THE Storyteller An Imp's Deed.

Feilding Star, Volume VI, Issue 1672, 16 December 1911, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE Storyteller An Imp's Deed.

THE EDITOIi AND THE DEVIL

' He was a fearful little imp of darkness, and, although it is not usual to address the "devils" as such in newspaper offices, throughout- that of the livening Meteor he was universally known by the cognomen of his Satanic* majesty. ' Only the previous afternoon, just as the last page 'of the first edition of the paper was about to be sterotyped, he had carefully laid a piece Of string afbug the floor and tripped up a certain enemy of his who was staggering beneath the weight of the '-forme containing the .page in question, the result- being that, to the supreme delight of the Devil the page was immediately converted into "pi." In other words the type was scattered -in hopeless confusion Km the ground, and had there not been four or five columns of "pad" in the way of fiction and some standing advertisements ready iset up in preparation for •emergencies, they couldn't have got tne pup-'..- cut a* i'all.

"Come here you young imp!" said the foreman a little later to tho Devil. "Take .these proofs down to tho lioss in tlie editorial room.'

The Editor was known throughout the establishment as "the boss," while the foreman was 'usually spoken of as "the old man , '" by his subordinates ; though, as a matter of fact, he was younger .than many of them.

The Devil went down the stall's three at a time whistling horribly out of tune meanwhile. Be was a choir boy at a neighbouring church, and his lijusical r.eportoire comprised a. really remarkable mixture of hymn tunes, anthems, and the latest ribald dittie6 from, the iimisic halls.

"I am staying here ]ate to-night," said the JEditor, after glancing at the proofs, "and want someone rto stay and go .up to the station to meet the mid-night train and fetch ,a parcel."

A look of intense indignation at on6e jiei-vaded the Devil's dirty little face.

"Oh, if I'm to have extra pay I don't mind staying, sir," he said patronizingly, as visions of something gorgeous in the way of a supper menu and a -choice, selection of "penny dreadfuls" as aids to digestion passed quickly through liis mind.

"Very well; go and get your tea, and come back to the office when you ■'have had it," said the Editor, filling in an order on the cashier -which sent the Devil away liappy, and whistling out of tune more horribly than ever.

At 11 o'clock the Editor was still at his desk, and though ho had been at it Till day, he- looked as fresh as new paint. He was a glutton for work. Save for the watchman in the timekeeper's office the Editor was alone. He glanced at his watch and rang a bell connecting with the room where the boy was awaiting his orders.

"Ram down and see if there are any telegrams in the timekeeper's office," said the jiditor as the Devil opened J the door.

"Very good, sir," he responded, and, without deigning further to reply, he bestowed upon the Editor a horrible grin as he slammed the dooxafter Trim.

Downstairs he found some telegrams in the office, but the night watchman was absent: gone, presumably, for liquid refreshment before his adjacent house of call closed for the night. Out of pure cussedness the Devil violently closed a door of communication which could "be opened only with a pass key.

"The boss will have to let me out, I reckon," he. murmured resignedly as he carried the telegrams upstairs.

• Tearing open the envelopes in the manner peculiar to those accustomed to deal with a mass of "flimsies," the Editor quickly absorbed their contents. "I want the Cuban article which was set up to-day and held over. Do you think you could find the proof'?™ ho asked. "Dunno, sir; there's a pretty -good few of 'em upstairs," promptly replied the Devil. "Perhaps I had better go up and look for it myself," murmured the Editor impatiently; and with the. sooty-faced little imp following at his heels he mounted the stairs until he reached the top floor of the lofty building. The long composing room, with its array of formes and galleys, looked gloomy and spectral, with but a single electric light switched on, and the search of the Editor among the files Of "copy" and proofs on the desks of the readers proved ineffectual. "I can't find that article—perhaps at has been left in the linotype machine room," he said. "Can't get in, sir; the cage is locked," laconically replied the Devil. The cage was a door composed of a description of trellis work in stout wire eovermg'the enfrahce to the linotype room. Not without good reason were would-be intruders, who might be inexperienced in the latent power and danger contained in the room, restrained from entering. "i.have a key," said the Editor,

and, selecting a small one of peculiar make from those on a bunch, he opened the cage. The long rows of machines in the semi-darkness' somewhat resembled groups of the old- ! fashioned upright- pianos of a bygone generation. "Just switch on a light, will you?" ho said, grouping about among the numerous files ol proofs hanging from a shelf. _ The Devil turned to the wall .at- his side, and, whether from the original sin which he was imbued or by mere mistake, he gave a twist to a small knob projecting from a board which by has been strongly cautioned against ever approaching. Immediately the midnight silence was broken by a rush and a roar. The broad leather belts with which the. -roof was intersected began to revolve

and in an instant the twrlve linotype machines were- in motion, α-attling away as if anxious to bring ahout

a midnight edition of the paper. Instead of the light, the Devil had switched on two hundred and twenty volts of electric power.

