“That will hardly do for us. It is probably for railroad messages only. You must find a regular place, where they will take press copy. When you do, come back to the hotel and I’ll meet you there.” After spending a little while looking at the river and reservoir Larry went on his errand. By inquiring he located a Western Union office, and made arrangements with the operator. “Only I’ll not guarantee anything,” said the man in charge. “No telling when the wires may go down and out of business. I’ll send stuff as long as I can, and then I’ll have to quit.” CHAPTER XXXI DAYS OF TERROR Larry went back to the hotel to report to Mr. Newton. He did not find him there, and so walked around in the corridor. The men were gathered in groups, talking of nothing but the storm and the danger. “Worst I ever see in fifty years,” said one old man. “I remember the year Deacon Stout’s old gray mare died the waters riz so high they floated my barn, by gosh, but that wa’n’t nothin’ to this.” “She’s goin’ t’ rage an’ tear things apart,” said his neighbor. Other men were saying much the same thing. In one corner Larry saw a woman crying, while others were trying to comfort her. “I can’t help it,” said the weeping one. “The waters washed away our house and we’ve lost everything we had in the world.” “Never mind, it’s lucky you and the children were saved,” spoke some of those about her. “When did the house wash away?” asked Larry, thinking this might be some news for Mr. Newton to put in his story. “A little while ago,” replied one of the women. “It was down quite close to the river, and these people wouldn’t move out when their neighbors did. They came near being drowned when the waters rose suddenly. Men had to rescue them in boats.” Larry asked several more questions, getting the name of the rescued ones, and the location of the house. He wrote the incident up as well as he could on some paper he procured from the hotel clerk. “What’s this?” asked Mr. Newton, when he came in half an hour later, and Larry handed him the sheets. “Just a little something I picked up around the hotel, and thought might go in the story,” replied the boy. “Good for you!” exclaimed the reporter. “You’re the kind of a helper to have. Did you arrange about the telegraph?” Larry repeated what the operator had said, and then Mr. Newton started to write his story. He used what Larry had given him, fixing it up a bit, and soon had quite a batch of stuff ready to be telegraphed. Larry took it over to the office, and, while he was gone, Mr. Newton continued to write. By the time Larry returned the reporter had another batch ready. “There,” he said as he rubbed his aching fingers, “I guess that will be enough for to-day unless something breaks loose. Now, after you come back from the office, we’ll have dinner.”