Queed.
Queed said he supposed so, provided the _Post_ took little of his time
and paid his board in return for it. West had no doubt that everything
could be satisfactorily arranged.
"Colonel Cowles is the man who hires and fires," he explained. "Go to
see him in a day or two, will you? Meantime, I'll tell him all about
you."
Presently West smiled himself out, leaving Queed decidedly relieved at
the brief reprieve. He had been harried by the fear that his visitor
would insist on his stopping to produce an article or so while he
waited. However, the time had come when the inevitable had to be faced.
His golden privacy must be ravished for the grim god of bread and meat.
The next afternoon he put on his hat with a bad grace, and went forth to
seek Colonel Cowles, editor-in-chief of the leading paper in the State.
The morning _Post_ was an old paper, which had been in the hands of a
single family from A.D. 1846 till only the other day. It had been a
power during the war, a favorite mouthpiece of President Davis. It had
stood like a wall during the cruelties of Reconstruction; had fought the
good fight for white man's rule; had crucified carpet-baggism and
scalawaggery upon a cross of burning adjective.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84