“What’s the matter, Sis?” he inquired, with quick concern.

His sister pointed to a copy of The Review which that day’s mail had brought.

“Look at that!” she cried.  “Read it!”

“Oh!  Your story, eh?”

“Read it!”

He read a column, and then glanced up to find her watching him with angry eyes.

“Gee!  That’s pretty rough on the chief, Kid.  I thought you liked him,” he said, gravely.

“I do!  I do!  Don’t you understand, dummy?  I didn’t write that!  They’ve changed my story—­distorted it.  I’m—­furious!”

Dan whistled softly.  “I didn’t suppose they’d try anything like that, but—­they did a good job while they were at it.  Why, you’d think O’Neil was a grafter and the S. R. & N. nothing but a land-grabbing deal.”

“How dared they?” the girl cried.  “The actual changes aren’t so many—­just enough to alter the effect of the story—­but that’s what makes it so devilish.  For instance, I described the obstacles and the handicaps Mr. O’Neil has had to overcome in order to show the magnitude of his enterprise, but Drake has altered it so that the physical conditions here seem to be insuperable and he makes me say that the road is doomed to failure.  That’s the way he changed it all through.”

“It may topple the chief’s plans over; they’re very insecure.  It plays right into the hands of his enemies, too, and of course Gordon’s press bureau will make the most of it.”

“Heavens!  I want sympathy, not abuse!” wailed his sister.  “It’s all due to the policy of The Review.  Drake thinks everybody up here is a thief.  I dare say they are, but—­How can I face Mr. O’Neil?”

Dan shook the paper in his fist.  “Are you going to stand for this?” he demanded.

“Hardly!  I cabled the office this morning, and here’s Drake’s answer.”  She read: 

“‘Stuff colorless.  Don’t allow admiration warp judgment.’  Can you beat that?” “He thinks you’ve surrendered to Murray, like all the others.”

“I hate him!” cried Eliza.  “I detest him!”

“Who?  O’Neil or Drake?”

“Both.  Mr. O’Neil for putting me in the position of a traitor, and Drake for presuming to rewrite my stuff.  I’m going to resign, and I’m going to leave Omar before Murray O’Neil comes back.”

“Don’t be a quitter, Sis.  If you throw up the job the paper will send somebody who will lie about us to suit the policy of the office.  Show ’em where they’re wrong; show ’em what this country needs.  You have your magazine stories to write.”

Eliza shook her head.  “Bother the magazines and the whole business!  I’m thinking about Mr. O’Neil.  I—­I could cry.  I suppose I’ll have to stay and explain to him, but—­then I’ll go home.”

“No!  You’ll stay right here and go through with this thing.  I need you.”

“You?  What for?”

“You can perform a great and a signal service for your loving brother.  He’s in terrible trouble!”