In the morning Dick found the city editor making remarks to the reporters, as usual, about their articles. “Well done, well done, Mr. Banks;” or perhaps, “You made too much of that burglary story, Mr. Black.” His turn came almost as soon as he entered the room. “You did a good thing yesterday, Mr. Sumner,” was the greeting. “I see none of the other papers have your story about the Vice-President’s peril. I suppose there were other reporters at the meeting?” “Oh, yes, sir,” Dick answered; “five or six others. We all heard the story at the same time, but perhaps none of the others used it.” “Then you showed a better news sense than any of them,” Mr. Brown retorted, “for such a story as that is news.” Dick was pleased with himself and all the world that morning, but it surprised him a little to find that he still got the same unimportant assignments--trivial meetings, things that an errand boy could have done equally well. This went on for so many days that he began almost to think there was not much use in taking advantage of an opportunity after all. But when he found such thoughts in his mind he held a little conversation with himself, for he did not like it. “Now hold on to the ropes and keep pulling, Dick Sumner!” he said to himself. “Don’t be a baby. Better work is coming by-and-by. If one or two good pieces of work don’t bring it, then three or four will, or five or six. Do the best you can; and if you begin to grumble, I’ll be ashamed of you.” He was always among the first to arrive at the office, perhaps because he had no great fancy for staying alone in his dismal little furnished room; and one morning when he entered he was the very first reporter, and only the city editor was at his desk. “I thought you would be the first man here,” Mr. Brown said. “You are generally early, Mr. Sumner, and I am glad that this time your promptness is to be rewarded. I am going to give you an assignment of great importance this morning, because I know you will do it faithfully, and I think you will do it well. It is a job that would naturally go to Mr. Randall, because he does all our Sing Sing work; but he is out of town to-day, and I am going to entrust it to you.” Dick merely answered “Yes, sir;” but the announcement filled him with wonder. An assignment of great importance! A job that would naturally go to Mr. Randall--to Jack Randall, the best reporter and best writer in the office! He could hardly believe that he was to have a chance at such work. “Here is a dispatch just received from Sing Sing prison,” the city editor went on, “saying that four prisoners escaped this morning by stealing a locomotive. You understand that the New York Central Railroad runs through the prison grounds through a deep open cut in the rock. There are bridges across the cut, and every morning some of the prisoners are taken over the bridges to work in the quarry.” “Yes, sir,” Dick repeated. He had read of this, though he had never visited Sing Sing.