22 The Light That Failed War-Ships, rattled across the causeway into the town, and wired to his syndicate, “Got man here, picturework. Good and cheap. Shall I arrange? Will do letterpress with sketches.” The man on the redoubt sat swinging his legs and murmuring, “I knew the chance would come, sooner or later. By Gad, they'll have to sweat for it if I come through this business alive!” In the evening Torpenhow was able to announce to his friend that the Central Southern Agency was willing to take him on trial, paying expenses for three months. “And, by the way, what’s your name?” said Torpenhow. “Heldar. Do they give me a free hand?” “They've taken you on chance. You must justify the choice. You'd better stick to me. I’m going up-country with a column, and I'll do what I can for you. Give me some of your sketches taken here, and I'll send ’em along.” To himself he said, “That’s the best bargain the Central southern has ever made; and they got me cheaply enough.” So it came to pass that, after some purchase of horse-flesh and arrangements financial and political, Dick was made free of the New and Honorable Fraternity of war correspondents, who all possess the inalienable right of doing as much work as they can and getting as much for it as Providence and their owners shall please. To these things are added in time, if the brother be worthy, the power of glib speech that neither man nor woman can resist when a meal or a bed is in question, the eye of a horse-cope, the skill of a cook, the constitution of a bullock, the digestion of an ostrich, and an infinite adaptability to all circumstances. But many die before they attain to this degree, and the past-masters in the craft appear for the most part in dress-clothes when they are in England, and