geologist, I was obtained to make an examination 

 of the region. On a certain May morning our outfit 

 crossed the Nett Lake in canoes with a force of In- 

 dian helpers, and descended Nett river. We spent 

 diligent, arduous weeks wading swamps, crawling 

 through brush Woods and canoeing and portaging 

 down the crooked streams, but not one ounce of black 

 diamond did we find. Of course, we returned dis- 

 appointed, but what of the newspaper world? Much 

 had been expected of our trip and space had been 

 left in the two dailies of the place. "What were we to 

 do ? It would not do to report our failure in a 

 column space. What were we to do? My chief 

 came to me as we reached the railroad station at 

 International Falls and said: 



"Dutch," (that was my pet name in the region,) 

 can't you fix up something for the space in those 

 papers. Those reporters will hang onto me when I 

 get to Duluth and I must have something to satisfy 

 them. They must be filled, I mean the space in the 

 papers, but for God's sake, don't mention that we 

 were even on a coal prospecting trip. You 

 know what the boys would say: 'Unghoo, I told 

 you so,' with a sardonic grin as they would slap me 

 between the shoulders." 



"Leave it to me," I broke in, in an assuring man- 

 ner The next day each paper published the account 

 of our trip in bold head lines, but it was not men- 

 tioned in the article that we had been looking for 

 coal . Tire heading was "A New Discovery." It 

 read in part: 



10 



