It was only a matter of time; Jimmy spotted a car with a portable typewriter. It was not as safe a take as his others, but he reported it. Jake's driver picked it up and got it out in a squeak; the car itself turned up to be no great find. Jimmy claimed the typewriter at once. Jake objected: "No dice, Jimmy." "I want it, Jake." "Look, kid, I can sell it for twenty." "But I want it." Jake eyed Jimmy thoughtfully, and he saw two things. One was a thousand-dollar reward standing before him. The other was a row of prison bars. Jake could only collect one and avoid the other by being very sure that Jimmy Holden remained grateful to Jake for Jake's shelter and protection. He laughed roughly. "All right, Jimmy," he said. "You lift it and you can have it." Jimmy struggled with the typewriter, and succeeded only because it was a new one made of the titanium-magnesium-aluminum alloys. It hung between his little knees, almost--but not quite--touching the ground. "You have it," said Jake. He lifted it lightly and carried it into the boy's little bedroom. Jimmy started after dinner. He picked out the letters with the same painful search he'd used in typing his getaway letter. He made the same mistakes he'd made before. It had taken him almost an hour and nearly fifty sheets of paper to compose that first note without an error; that was no way to run a railroad; now Jimmy was determined to learn the proper operation of this machine. But finally the jagged tack-tack--pause--tack-tack got on Jake's nerves. Jake came in angrily. "You're wasting paper," he snapped. He eyed Jimmy thoughtfully. "How come with your education you don't know how to type?" "My father wouldn't let me." "Seems your father wouldn't let you do anything." "He said that I couldn't learn until I was old enough to learn properly. He said I must not get into the habit of using the hunt-and-peck system, or I'd never get out of it." "So what are you doing now?" "My father is dead." "And anything he said before doesn't count any more?" "He promised me that he'd start teaching me as soon as my hands were big enough," said Jimmy soberly. "But he isn't here any more. So I've got to learn my own way." Jake reflected. Jimmy was a superior spotter. He was also a potential danger; the other kids played it as a game and didn't really realize what they were doing. This one knew precisely what he was doing, knew that it was wrong, and had the lucidity of speech to explain in full detail. It was a good idea to keep him content. "If you'll stop that tap-tapping for tonight," promised Jake, "I'll get you a book tomorrow. Is it a deal?" "You will?" "I will if you'll follow it." "Sure thing." "And," said Jake, pushing his advantage, "you'll do it with the door closed so's I can hear this TV set." "Yes sir." Jake kept his word.