The Greatest Westerns of Charles Alden Seltzer. Charles Alden Seltzer
are you going to do with this damn newspaper?” he demanded.
“The newspaper will be used as a weapon against you,” returned Hollis. “It will kick loud and long against such organizations as the Cattlemen’s Association–against such men as you. Ostensibly the Kicker will be a Dry Bottom newspaper, but it will appear in every city in the East; the matter that appears in it will be reprinted in Chicago, in Washington, in New York–in fact in every city in which I have a friend engaged in the newspaper business–and I have a number. I am going to stir up sentiment against you. I am going to be the Law’s advance agent!”
Dunlavey rose, his lips curling with contempt. “You make me sick!” he sneered. He turned his back and walked to the door, returning and standing in front of Hollis, ominously cool and deliberate. “So that’s the how of it?” he said evenly. “You’ve come out here looking for fight. Well, you’ll get it–plenty of it. I owe you something—”
“Wait, Dunlavey,” Hollis interrupted, without excitement; “I want you to understand that there isn’t anything personal in this. I am going to fight you because you are a member of the Cattlemen’s Association and not because you were my father’s enemy. I am not afraid of you. I suspect that you will try to make things decidedly interesting for me from now on and I suppose I ought to be properly troubled. But I am not. I shall not be surprised at anything you do. I think that is all. Please close the door when you go out.”
He turned to the desk, ignoring Dunlavey. Sitting there, his senses alert, he heard the door slam. From beyond it came a curse. Silence again reigned in the office; Hollis was alone with the dust and the heat–and some very original thoughts.
Chapter VII. The “Kicker” Becomes an Institution
It was mid-July–and hot. The sun shone continually; the nights were uncomfortable, stifling. The dust was everywhere and grew deeper and lighter as the days passed. Water grew scarce; cattle suffered, lowing throughout the night, during the day searching the bogs and water holes for drops of moisture. Men looked up at the clear, cloudless sky and prayed–and cursed–for rain. The rain did not come. It was one long, continuous nightmare of heat.
The Kicker had appeared four times–on Saturdays–on time. Telegraphic communication with the outside world had been established. Potter had taken up his residence at the Circle Bar. War had been declared between the Kicker and the Lazette Eagle. Hollis had written an argumentative essay on the virtues of Dry Bottom as a town, dwelling upon its superiority over Lazette. The editor of the Eagle had replied with some bitterness, setting forth in detail why Dry Bottom did not compare with Lazette. As the editor of the Eagle mentioned population and civic spirit in his bill of particulars the war promised to be of long duration–questions of superiority between spirited persons are never settled. And Hollis had succeeded in arousing the spirit of Dry Bottom’s citizens. They began to take some interest in the Kicker. Many subscribed; all read it.
From the “local” columns of the paper one might have discovered that many public and private improvements were contemplated. Among these the following items were of the greatest interest:
Steps are being taken by the government toward the erection of a fence around the court house grounds. Judge Graney is contemplating a lawn and flowers. When these improvements are completed there will be no comparison between our court house and the dilapidated hovel which disgraces the county seat of Colfax. The Lazette Eagle please notice.
William Dunn, the proprietor of the Alhambra eating house, announces that in the near future he will erect a new sign. Thereafter the Alhambra will be known as the Alhambra Restaurant. This is a step forward. We have been informed that there is no restaurant in Lazette. Good boy, Dunn.
Chet Miller’s general merchandise store is to be repainted throughout. Chet is public spirited.
Everybody of any importance in Dry Bottom received weekly mention of some sort in the Kicker. Chet Miller was heard to say that the Kicker was a “hummer,” and no one ascribed his praise of the paper to thanks for the appearance of his name therein, for all who would have criticized were silenced by the appearance of their own names.
In the fourth issue of the paper appeared several new advertisements. Judicious personal mention and lively news locals had aroused public spirit to a point where it ignored thoughts of Dunlavey’s displeasure.
Upon the Saturday which had marked the first issue of the Kicker under Hollis’s ownership he had employed a circulation manager. That afternoon on the street near the Kicker office he had almost collided with a red haired youth of uncertain age who had bounded out through the door of a private dwelling. In order to keep from knocking the youth over Hollis was forced to seize him by the arms and literally lift him off his feet. While in the air the youth’s face was close to Hollis’s and both grinned over the occurrence. When Hollis set the youth down he stood for an instant, looking up into Hollis’s face and a grin of amusement overspread his own.
“Shucks!” he said slowly. “If it ain’t the tenderfoot editor!”
“That’s just who it is,” returned Hollis with a smile.
The youth grinned as he looked critically at Hollis. “You gittin’ out that there paper to-day, mister?” he questioned.
“Right now,” returned Hollis.
“Bully!” exclaimed the youth. He surveyed Hollis with a frank admiration. “They said you wouldn’t have the nerve to do it,” he said; “but, say! I reckon they ain’t got you sized up right!”
Hollis smiled, remembering that though the paper had been printed it was not yet distributed. He placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder.
“Have you got nerve enough to pass the Kicker around to the people of this town?” he questioned.
“I reckon,” grinned the youth. “I was comin’ down to ast you for the job when you bumped into me. I used to peddle them for your dad. My name’s Jiggs Lenehan–mebbe you’ve heard of me?”
Hollis smiled. “The question of delivering the Kicker was one of the details that I overlooked,” he said. “But fortunately it is arranged now. Henceforth, Jiggs, you are the Kicker’s official circulation manager. Likewise, if you care to add to your income, you can help Potter around the office.”
So it had been arranged, and Jiggs entered upon his duties with an energy that left little doubt in his employer’s mind that he would prove a valuable addition to the force.
In Hollis’s “Salutatory” to the people of Dry Bottom he had announced in a quiet, unostentatious paragraph that while he had not come to Dry Bottom for a free fight, he would permit no one to tread on his toes. His readers’ comprehension of the metaphor was complete–as was evidenced by the warm hand-clasps which he received from citizens who were not in sympathy with the Dunlavey regime. It surprised him to find how many such there were in town. He was convinced that all this element needed was a leader and he grimly determined to step quietly into that position himself.
The second issue of the Kicker was marked by a more aggressive spirit–a spirit engendered by the sympathetic reception of the first issue. In it he stated concisely his views of the situation in Union County, telling his readers that the best interests of the community demanded that Dunlavey’s evil influence be wiped out. This article was headed: “Dry Bottom’s Future,” and won him many friends.
The third issue contained stronger language, and the fourth was energetically aggressive. As he had decided before the first appearance of the paper, he took a certain number of copies of each issue, folded them neatly, stamped and addressed them, and mailed them to a number of newspapers throughout the country whose editors he knew. He also directed copies to a number of his friends in the East–to the president of his college, and last, to the