CHAPTER 19 PUBLICITY PLUS

Completely mystified by her father’s remarks, Penny waited for him to explain.

“Don’t you get it?” he asked, waving his hand toward the big signboard. “The finding of those stones bearing Elizabethan and Indian writing was perfectly timed! It’s all a publicity stunt for the coming show!”

“How could it be?” Penny questioned, scarcely able to accept her father’s theory. “I found one of the rocks myself. I know I wasn’t hired by any Indian show!”

“It was pure luck that you stumbled into the stone, Penny. If you hadn’t, someone hired by the Indian show would have brought it to light.”

“But where does Jay Franklin figure in, Dad? You don’t think he’s connected with the publicity scheme as you call it!”

“Franklin wouldn’t have sufficient imagination to pull off a stunt like that,” Mr. Parker declared. “No, he may actually believe in the authenticity of the stones. At any rate, he saw an opportunity to make a little money for himself and seized it.”

“Why should an Indian show go to the trouble of having stones carved and planted in various fields? It doesn’t make sense.”

“The resulting publicity should draw state-wide attention to the show, Penny. It’s just the sort of idea which would appeal to a clever publicity agent. Every newspaper in Riverview except the Star has fallen for it, giving columns of space to the story.”

“I still don’t see how the show will gain. Its name never has been mentioned in connection with the finding of the stones.”

“Of course not, Penny. That would be too crude. But at the proper time, the publicity agent will twist all of the stories to his own purpose.”

“Dad,” said Penny sadly, “in the past you have accused me of having wild ideas. I think the score is even now.”

“I’ll have that show traced,” Mr. Parker declared, paying no heed to his daughter. “Since it is coming to Riverview next week it can’t be far away now. I may find it worth while to call on the publicity agent and have a little chat with him.”

Penny was gazing at the billboard again, reading the dates.

“Dad, the show will play here during Pilgrimage Week,” she declared. “What a shame! It’s certain to take away customers from a much more worthwhile event.”

“There may not be an Indian show,” responded Mr. Parker grimly. “Not when I get through with the outfit!”

Immediately upon arriving at home, the publisher called the newspaper office, delegating City Editor DeWitt to obtain complete information about the Indian Show and to report to him. All evening he talked of his theory until both Penny and Mrs. Weems confessed that they were a bit weary of redskins.

“I shall write an editorial for tomorrow’s Star,” Mr. Parker announced. “Even if I haven’t absolute facts, I’ll drop a few broad hints about those fake stones!”

The editorial, cleverly worded but with very definite implications, was composed that night, and telephoned to the newspaper office. Penny had the pleasure of reading it at breakfast the next morning.

“You certainly did yourself proud, Dad,” she praised. “However, I imagine the museum people aren’t going to be too pleased. Nor certain other folks in this town.”

“Let me take a look at it,” Mr. Parker requested, reaching for the paper.

As Penny offered it to him, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Weems was busy in the kitchen so the girl arose and went to answer it. Jay Franklin stood on the porch.

“Good morning,” he said in a hard voice. “Is your father here?”

“Yes, he is eating breakfast,” Penny responded. “Won’t you come in, please?”

Mr. Franklin walked ahead of her into the living room.

“Good morning, Jay,” called the editor, who was able to see the caller from his chair at the breakfast table. “Will you have a cup of coffee with us?”

Ignoring the invitation, Mr. Franklin entered the dinette, blocking the doorway. From his pocket he took a copy of the morning Star.

“Parker,” he said curtly, “I’ve just read your editorial and I demand an explanation! Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Written a pretty fair stickful—or so my daughter tells me,” Mr. Parker smiled undisturbed.

“You’ve deliberately tried to smear me,” the real estate man accused.

“I don’t recall that your name was mentioned in the editorial.”

“No, but you know I expect to sell those two stones to the museum. This editorial of yours may queer the sale!”

“Then it will have fulfilled its purpose. The stones are fakes. If you aren’t aware of it, I suggest that you acquaint yourself with the true facts.”

“Those stones bear genuine Elizabethan writing. There’s no connection with any cheap Indian show, and I defy you to prove it!”

“Consider your challenge accepted,” replied Mr. Parker evenly. “I expect to publish the true facts very shortly in the Star.”

“If you prevent me from making a sale to the museum, I’ll sue you!” Jay Franklin threatened. “That’s all I have to say. Good morning!”

In his anger he turned so quickly that he ran into Penny who stood directly behind him. Without bothering to apologize, he brushed past her, out the front door.

