Story waitin' for a new lead." Jimmy poured into his ears the newest developments of the story; Professor Brierly's search and his conclusions. Jimmy concluded with: "About the New York end now, Roy. About Schurman and Wrigley--" "We're coverin' that, Jimmy. Schurman committed suicide, I guess, and about Wrigley, nothin' to that. He was drowned. He--"