"Here, stop that, you young idiot P Switch it off again—no; better let me do it!" shouted the Editor, and, 'in haste and impatience, confused as well by the poor light, incautiously lie raised his hand to the switchboard.

Instantly, with a scream resembling that- of a woman in agony—though he was a strong, powerfully-built man — he .was lifted bodily from Ivis .feet and flung across the floor until he struck tho opposite wall fifteen feet away. Then, dropping heavily on the boards he twisted in gyrations like "those of a snake, rolling over and over and clutching ineffectually at the wood "with his nails. Then, after rolling" across the entire width of the room he lay on his back rigid and with horribly distended eves.

Inadvertently he had touched a brass knob on the switchboard containing a current so powerful that an iron bar, nccklen'tly dropped on -•- some weeks previously, had melted like wax, falling to the "floor in a liquid stream.

For the first- few moments the Devil stood as if paralyzed, and with his own optics staring in -a"manner not at all .unlike those of the stricken man on the floor. Then, for the space of half a minute he executed a sort of war dance around the prostrate figure, paused, scratched" his head, and after a prolonged stare fled down the stairs. At the 'bottom his egress was barred by the door which he liad closed ten minutes previously, an<l f'9 gainst which he -now kicked and hammered in vain.

Again he mounn.ted the stairs, and half way up lie paused as though a thought had struck him. Into the tele phone chamber he flew and rushed to the instrument which he knew to be in use. "Hullo, exchange! "Put me on to some doctor, will ye? My editors gone and trollycuted hisself," he yelled, before the man at the other end had time to get to his instrument. "Who are you?" came the cry. "I'm the Devil. ,r "Who?" "The devil at the Evening Meteor Office." "Oh. go to your native place!" replied the man at the exchange, and shuti him off, thinking that some one was "guying" him. Messages in plenty he got all night from the dailies, but the Meteor was an evening paper with which the night staff at the exchange had little to do.

The Devil paused irresolutely for a moment, and then rushed to one of the windows facing on the street. Throwing it open he shouted for help.

He shouted in vain. The streets, so busy and thronged in the daytime, were now absolutely deserted. Not even a policeman seemed to be within hearing distance.

All at once the poy's eyes , fell on a water pipe leading from the roof to the ground and situated in an angle of the wall just within reach of the window. He craned his dirty little neck out of the window , , gave a prolonged gaze at the pavement sixty feet below and then, unconsciously perhaps, hut quietly, expressively and with perfect intonation, , began to whistle the solo in Mendelssohn's "Hear My Prayer."

The boy raised himself to the win-dow-sill, leaned over and grasped the water pipe firmly. Ho was just able to clutch it with his grimy little paws. Then, hand-over-hand", and with the aid of active feet and knees, and with the agility of a mon r key, mingled with the pluck of a youthful Bayard, he began to descend. The training he had received in the gymnasium of the choir school came in useful. Slowly, but safely, he reached another window-sill twenty feet below. By this time his poor little knuckles were raw and beeding from scraping against the rough bricks, but, after a pause for breath, he started again on his perilous descent. The remainder of the descent was comparatively easy owing to projections in the facade and three minutes latet- the Devil was tearing along the streeti in the direction of the nearest police station. Half way thither, however, he met a policeman. "I want a doctor, quick!" he gasped. "Who do you want a doctor for, ■little nigger?" asked the "bobby" jocularly. "I'm. no bloomin' nigger—l only blackened myself for a lark," breath-

lessly replied the boy. "But my boss is r>yiii, and no kid; he,' s trollycuted hisi'self and I'm afmid he'e dead and I've killed 'im."

Then, for .the first time, the brave lit We chap began to cry. ' The offect of his tears on his , ink-stained face was something too awful to be described in mere words.

The astonished policeman quickly drew from him more intelligible account of the matter, and 'together they went in search of a medical man. Fortunately they found one in and near at hand, and in a' very shore space of time, the watchman having by now returned to his post, the Editor -was having the best of medical skill bestowed upon him. He was still unconscious, but, soon revived under the remedies applied, and was conveyed home. It was some time, however, before he could resume his duties and for weeks lie was in a state of nervous prostration.

[ "You may congratulate yourself ■that things are no worse," said the doc-tor consolingly. ••],f it had not been for that boy's wonderful climb down the water-pipe somebody would have written your obituary notice by now. Five minutes longer unconscious, and I doubt if 1 could have pulled you through. "Was the boy hurt?' asked the invalid anxiously.. "His hands and knees were simplyraw; scraped to the very bono by the bricks. It seems almost a miracle that be held on." The 'Edhjjr registered a mental vow. The -Devil should not remain a mere imp of the composing-room much longer. Given the chance, the boy doubtless would rise to something infinitlely bettor—and he should have that chance. At the office, however, it was not quite settled whether the. boy should be regarded in the light; of a hero or as a would-be murderer. To his 'day, indeed, events are reckoned, amongst the staff of the Evening Meteor from the date "'when the Devil tried to kill the Editor,'"'— Cha-s. F. Stoggall.