LITMIR.BIZ

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in the festivities that were all-night features of the dives. There were also the usual loafers, who constitute an element never absent in any group of idlers in any street. All, however, gave way before Hollis and allowed him to reach the door without molestation, though in passing he observed significant grins on several faces.

      The notice was written in a bold, legible hand.

      “Mr. Hollis:”–it read, the prefix under-scored–“The express leaves town this afternoon at six o’clock–goin' east. Better be on it.”

      Signed–“Y. Z.”

      Hollis read the notice and then turned and quietly surveyed his watchful, interested audience. He smiled grimly, seeing several faces which, though plainly expressing amusement, seemed quietly sympathetic. He felt that these were wishing him success, though doubting his ability to cope with his enemies. Other faces were plainly antagonistic in expression. He looked at both for an instant and then turned again to the notice and producing a pencil printed boldly on its face the slogan he had devised:

       “We Herald the Coming of the Law! The Kicker is Here to Stay!”

      And below he indulged in this sarcasm: “Don’t hold the express on my account!”

      Signed–“KENT HOLLIS”

      Leaving his audience to stare after him Hollis pushed open the door of the office and entered.

      He found Potter bending over the imposing table, hard at work on one of the forms. Three other forms, locked and ready for the press, stood in a corner. Potter looked up and smiled as his chief entered.

      “See the notice on the door?” he inquired.

      “Some of Dunlavey’s work, I suppose,” returned Hollis.

      “Well, yes. I suppose Dunlavey is back of it. But Yuma tacked the sign up.” He smiled soberly as Hollis flashed a grin at him. “They tried hard last night to get me to drink. Of course their purpose was to get me drunk so that I wouldn’t be able to get the paper out today. I am not going to tell you how hard I had to fight myself to resist the temptation to drink. But you can see for yourself that I succeeded. The Kicker will be ready to go to press in an hour.”

      He felt Hollis’s hand patting his shoulder approvingly and he continued, a little hoarsely. “I took one drink at the Fashion last night after I got through here. Then I came back and went to sleep. I am a light sleeper and when some time after midnight I heard a sound at the door I got up and peered out of the window. I saw Yuma tacking up the notice. I suppose Dunlavey wrote it.” He looked at Hollis with a whimsical expression. “I suppose you are going to take the express?” he inquired.

      “Tried to get you drunk, did they?” shaking his head negatively to Potter’s question, a smile on his face. “I can’t understand that game,” he continued, soberly. “Of course getting you drunk would have prevented the appearance of the paper on scheduled time. But if they wanted to do serious damage–of course I mean to the paper,” he apologized with a grim smile, “why didn’t they come down here–some of them–during your absence, and smash things up? That would have made the thing sure for them.”

      Potter laughed mirthlessly. “Of course they could have done that,” he said; “it would have been easy–will be easy any time. But it wouldn’t be artistic, would be coarse in fact. Dunlavey doesn’t do things that way. If they smash your stuff, destroy your plant here, ruin your type and press, and so forth, they invite sympathy in your behalf. But if they prevent the appearance of your paper without having done any damage to your plant they accomplish something–they expose you to ridicule. And in this country ridicule is a potent weapon–even if it involves nothing more serious than a drunken printer.”

      Hollis shook Potter’s hand in silence. He had expected violence from Dunlavey; long before this he had expected him to show his hand, to attempt some covert and damaging action. And he had been prepared to fight to get the Kicker out. He had not expected subtlety from Dunlavey.

      He went to his desk and sat in the chair, looking out through the window at the crowd that still lingered in front of the office. Most of the faces wore grins. Plainly they were amused, but Hollis saw that the amusement was of a grim sort. They appreciated the situation and enjoyed its humor but felt the tragedy behind it. Probably most of them were acquainted with Dunlavey’s methods; some of them probably knew of the attempt that had been made to incapacitate Potter. Certainly those of them that did know had seen the failure of the attempt and were now speculating upon Dunlavey’s next move. Looking out of the window Hollis felt that some of his audience must be wondering whether the editor of the Kicker would pay any attention to the notice on the door. Would he scare?

      Hollis had already decided that he would not “scare.” He grinned at several of the men who watched him and then turned and instructed Potter to take down a column of type on the first page of the paper to make room for an article that he intended to write. Then he seized a pen and wrote a red hot defiance directed at the authors of the notice, which Potter set up under the heading:

      “Why the Editor of the Kicker Won’t Take the Express.”

      In clear, terse language he told his audience his reasons. This was America; he was an American, and he didn’t purpose to allow the Cattlemen’s Association–or any other association, gang, or individual–to dictate the policy of his paper or influence his private actions. Least of all did he purpose to allow anyone to “run him out of town.” He printed the notice entire, adding his answer, assuring readers that he was sending copies of the Kicker to every newspaper in the East and that notices such as had been affixed to his door would react against the authors. He ended with the prophecy that the law would come into Union County and that meanwhile the Kicker purposed to fight.

      At noon Hollis took the usual number of copies to the station and mailed them. Walking down the street on his return from the station he attracted much attention. Men stood in the open doorways of saloons watching him, a number openly jeered; others sent subtle jibes after him. Still others were silent, their faces expressing amusement.

      But he looked at none of them. He swung along the board walk, his face a little pale, his lips tightly closed, determined to pay no attention to the jeers that reached his ears.

      When he passed the Fashion there were a number of men draped along its front; and he was conscious of many grins. Passing the men he heard low laughter and profane reference which caused his cheeks to redden. But he walked steadily on. Near the Kicker office he met Jiggs Lenehan. Followed by the youth he reached the office to find that Potter had completed the press work and that several hundred copies of the paper, the ink still moist on its pages, were stacked in orderly array on the imposing stone. In a very brief time Jiggs burst out of the office door, a bundle of papers under his arm, and began the work of distribution. Standing back from the window with Potter, Hollis watched Jiggs until the latter reached the crowd in front of the Fashion saloon. Then all that Hollis could see of him was his red head. But that trade was brisk was proved by the press around Jiggs–the youth was passing out papers at a rapid rate and soon nearly every man in the crowd about the Fashion was engaged in reading, or,–if this important feature of his education had been neglected–in questioning his neighbor concerning the things that appeared in the paper.

      Presently Jigg’s customers in front of the Fashion were all supplied. Then other purchasers appeared. Soon the Kicker was being read by–it seemed–nearly every grown person in Dry Bottom. Business was suspended. Down the street men were congregated about the doors of many of the stores; others were sitting in doorways, still others leaned against buildings; some, not taking time to search for support, read while walking, or stood motionless on the board sidewalks, satisfying their curiosity.

      Hollis watched through the window until he began to be certain that every person in town was supplied with a paper. Then with a grim smile he left the window and sought his chair beside the desk. He was satisfied. Dunlavey had made the first aggressive movement and the fight was on.

      Chapter IX.

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