I've thought maybe I might get a chance sometime as a sort of
local correspondent around here," was the diffident reply.
Gardner repressed a grin. Manzanita would hardly qualify as a news
center. Diplomacy prompted him to state vaguely that there was always a
chance for good stuff locally.
"On a big story like this," he added, "of course there'd be nothing
doing except for the special man sent out to cover it."
"No. Well, I didn't write my--what I wrote, with any idea of getting it
printed."
The newspaper man sighed wearily, sighed like a child and lied like a
man of duty. "I'd like to see it."
Without a trace of hesitation or self-consciousness Banneker said, "All
right," and, taking his composition from its docket, motioned the other
to the light. Mr. Gardner finished and turned the first sheet before
making any observation. Then he bent a queer look upon Banneker and
grunted:
"What do you call this stuff, anyway?"
"Just putting down what I saw."
Gardner read on. "What about this, about a Pullman sleeper 'elegant as a
hotel bar and rigid as a church pew'? Where do you get that?"
Banneker looked startled. "I don't know. It just struck me that is the
way a Pullman is."
"Well, it is," admitted the visitor, and continued to read.
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