The next morning Bob bought all the papers and glanced through them with considerable wonder and amusement.  They were decidedly metropolitan in size, and carried a tremendous amount of advertising.  Early in his perusal he caught the personal bias of the news.  Without distortion to the point of literal inaccuracy, nevertheless by skilful use of headlines and by manipulation of the point of view, all items were made to subserve a purpose.  In local affairs the most vulgar nicknaming, the most savage irony, vituperation, scorn and contempt were poured out full measure on certain individuals unpopular with the papers.  Such epithets as “lickspittle,” “toad,” “carcass blown with the putrefying gas of its own importance,” were read in the body of narration.

“These are the best-edited, most influential and powerful journals in the West,” commented Baker.  “They possess an influence inconceivable to an Easterner.”

The advertising columns were filled to bursting with advertisements of patent medicines, sex remedies, quack doctors, miraculous healers, clairvoyants, palm readers, “philanthropists” with something “free” to bestow, cleverly worded offers of abortion; with full-page prospectuses of mines; of mushroom industrial concerns having to do with wave motors, water motors, solar motors, patent couplers, improved telephones and the like, all of whose stock now stood at $1.10, but which on April 10th, at 8.02 P.M., would go up to $1.15; with blaring, shrieking offers of real estate in this, that or the other addition, consisting, as Bob knew from yesterday, of farm acreage at front-foot figures.  The proportion of this fake advertising was astounding.  One in particular seemed incredible—­a full page of the exponent of some Oriental method of healing and prophecy.

“Of course, a full-page costs money,” replied Baker.  “But this is the place to get it.”  He pushed back his chair.  “Well, what do you think of our fair young city?” he grinned.

“It’s got me going,” admitted Bob.

“Took me some time to find out where to get off at,” said Baker.  “When I found it out, I didn’t dare tell anybody.  They mob you here and string you up by your pigtail, if you try to hint that this isn’t the one best bet on terrestrial habitations.  They like their little place, and they believe in it a whole lot, and they’re dead right about it!  They’d stand right up on their hind legs and paw the atmosphere if anybody were to tell them what they really are, but it’s a fact.  Same joyous slambang, same line of sharps hanging on the outskirts, same row, racket, and joy in life, same struggle; yes, and by golly! the same big hopes and big enterprises and big optimism and big energies!  Wouldn’t you like to be helping them do it?”

“What’s the answer?” asked Bob, amused.

“Well, for all its big buildings and its electric lights, and trolleys, and police and size, it’s nothing more nor less than a frontier town.”