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Page 15
To get to the telegraph office Larry had to go back to a point
nearly opposite where the life savers were working, and then strike
inland. As he was hurrying along he came to a little hummock of
sand, from which elevation he could look down on the beach and see
the crowd gathered about the breeches buoy. Out on the bar he could
make out the wrecked vessel. As he stood there a moment he saw some
one detach himself from the crowd and hurry across the intervening
beach.
"That figure looks familiar," thought Larry. "I wonder if that's
Bailey the fisherman?"
He waited a few minutes, and the figure became more distinct.
"It's Peter Manton!" cried Larry. "He's been sent down here to
report the wreck! I wonder what paper he's on? But I guess I haven't
any time to stand here wondering. I've got to beat him to the
telegraph office if I want to get a scoop, though he can't have been
on hand long enough to get much of an account."
Still Larry knew that even a brief and poor account of anything, if
it got in first, was enough to discount or "take the edge off" a
better story told later, and he made up his mind he would "scoop"
Peter, his old enemy.
The representative of the _Leader_ hurried on. Peter caught sight of
Larry, and recognized him in spite of his oilskins. Peter wore a
rain-coat, which was wet through.
"Hold on, Larry!" he cried. "I'm on the _Scorcher_ again. What have
you got?"
It was the newspaper man's way of asking his brother-of-the-pencil
for such information as he possessed. But though, as a general
thing, when several reporters are on a general story, they
interchange common news, Larry was in no mind to share what he had
with Peter. His paper had gone to the trouble to send him down in
good season, a piece of forethought which the other journals'
editors had neglected. Therefor Larry felt that he was not violating
the common practice (though it is against the strict office rules)
if he ignored Peter.
"Haven't time!" he called back.
"Wait a minute!" cried the rival reporter. "I just came down on the
first train, and I walked about five miles to find the wreck. I'm
going to the telegraph office to send my account in for an extra.
We'll whack up on it."
"We'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Larry. "I don't want
anything to do with you." He had never forgiven Peter for his part
in the kidnapping of Jimmie.
"Needn't get huffy about it," remarked Peter. "I want to be
friendly."
Larry thought it was hardly Peter's place to offer to be "friendly"
after the mean part he had played.
"I haven't time to stop now," said Larry. "I'm in a hurry. You'll
have to get along the best you can."
"So that's how you feel, eh?" asked the rival reporter. "Not very
white of you, Larry Dexter. I've only just got back my job on the
_Scorcher_ after they laid me off for getting beaten, and I've got
to make good. But never mind. The beach is free, and I've got as
good a right to the telegraph office as you have. I'd like to see
you beat me."
Larry himself did not just see how he would, but he made up his mind
to attempt it. Peter was now keeping pace with him. There was
nothing for it but to hurry on. Whoever reached the office first and
"filed his copy" would have the right to the wire. Larry resolved
that he would win in the race, even as he had won in the other, at
the big flood, but he knew there was time enough yet. If he started
to run Peter would run also, and the way was too long for a fast
sprint.
The two kept on, side by side, neither speaking. The only sound was
the patter of the rain, and the rustle and rattle of Larry's oilskin
suit.
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