The proprietor of the _Chronicle_ smiled at the boy approvingly. “I like that suggestion, young man. It shows that you have self-confidence--a most valuable asset in the newspaper business. I have a good mind to put you to the test, right now. Suppose I were to send you out on a trial assignment, which would give you a chance to prove to me that you have sufficient ingenuity and nerve?” “That’s a good idea, governor,” exclaimed the younger Gale, with great enthusiasm. He turned and winked at Miggsy. “As the old saying goes, ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Send Mr. Miggles out on a trial assignment right now, with the understanding that if he covers it successfully he starts right in to cover police for the _Chronicle_ at a salary of--what will the salary be, governor?” “Oh, I guess we’ll start him at fifteen dollars a week,” replied the elder Gale carelessly. “With rapid advancement if he proves deserving, of course.” Miggsy’s eyes glistened. He could scarcely believe that he was not dreaming. His wages on the _Bulletin_ were three dollars a week. The thought of earning five times that much, and of being a reporter instead of an office boy, quite took his breath away. “Just try me, sir!” he exclaimed eagerly. “All I ask is a chance to show what I can do.” “Very well, my boy,” said the proprietor of the _Chronicle_, with a benevolent smile, “you shall have that chance.” He stroked his white mutton-chop whiskers meditatively. “Let me see, now; what assignment shall we give him? Can you suggest one, my son, that will be an adequate test of his nerve and ingenuity?” His son shrugged his shoulders. “I prefer to leave it to you, governor,” he said. The elder Gale gazed up at the ceiling for a few moments. Then, as though he had found an inspiration there, he turned to his son with a chuckle. “I have it!” he exclaimed. “Suppose we send him to get those _Bulletin_ pictures?” “The very thing,” declared the younger Gale enthusiastically. “That certainly will be a fair test of Mr. Miggles’ ability. It is definitely understood, governor, that if Mr. Miggles makes good on this assignment he is to cover police for us, at a salary of fifteen dollars per week.” “Certainly; that is the agreement. Explain to the young man, my son, exactly what he has to do.” CHAPTER XXII. THE TRAITOR. Miggsy’s eyes opened wide with astonishment as he listened to what the younger Gale had to say. From the expression which came to the boy’s face it was evident that the proposition was exceedingly distasteful to him. “But I couldn’t do that, gents,” he protested. “Really, I couldn’t. Can’t yer make it something else?” The elder Gale shook his head deprecatingly. “It is just as I feared,” he muttered. “The young man is lacking in nerve. I am afraid, my son, that he isn’t quite qualified to cover police for the _Chronicle_.”