“They say that novelists’ methods of work differ very much. Some men begin to write with nothing but the main idea in their minds, and let the thing develop as they go along. Those are the men who write and rewrite, and cut and add and change, till at last there is hardly anything left of the original. I know one celebrated writer who rewrote a novel six times, and it was very bad when he finished it. “That plan would not do for me. I must have everything perfectly mapped out before I begin; so well in hand that I could write the last chapter first, or the middle one, or do any scene or conversation without reference to the rest. I don’t think it is because I am too lazy to rewrite; more likely my newspaper training has taught me to gather all my material up and sort it out before I pick up the pen.” There was time to collect facts for several good articles in Key West before he could start; for Key West is unique among cities. The most southerly point in the United States, most of its inhabitants are Cubans who work in the big cigar factories, and their ways of life are distinctly Cuban. Then the isolated position of the place, on a tiny island miles from the continent, makes it almost a land to itself, with many strange customs not to be found elsewhere. Dick found that he could return to New York either by the direct steamer or by the Plant System boat to Tampa, and thence by rail up the Atlantic Coast. He promptly chose the latter way, not only because it was much faster, but also on account of the opportunity it gave him to see more of the country. “I cannot see too many places,” he reflected, “if I am going to write novels; and I am certainly going to try. If I should have occasion to write about Tampa or Jacksonville or Charleston or Richmond, it would be necessary to know something about those places. This rail ride will ‘enlarge my field of action,’ as Darling would say.” After a beautiful voyage up the smooth Gulf of Mexico the steamship landed him in Tampa, and there he found a through train ready to carry him to New York. For scores of miles through Florida the tracks ran between orange groves; and as the trees were white with blossoms, the air was perfumed with their delightful fragrance. Into Georgia the train carried him, then across South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, into Pennsylvania, and at last across New Jersey to Jersey City. Washington was a sore temptation to him to stop, for he felt that he ought to become familiar with the National Capital. But none knew better than Dick that a newspaper’s order to “come home” does not mean come next week, or the day after to-morrow, but come at once. There might be work of the utmost importance waiting for him. It was seven o’clock in the evening when the train arrived in Jersey City, and Dick went directly to the Transport office to report his return.