"I have," said Perner. "It offers twenty-five dollars' worth of books and a trip to the Holy Land for one year's subscription." "That's it! That's the paper!" laughed Barrifield. "But our paper won't be a religious paper, will it, old man?" asked Livingstone, anxiously. "Not in the sense of being ecclesiastic. It will be pure in morals and tone, of course, and, at the same time, artistic and beautiful--such a paper as the 'Youth's Friend,' only larger in its scope. It will, as I have said before, appeal to the whole family, young and old, and that is another improvement we'll make on Frisby's scheme." "What's the price of Frisby's paper?" asked Perner. "Two dollars a year. Poor matter, poor pictures, poor paper, poor printing, poor prizes, and two dollars a year. We'll give them high-class matter, high-class pictures, fine printing, beautiful paper, splendid prizes, all for one dollar a year; and that's where we'll make the third and great improvement on Frisby's scheme." "But how'll you do it without money, Barry? That's the improvement we want," laughed Livingstone. "That," said Barrifield, letting his voice become a whisper once more--"that isn't an improvement. _That's Frisby's scheme!_" II FRISBY'S SCHEME Barrifield lighted a fresh cigar and blew more smoke into the air. "Frisby told me himself," he said drowsily, and apparently recalling certain details from the blue curling wreaths. "I lent him money and helped him into a position when he first came here, and he's never forgotten it. He held the position five years and learned the publishing business. Then he started the 'Voice of Light.' He did it without a dollar. He told me so." Livingstone leaned forward eagerly. "But I say, old man, how did he do it, then?" "Nerve. Nerve and keen insight into humanity. The 'Voice of Light' had been started by some fellows who had spent all their money trying to build it up on the old lines and failed completely. They had tried to sell out, but nobody would have it. They had no assets--nothing but debts. "Then they tried to give it away. They tried a good while. Frisby heard of it at last, and went over and said they might give it to him. They did it. He didn't have a dollar. "He had some good clothes, though, and he put them on. He put on the best he had, and he went over to the printers. The 'Voice' owed them a good bill, and they were glad to hear the paper had changed hands. Their account couldn't get any worse, and Frisby's clothes and manner indicated that it might become better. He told them he contemplated getting out at once a special edition of a million copies. He intimated that if they couldn't handle such a number of papers he would be obliged to arrange for them elsewhere. They almost hugged Frisby's knees to keep him from going. He didn't have a dollar--not a dollar.