In that occupation he became oblivious of the next room, of a silence,
a whispered conversation, which ended with a rapping at the door and the
appearance of the foreman in the doorway.
"There's a man in the office who wants to see the editor," he said.
"Show him in," replied the editor briefly. He was, however, conscious
that there was a singular significance in his foreman's manner, and an
eager apparition of the other printer over the foreman's shoulder.
"He's carryin' a shot-gun, and is a man twice as big as you be," said
the foreman gravely.
The editor quickly recalled his own brief and as yet blameless record
in the "Clarion." "Perhaps," he said tentatively, with a gentle smile,
"he's looking for Captain Brush" (the absent editor).
"I told him all that," said the foreman grimly, "and he said he wanted
to see the man in charge."
In proportion as the editor's heart sank his outward crest arose. "Show
him in," he said loftily.
"We KIN keep him out," suggested the foreman, lingering a moment; "me
and him," indicating the expectant printer behind him, "is enough for
that.
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