“But will this be fair?” he asked himself as he went down the street to meet the friend who was to drive him to the railway. “I was sent out to report the governor’s visit for The Russellville Record, and will it be fair for me to write an account of the accident for some other paper?” It was a very proper question for him to ask, and fortunately his editor was on hand to answer it. He was walking up the street that Dick was walking down. “It’s a very bad accident, sir,” Dick hurriedly said; “the governor’s thigh is broken and his head is injured. Would it make any difference to you, Mr. Davis, if I should take an account of it to one of the New York papers?” “Not the least in the world!” the editor replied, smiling; “it’s a good idea. Go ahead, my boy, and they’ll pay you for it.” At twelve o’clock, midnight, Dick was in New York city, having stopped a moment at home to explain the situation; and ten minutes later he was in front of The Daily Transport office. He had passed the building often before, but never at midnight; and when he saw the row of bright lights all across the third and fourth stories, and the men at work in the brilliant counting-room below (enough men, it seemed to him, to write and print the paper themselves), he began to feel a little timid about going in. “Pshaw!” he said to himself after hesitating a moment outside; “I have something to sell that I’m sure the paper wants to buy. Anyhow, I don’t believe they’ll eat me in there.” When he inquired for the editor at one of the counting-room windows, the nearest clerk raised his head from his work long enough to nod toward the stairway, and to say:-- “Third story!” This was surprise number one for Dick. Here was a great New York office without an elevator, and with long dark stairs to climb! It was his favorite paper, too; the best of them all, as he thought, and he was rather disappointed. But he climbed the stairs, one long flight and two shorter ones, and went through an open doorway into a blaze of light. It was an immense room that he found himself in, with long rows of desks and chairs and electric lights innumerable, and larger desks at the farther end by the front windows. A small space about the entrance door was enclosed with a railing. Thirty or forty men sat at the desks; a few writing, some reading newspapers, others grouped together and talking in low tones. Everything was as calm as a May morning. This was surprise number two. The paper must go to press certainly in an hour or so, yet all these men were as unconcerned as though they were writing for a monthly magazine. And where were the messenger boys, rushing excitedly in and out, bearing important dispatches from all parts of the world? Not a messenger did he see. Why, there was more excitement in The Russellville Record office on publication day. An office boy stood in front of him inquiringly, and Dick said that he had some news for the editor.