The reporter sat down to a typewriter, rapidly inserted a piece of paper and began to click out copy so fast that Larry wondered how he could see the keys. “I’ll carry the sheets to Mr. Emberg,” said Bud to Larry, “and you get ready to rush them to the tube.” This was done. As soon as Mr. Steifert had one paragraph written he pulled it from the machine and handed it to Bud, who ran with it to the city editor. The latter quickly glanced at it, corrected one or two slight errors, and passed it over to Larry, who fairly raced down the hall. When he came back another page was ready, and this was kept up until the story was all upstairs. Then Mr. Emberg proceeded to write a head for it and Larry carried that copy to the tube. “Just made that in time,” said the city editor, as Larry came back. “Now, Mr. Steifert, get ready a better and longer story for the next edition. You can take a little more time.” Matters became more quiet in the office after the first edition had gone to press. There were to be two more editions, and there still remained plenty of work to do. Once or twice Larry was sent to get proofs from the composing room and luckily he made no errors. It was getting on toward four o’clock when the last edition was getting ready to close. “Copy!” called Mr. Emberg, holding out a bunch of paper and not looking up to see who answered his summons. Larry ran and grabbed it and sped down the hall. Halfway down he was met by Peter, who also had some papers in his hand. “I’ll put that in the tube for you,” said Peter. “I’ve got some more to go in.” At first Larry hesitated. Then, thinking perhaps Peter wanted to make up for his recent unkind remarks, Larry gave him the copy and returned to the city room. A little later the big presses began thundering in the sub-cellar, and soon the first copies of the last edition were off and a boy brought several to the city room. “Here! What’s this?” cried Mr. Emberg suddenly, after a hasty glance over the paper. “Where’s that story about Alderman Murphy?” “I handed it to you,” said one of the reporters. “I know you did, Reilly. I handled it and put a display head on it. It went up in time, but it isn’t in. Who took that copy?” he asked, turning to the three boys who stood to one side of the room. No one answered for a second or two. “It was written on yellow paper,” went on Mr. Emberg. “I--I did,” replied Larry, wondering what was going to happen. “What did you do with it?” “I--I gave it to Peter,” faltered Larry. “You did not!” cried the other office boy, in an angry voice. CHAPTER VIII PETER IS DISCHARGED “Yes, I did,” replied Larry firmly. “I started down the hall with it as soon as Mr. Emberg gave it to me. You stood near the tube with some other copy and you said you’d send mine up for me.” “How about that, Peter?” asked Mr. Emberg. “I--I don’t remember anything about it,” said Peter. “I sent up my own copy; that’s all I’m supposed to do.”