York found out I'd found out and sent for me to tell. But I
didn't, and I didn't write the story either. Doyle heard about
that. So, he asked me to come as his guest, and he's promised
that after he's landed the expedition and the arms I can write as
much about it as I darn please."

"Then you're a reporter?" said David.

"I'm what we call a cub reporter," laughed Carr. "You see, I've
always dreamed of being a war correspondent. The men in the
office say I dream too much. They're always guying me about it.
But, haven't you noticed, it's the ones who dream who find their
dreams come true. Now this isn't real war, but it's a near war,
and when the real thing breaks loose, I can tell the managing
editor I served as a war correspondent in the Cuban-Spanish
campaign. And he may give me a real job!"

"And you LIKE this?" groaned David.

"I wouldn't, if I were as sick as you are," said Carr, "but I've
a stomach like a Harlem goat." He stooped and lowered his voice.
"Now, here are two fake filibusters," he whispered. "The men you
read about in the newspapers. If a man's a REAL filibuster,
nobody knows it!"

Coming toward them was the tall man who had knocked David out,
and the little one who had wanted to tie him to a tree.

"All they ask," whispered Carr, "is money and advertisement. If
they knew I was a reporter, they'd eat out of my hand. The tall