“Don’t know but what I do,” rejoined the other, who was soaking wet. “Say, this is a corker, ain’t it? Got much?” “Not yet. Just arrived.” Suddenly, with a report like that of a dynamite blast, the whole top of the building seemed to rise in the air. An explosion of oils and varnishes used on pianos had occurred. For an instant there was deep silence succeeding the report. Then came cries of fear and pain, mingled with the shouts of men in the fiercely burning structure. “I’ll need help on this story!” exclaimed Mr. Newton. “I wonder---- Say, Larry,” he went on, turning to the boy, “can you use a telephone?” “Yes,” replied Larry, who had used one several times at Campton. “Then call up the _Leader_ office. The number’s seventeen hundred and eighty-four. Ask for the city editor, and tell him Newton said to send down a couple of men to help cover the fire. Run as if you were in a race!” CHAPTER V LARRY SECURES WORK Larry handed over the umbrella and darted toward the sidewalk. He wiggled his way through the crowd, and went back to the lobby of the Flatiron Building, where he had noticed a telephone booth. Dashing inside he took off the receiver, and gave central the number of the _Leader_ office. Then the girl in the exchange, after making the connection, told him to drop ten cents in the slot, for the telephone was of the automatic kind. In a few seconds Larry, in a somewhat breathless voice, was talking with the city editor of one of New York’s biggest newspapers. “What’s that?” Larry heard the voice at the other end of the wire ask. “Newton told you to call me up? Who are you? Larry Dexter, eh? Well, what is it? Big fire, eh? Explosion? Fifth Avenue and Broadway? All right. I’ll attend to it.” Then, before the city editor hung up the receiver of his instrument Larry heard him call in sharp tones: “Smith, Robinson! Quick! Jump up to that fire and help Newton. Telephone the stuff in! We’ll get out an extra if it’s worth it!” Then came a click that told that the connection was cut off, and Larry knew that help for his friend, the reporter, was on the way. The boy hurried from the booth and ran again toward the crowd that was watching the fire. There were more people than ever now on the scene, but Larry managed to make his way through them to where the same policeman stood that had let himself and the reporter through the lines once before. Larry resolved to find his new friend. He slid close up to the officer. “I’m helping Mr. Newton, the reporter for the _Leader_,” the boy said to the bluecoat. The policeman looked down, recognized Larry, and said: “All right, youngster, go ahead. Only get a fire badge next time or I’ll have to shut you out.” But Larry was not worrying about the next time. He was rejoicing that he had gained admittance through the lines, and was close to the fire, which was now burning furiously.