“What a dreadful man!” remarked Mrs. Weems who had heard the conversation from the kitchen.

“I rather expected him to call, although not so early in the morning,” the publisher remarked, reaching for a slice of toast. “His attitude doesn’t bother me in the least.”

“He may actually sue you if you don’t make good on producing facts,” Penny commented. “How are you going to do it?”

“DeWitt informs me that the Indian Show is playing at Bryan this week. I’ll drive over there today and see what I can learn.”

Bryan was a small city located sixty-nine miles from Riverview. Although Penny ordinarily would have spent the day in school, she immediately decided that her father would need her assistance. Accordingly, she begged so hard to accompany him that he finally gave his consent.

Early afternoon saw Mr. Parker and his daughter at the outskirts of Bryan where two large blue and red show tents had been set up. A band played, and townspeople were pouring past the ticket-taker, an Indian who wore the headdress of a chieftain.

“It looks rather interesting,” Penny remarked wistfully.

Mr. Parker stripped a bill from his wallet and gave it to her.

“Go buy yourself a ticket,” he said, smiling. “I’ll meet you here by the entrance in an hour.”

“Don’t you want to see the show, Dad?”

“I’ve outgrown such foolishness,” he rejoined. “I’ll find the publicity agent and have my little talk with him.”

The enticing sound of tom-toms and Indian war whoops caused Penny to forget her desire to meet the show’s publicity man. Saying goodbye to her father, she bought a ticket and hastened into the big top. For an hour she sat through a very mediocre performance, consisting in the main part of cowboy and Indian horseback riding. The concluding event, a tableau, depicted an attack by redskins upon an early English colony settlement. It was all very boring, and Penny left in the middle of the performance.

Mr. Parker was not waiting at the entrance way. Loitering about for a time, she inquired of a workman and learned that her father was in one of the small tents close by. The flap had been rolled back, permitting her to see a sharp-faced man of thirty who sat at a desk piled with papers.

“Is that the show’s publicity agent?” she asked the workman.

“Yep, Bill McJavins,” he answered. “He’s sure put new life into this outfit. We’ve been packin’ them in ever since he took over.”

Within a few minutes Mr. Parker joined Penny and from the expression of his face, she immediately guessed that his interview had not been very successful.

“I take it that Bill McJavins didn’t break down and confess all?” she inquired lightly.

“He denied any connection with those stones found in Riverview,” Mr. Parker replied. “But in the next breath he admitted he knew all about them and intends to capitalize on the story.”

“Just how will it help the show?”

“From what McJavins told me, I gather the program includes an historical pageant.”

“That would be a flattering name for it.”

“In the pageant, Indians attack a white settlement. A beautiful maiden escapes, and chisels on a stone tablet an account of the massacre—then she, too, succumbs to the tomahawk.”

“You seem to know more about the show than I,” Penny laughed. “Anyway, I’m glad to learn how it came out!”

“It’s my guess that McJavins hopes to profit by a tie-up between the stone writing of the pageant and the finding of similar rocks near Riverview. It’s a cheap trick, and the hoax would have been exposed a long time ago if museum authorities were awake!”

Neither discouraged nor too much elated by the results of the trip, Mr. Parker and Penny returned to Riverview. It was exactly noon when they reached the newspaper office.

“I trust you plan to attend school this afternoon,” the editor reminded his daughter. “By lunching downtown you’ll have plenty of time to get there.”

Loitering about the newsroom as long as she dared, Penny crossed the street to have a sandwich at a quick-lunch cafe. As she reached the restaurant she observed a familiar figure coming toward her.

“Rhoda Wiegand!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t you going in the wrong direction?”

“I’m cutting classes for the afternoon,” the trailer camp girl replied, pausing. “Mr. Coaten expects me to meet him at the Fischer Building. Can you tell me where it is?”

“Three blocks straight down the street,” Penny directed. She hesitated and then said: “Rhoda, it’s none of my affair, but I do hope you’re not agreeing to Mr. Coaten’s proposal.”

“The adoption? Yes, I am, Penny. I’ve tried to hold out against them all, but I can’t do it. Ted signed the papers two days ago. Since then I’ve had no peace. Ted keeps after me, the Breens want me to do it, and Mr. Coaten says I am selfish.”

“We both know Mr. Coaten intends to profit in some way at your expense.”

“I do feel that way about it. If only I dared stand firm—”

“You must,” Penny said earnestly. Deliberately taking Rhoda’s arm she turned her about. “You’re to break that appointment and have luncheon with me. I’ll assume all the responsibility.”