The days passed quickly. Johnnie learned rapidly. Jimmy had few assignments of an exciting nature. His luck seemed to have deserted him. He carried pictures, transported reporters, covered a few unimportant stories. Time hung heavy on his hands. Meantime the autumn passed and winter came. It came with a rush and it came early. Almost over night the balmy days of Indian summer changed into days of fierce winds and icy chill. From all parts of the country came reports of intense cold. Almost in a twinkling navigation in the north was tied up. The lakes and streams were frostbound and frozen. Steamers were caught in the ice, far from land. Suffering was intense. Deaths were reported in many quarters, due to the cold. Isolated lighthouse keepers and the dwellers on remote islands were cut off from communication. In many of these isolated places food and medicine ran low. The weather itself, with the attendant difficulties of travel, the deaths, the hardships, all consequent upon the intense cold and the deep snow and ice, became a leading story. Day after day, belated tales of freezing, hardship, death, heroic rescues, blizzards, storms, and other phases of the weather, or stories incident to the abnormal cold, came trickling belatedly into the office. The managing editor watched this news with growing interest. He had lived, in his younger days, on the very northern border of the country and even in Canada. He knew what these periods of cold and storm meant to the people living in isolated places. And so, when one day there came a belated despatch to the _Press_, saying that a feeble wireless message had been received by a boy wireless operator in Smithville, in northern New York, telling of the plight of people on a neighboring island, in Lake Ontario, the managing editor was filled with both interest and sympathy. The island was absolutely cut off from communication with the mainland by the terrible ice, food was running low, and a whole family was dying of pneumonia because of the lack of certain medicines. “It’s really a story for the Montreal or Rochester papers to cover,” thought Mr. Johnson, “but up to this time they haven’t done it. If we could slip in there ahead of them, we’d not only do some real good, but we’d bring a lot of credit to the _Morning Press_. I believe I’ll see how it looks to Donnelly.” He called Jimmy on the telephone and told him about the situation. “Do you think you could reach the place safely with your plane?” he asked. “Let me look at my maps before I answer you,” said Jimmy.