Mark Tidd, Editor Part 44

"Who's the man?" says all of them at once.

"Uncle Ike Bond," says Mark, with a little grin. "He's just got home from a visit."

"Uncle Ike! ... Uncle Ike!" yelled everybody, and started to push the old 'bus-driver to the front.

"Hey!" says he. "Hey, Mark Tidd, what I ever done to you I should be got into this? I hain't goin' to. No, siree. You don't git _me_ decidin' no sich fight. I got respect for my skin. If I was to decide this here, why, I'd have to lick every husband on the side I was decidin' ag'in'.

Not that I can't do it-but I hain't as spry and eager as I was once. No, siree," says he, and he made a jump sideways, and scrambled up onto the window-sill, with fifty folks grabbing after him, and out he jumped.

Well, that finished _that_.

Mark was laughing inside like everything. "There's another m-man here,"

says he. "He's big enough so's n.o.body's husband'll be anxious to t-t-tackle him. He's _doggone_ big," says Mark, "and t-there he stands.

Mr. Armitage is his n-name," says Mark.

_Armitage!_

You could have knocked me galley-west with a feather. I seen it all in a minute.

"Mr. Armitage," says Mark, "won't you s-s-step forward and-"

"Risk my life?" finishes up the big man that was standing by Rock.

"Why," says he, "I'll step forward and say something, and when I get through maybe you ladies will be willing to let things stand as they are-and glad to."

He came surging up forward, and stood there, big and quiet, looking down on everybody.

"First," says he, "I want to tell you something about myself." It was funny, but they quieted right down and listened. Not a yell or a holler.

"After that," says he, "I want to read you a piece in the Wicksville _Trumpet_, the best country paper in America," says he, and at that Mark and us kids swelled all up.

"I'm a happy man," says he, "because, after a dozen years, I've got my son back again. In that dozen years," he says, "I've been working and fighting and starving and risking death for my son, but maybe it would have been better if I'd stayed home and got a job and been right by his side. But there was a time when I was sore in my heart because his mother died." He stopped just a second. Then he went on. "I couldn't bear to stay still, so I put my little son in a school and went off to Alaska. I thought I'd find gold there, but I didn't find enough. After that I went to South America and to Africa and to China, and all over the world, always keeping my son in schools, and not seeing him nor scarcely ever writing to him. But I loved him just the same-like a father ought to. But I was set on coming home to him rich, so he'd be proud of me. That was wrong. I know it now. He'd have been proud of me anyhow, because he's that kind. Well, I thought I was dying, and sent a friend to take my son to a man that should have looked after him-and that man died, but I got well. Today I came back and found my son, and saw him for the first time since he was in dresses. I found he had made friends, four friends, who had done for him more than I had ever done.

These friends had worked for him. These friends had found him alone in a big house, practically a prisoner, not knowing who he was or why he was there. My boy was in a bad mix-up, I can tell you. And I was far away.

Well, these four friends, just out of the goodness of their hearts, went to work, and solved the mystery that was surrounding my son, and proved who he was, and have put him in the way of being heir to a great deal of money. Not that _that_ matters now, for I found my mine at last and have ten times as much as Mr. Wigglesworth-"

He stopped. "But here's to-day's _Trumpet_. Let me read to you the real story. Then I want to say to you ladies that this contest has come out just the way it should have. It has proved that neither side is better than the other. It has proved that Wicksville ought to be proud of you, and that you ought to be so proud of each other that you'd join together and not be Home Culturers or Literary Circlers, but just one big club-The Wicksville Women's Club, with everybody a member and working hard for the benefit of the town and of everybody in it."

Then he read, slow and emphatic, the story of Rock. He read how we had found him, and about all we had done, and about the paper Mr.

Wigglesworth left, and about how we had got the paper. And-this was news to all of us but Mark-that Rock was Mr. Wigglesworth's grandson, and Rock's mother was Mr. Wigglesworth's daughter, who had married Mr.

Armitage against her father's will, and he wouldn't ever have anything to do with her again.

Well, people's eyes almost popped out of their heads when they heard what had been going on right under their heads. When Mr. Armitage was done reading he laid his hand on Mark's shoulder and says, "Here's the boy that puzzled it out."

"Binney and Plunk and Tallow did as m-m-much as me," says Mark.

