have been talking to Ferris about it. I regret to say that he gave me
very little encouragement, and did not seem at all to appreciate my
feelings in the matter."

"Oh, you mustn't mind Ferris," said Speed. "He is a first-rate fellow,
but he is as cold and unsympathetic as--well, suppose we say as an
oyster. His great hobby is non-intercourse with the world we have left.
Now, in that I don't agree with him, and there are thousands who don't
agree with him. I admit that there are cases where a man is more unhappy
if he frequents the old world than he would be if he left it alone. But
then there are other cases where just the reverse is true. Take my own
experience, for example; I take a peculiar pleasure in rambling around
Chicago. I admit that it is a grievance to me, as an old newspaper man,
to see the number of scoops I could have on my esteemed contemporaries,
but--"

"Scoop? What is that?" asked Brenton, mystified.

"Why, a scoop is a beat, you know."

"Yes, but I don't know. What is a beat?"

"A beat or a scoop, my dear fellow, is the getting of a piece of news
that your contemporary does not obtain. You never were in the newspaper
business? Well, sir, you missed it. Greatest business in the world. You
know everything that is going on long before anybody else does, and the
way you can reward your friends and jump with both feet on your enemies
is one of the delights of existence down there."

"Well, what I wanted to ask you was this," said Brenton. "You have made