went straight through by way of the Northern Pacific. I was the only
reporter at the wreck."

"I understand, but," her voice fluctuated softly, "I dislike publicity so
intensely. Of course it's different with Mrs. Feversham. She is accustomed
to newspaper notice; her husband and brother are so completely in the
public eye. But since you must use the story, couldn't you suppress my
name?"

"Oh, but how could I? The whole story hinges on you. You were driving the
machine. I saw you from the train window as you came through the cut. You
handled the gear like an imported chauffeur, but it was steep there on the
approach, and the car began to skid. I saw in a flash what was going to
happen; it made me limp as a rag. But there was a chance,--the merest
hairbreadth, and you took it." He waited a moment, then said, smiling:
"That was a picture worth snapping, but I was too batty to think of it in
time. You see," he went on seriously, "the leading character in this story
is you. And it means a lot to me. I was going to be fired; honest I was.
The old man told me he wasn't looking for any _Treasure Island_ genius;
what his paper needed was plain facts. Then his big heart got the upper
hand, and he called me back. 'Jimmie,' he said, 'there's good stuff in
you, and I am going to give you one more trial. Go over to North Yakima
and tell us about the fair. Take the new Milwaukee line as far as
Ellensburg and pick up something about the automobile road through
Snoqualmie Pass. But remember, cut out the fiction; keep to facts!'"

"I understand," she repeated gravely, "I understand. The accident came
opportunely. It was life and color to your setting and demonstrates the
need of a better road. The most I can hope is that you will not exaggerate
or--or put us in a ridiculous light."