“Because I know it,” came the answer from the one who had first spoken. “There’s going to be an ordinance introduced in the Common Council soon. Now all we have to do is to buy up all the lots——” What followed was in a low tone, and Larry could not hear. Then the voice went on: “It’s a great game, for it will take our votes to pass the ordinance, see?” “Won’t there be some danger?” asked someone. “Not a bit. There’s only one hitch. I’ve been looking the thing up, and I find that the most valuable strip of land in the whole tract is owned by some man up New York State.” “Who is he?” “Something like Pexter or Wexter,” was the reply, whereat Larry felt his heart beating strongly. Suppose it should happen to be the land for which his mother held the deed? “Can we put the deal through?” several asked of the man who was doing the most talking. “Sure we can,” was the answer. “Alderman——” “Hush! Not so loud!” cautioned a voice. “Close that transom,” ordered someone, and then Larry moved away, fearing the men might come out, and find him listening. He wanted to know more of the matter, for he felt sure some underhanded game was afoot. That afternoon, on the way home, Larry told Mr. Newton of what he had heard. “I’ll bet there’s some sort of a deal on,” said the older reporter. “Glad you happened to overhear that, Larry. I’ll get busy on the tip, and maybe we can block the game.” CHAPTER IV ON A CHOWDER PARTY “I’ve got a little trip out of town for you, Larry,” said Mr. Emberg the next morning. “There will not be much work attached to it, unless something unexpected happens.” “What sort of an assignment is it?” asked Larry. “The Eighth Ward Democratic Club is going to have an outing to Coney Island,” replied the city editor. “It’s a clam chowder party, and, while it is mainly to give the members of the association a good time, there may be some politics discussed.” “I’m afraid I don’t know much about politics,” answered Larry, somewhat doubtful of his ability to cover that kind of an assignment. “You’ll never learn any younger,” was Mr. Emberg’s rejoinder, as he smiled at Larry. “Get me a good story of what the men do, and I guess you’ll not miss much. There are going to be some games down at the beach, in the afternoon, races and so on, that may make something funny to write about.” Mr. Emberg gave Larry a ticket to the chowder outing, and told him where to take the boat. “You’re in luck, kid,” remarked one of the older reporters, as he saw the “cub” start on his assignment. “How so?” asked Larry. “Why, there’s nothing to do except enjoy the trip, eat a good dinner, and sit off in the shade in the afternoon. It’s one of the few decent things we fall into in this business.”