Mark Tidd, Editor Part 9

"If I could think of anythin'!" yelled Mr. Pawl. "You bet I kin think of somethin'. How big a advertis.e.m.e.nt d'you figger he'll print?"

"Prob'ly all of half a p-page," says Mark.

"I'll have a page, a whole blinged page. I'll show him! That's the way we do business in the Emporium. No half-pages for us. We go the whole hog when we go.... Now git out of here, you kids. I'm goin' to be busy.

I've got to rig up a whole-page ad. for that paper, and I got to do it quick to beat that raker-handle of a Giddings.... When's the paper come out?"

"To-morrow," says Mark. "Better get your ad. in this afternoon."

"You bet I will," says Mr. Pawl, and while we were going out he was already writing on it.

Mark looked at me and grinned. "F-f-funny he didn't kick us out," says he.

"Mark Tidd," says I, "I take off my hat. Talk about grabbin' a opportunity when it's pa.s.sin'! Well, I guess maybe you didn't grab this one."

"You lugged in the opportunity," says Mark, giving me credit like he always does, even though I didn't deserve much of it. "But we hain't quite through grabbin' yet," says he. "We got to see Mr. Giddings."

We went catercorner across the street to the Busy Big Market, and there was Mr. Giddings in the door, with a grin on his face, looking down at a crate of eggs. On the crate he had just stuck a sign, which read:

These Eggs Were Laid by Hardworking, Honest Hens

The Oldest Is Under Twenty-Four Hours

Buy Your Eggs Here-Don't Go Elsewhere Our Compet.i.tors' Chickens Have Ague

Their Eggs Are Scrambled in the Sh.e.l.l

Mark started in to laugh and nudged me with his elbow.

"Laugh, you chump," says he, "l-l-laugh."

So I set in to laughing with all my might. Mr. Giddings looked at us and grinned.

"Perty good, eh?" says he.

"You bet," says Mark, "but I hear tell Mr. Pawl's goin' to have even that sign beat."

"He is, is he?" says Mr. Giddings. "How is he, I'd like to know? He better not start in on anythin'. What's the leetle weasel up to now?"

"Advertisin'," says Mark. "He's goin' to advertise such b-b-bargains as Wicksville 'ain't ever seen before. I got wind of somethin' else, too. I hear he's goin' to allude to his compet.i.tors in his advertis.e.m.e.nt, and sort of lambaste 'em and their goods."

"He is, eh? When? How?"

"To-morrow, in the Wicksville _Trumpet_," says Mark. "He's g-g-goin' to have a full-page ad., and I'll bet he'll say some mean things in it, too."

"Think so?" says Mr. Giddings, eager-like. "Well, now, I'll fool the little flea. That's what I'll do. I'll have a page ad., too, and if he can offer better bargains than I do, or say more cuttin' things, then I'll go out of business. Paper comes out to-morrow, don't it?"

"Yes," says Mark. "Better have your page in the office this afternoon.

It'll have to be set up in a hurry."

"You bet I will," says Mr. Giddings, "and I'll say things in it so hot your compositor'll burn his fingers settin' 'em in type."

We went hustling back to the office and told Tec.u.mseh Androcles Spat that he had a night's work ahead of him that would come close to taxing even his ability.

"What is it?" says he.

"Two page ads.," says Mark.

"Huh!" says Tec.u.mseh Androcles. "I'll have them ready. And they will not be mere ads. They will be works of art. I will bring to the setting of them all my skill and knowledge, to say nothing of the genius with which nature has endowed me. Young sirs, this town will see two page ads. such as it has never dreamed of."

"Fine," says Mark, and we went back into the office.

"I'll bet," says Mark, "that Tec.u.mseh Androcles was right about one t-t-thing. Wicksville hain't ever dreamed of two page advertis.e.m.e.nts like those'll be."

"I only hope," says I, "that there won't be no bloodshed."

Mark grinned, happy-like. "Business is p-p-pickin' up. Wonder how many page advertis.e.m.e.nts Spragg has p-p-picked up for the Eagle Center _Clarion_?"

CHAPTER V

Next day what Mark Tidd called the _mended_ Wicksville _Trumpet_ gave its first toot. It didn't break our backs carrying to the post-office the copies we mailed to regular subscribers. The four of us boys could 'most have written out enough papers longhand to fix _them_ up, but we did print five hundred copies altogether. The rest we were going to sell just like papers are sold in cities.

We sold them for three cents apiece, and every fellow had subscription blanks in his pocket so if anybody got so reckless as to want to subscribe we could catch him before he cooled off. You wouldn't believe it, but before night we had raked in forty-six regular honest-to-goodness subscribers.

Folks was that interested! At first they bought our papers to see the joke, I guess, but pretty soon they were buying them because they wanted to read what was in them, and especial to read about Henry Wigglesworth and the two page advertis.e.m.e.nts from Pawl and Giddings.

The Eagle Center _Clarion_ was on deck, too, giving away sample copies of the new Wicksville edition. But we had Spragg swamped. For every local he had we printed three, and three of the kind Wicksville folks like to read. He had only a dozen lines about Henry Wigglesworth, while we had two columns full of interesting things, and mystery, and Rock, and such like. It was the first time folks really got any clear idea of what had happened out there. At that, I guess they thought they had a clearer idea than they had. I know we editors would have given considerable to be better posted.

Ten minutes after he got his paper Mr. Pawl started out to lick Mr.

Giddings. About that same minute Mr. Giddings started out to do things to Mr. Pawl, and they met in the square close to the town pump. Each of them had a _Trumpet_ clutched in his fingers, and was waving it around like a battle flag. When they saw each other they both let out a bellow and rushed.

But neither of them was so war-like, when it came to doing regular fighting, as they were when nothing but yelling was necessary. When they got about eight feet apart they both stepped like somebody was standing up and hauling on the lines. They stopped so sudden it must have jarred them, and there they stood, shaking their fists at each other and waving their _Trumpets_.

Uncle Ike Bond, the 'bus driver, drew up his horses and craned his neck to listen.

"What's trouble?" he called down.

"They're squabblin' about them advertis.e.m.e.nts," said Jim Walker.

"Um! ... If I was them fellers I'd keep shet up about them ads. As I view it there was consid'able truth about both of 'em. Giddings he lets on Pawl is a skinflint and weighs his hand with every pound of b.u.t.ter; Pawl he gives it out that Giddings hain't got but one honest hair in his head, and that one's so loose at the root it's clost to fallin' out.

I've dealt consid'able with both," Uncle Ike went on, waggling his head, "and as I view it n.o.body hain't been wronged." He stopped a minute and squinted down at them.

"Be you honest figgerin' on a fight?" he asked, "'cause if you be I'll stop to watch, but if it hain't nothin' but a fist-shakin' match I'll move along. Hey?"

Both men looked sort of sheepish, and like they wished they was where they weren't.