The Stolen Story
throwing it on the floor. The story itself was all in type and locked up in the form now, and Stone had put a head on it, one of his characteristic heads—a big, black-lettered head that would in a few hours make the now sleeping town buzz with astonishment and the newsboys rich selling Days alone if
It was less than half an hour from the time of going to press. Most of the office was getting up and sitting down again, or stepping about the room, or looking at the clock.
Mr. Manning wet his lips and said, "Stone, Woods will know we can't take copy much longer. Then he will commence wondering, then he will wake up, then he'll run over to the Earth office and"
"Haskill," said Stone, "you're fat; go down and stand in front of Woods, with your back toward him."
Haskill walked down the room. Stone jumped up on the "Jersey" desk, jerked back the glass door of the clock, shoved the hands back twenty minutes, slammed the door shut and jumped down again. Five minutes later Billy called up, "How much more can you take?"
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