"Yes," says Mr. Armitage, turning to us, "and I want to thank them, publicly, too. Four of the squarest, nerviest, cleverest boys I ever saw."

"And now," says he, "what do you ladies think? Won't it be better to have one big club, working for the good of everybody, than two clubs pulling against each other?"

Mrs. Strubber looked at Mrs. Bobbin and Mrs. Bobbin looked back; then-and there was streaks down their faces where the tears had been running-they got up all at once and walked toward each other and shook hands.

That ended _that_.

But us fellows had a hard time getting away. Everybody wanted to shake hands and have us tell about it, and taffy us, but we did wriggle through, with Rock and his father following us, and sneaked to the office. And there we had a regular reunion. I tell you Mr. Armitage was a fine man, and he had a mess of adventure stories to tell that just lifted the hair off from your head.

Best of it is he's going to live here with Rock on the Wigglesworth place.

We talked a long time, and then went home to bed.

CHAPTER XXIII

In the newspaper was another piece that was interesting to a lot of people, besides the piece about Rock. It was one Mark wrote about a daily newspaper such as Spragg was trying to get up. Mark had written to everybody he could think of that would know about it, and got facts and figures, and set them right down in print where everybody could see.

He showed how much it would cost to _start_ such a paper. He showed how much it would cost to run it a year, and how much it would have to be paid for advertising, and how much for subscriptions, and how many subscribers it would have to have to live at all.

Then he proved the thing that upset Spragg's apple-cart-that the merchants wouldn't get their advertising for nothing, but that they would have to advertise six days a week instead of one, and that, even dividing up what profits there were, the merchants would have to spend about five times as much as they ever had before, not counting in what they put into the scheme to start it.

Well, when the business men read that article, and saw who Mark got his information from and all, they were pretty sick, because they had already gone into it and put up quite a lot of money. Some of them came in to see Mark, but he said he wouldn't talk then, but would wait till the meeting that night.

That's what he did. We all went to it. Spragg was there, looking pretty sick, and Lawyer Jones went with us. First Spragg raved and talked, but it didn't do any good. They had formed a company, and Spragg had _some_ money in it, as well as anybody else. He didn't like to see the way things were going. And besides, he wasn't getting even with Mark.

Then Mark got up and repeated some of his figures, and ended up by saying:

"You've g-g-got up a company to run a n-newspaper, so why don't you run one? We f-f-fellers has got to go back to school, but we've built up the _Trumpet_ so's it's a _good_ paper, with fifteen hunderd subscribers, and it's m-makin' good money. Now, why don't you buy it, you b-business men, and run it for the benefit of Wicksville and yourselves? Hire a good editor and give this county the b-b-best newspaper in the State.

It's all ready. All you got to do is t-take it over. We'll sell cheap."

"How much?" says. Mr. Pawl, who was the chairman.

"Well," says Mark, "we got our p-plant and stock, that's worth s-somethin'. We got fifteen hunderd subscribers, and that's worth a lot, for they've got a year to run, and we've got cash in the bank. About twelve hunderd d-d-dollars. I'll tell you what. Give us t-t-two thousand dollars, and we'll call it a deal."

Well, they figgered, and Lawyer Jones figgered with them, and Mark figgered with them, until at last they agreed, and a contract was made and signed sayin' the money would be paid over next day. Then Mark says:

"You're goin' to n-need an editor right off. You got a n-newspaper man here. Maybe he hain't acted jest right to us, but for all that, maybe he's a good man. Why d-don't you give Spragg a chance at b-bein' editor?

He's worked to git up this company of yourn. It'll be up to him to make good."

Spragg looked queer at Mark, but didn't say a word till the meeting decided to give him a try. Then he walked over to Mark and says, holding out his hand:

"What you just did, Mark Tidd, is a mighty fine thing, and I'm going to deserve it. And if you're ever looking for a friend come to me-Spragg."

That was all.

And so I guess that's about all of everything. We sold out for two thousand dollars, which Mark divided between us, fair and square, and we put it in the bank. We knew Mark was a business man, and he had done things before that made folks take notice, but I don't know as he'll ever do a job of work harder than taking a busted-down newspaper that he bought for three-four hunderd dollars, and making it a first-cla.s.s newspaper, and selling out for such a profit-just to pa.s.s away a vacation.

Some day he's going to make Rockefeller hustle.

THE END