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Riis, Jacob A., 1849-1914

"The Making of an American"

Striving madly for
each other's scalps as we were, I do not think that we scalped any
one else unjustly. I know I did not. They were not particularly
scrupulous, I am bound to say. In their rage and mortification at
having underestimated the enemy, they did things unworthy of men
and of reporters. They stole my slips in the telegraph office and
substituted others that sent me off on a wild-goose chase to the
farthest river wards in the midnight hour, thinking so to tire me
out. But they did it once too often. I happened on a very important
case on such a trip, and made the most of it, telegraphing down a
column or more about it from the office, while the enemy watched me
helplessly from the Headquarters' stoop across the way. They were
gathered there, waiting for me to come back, and received me with
loud and mocking ahems! and respectfully sympathetic toots on a
tin horn, kept for that purpose. Its voice had a mournful strain
in it that was especially exasperating. But when, without paying any
attention to them, I busied myself with the wire at once, and kept
at it right along, they scented trouble, and consulted anxiously
among themselves.


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