I arrived in Denver by train about a week later. I made my way back to the boardinghouse I had been living in before Signore Difranco had gotten me a room at the Windsor Hotel. Luckily, there was still a room available. Then I took a street trolley to the Denver Sun. When I walked in, one of the editors shouted at me: "Back already?"

"Is Mr. Harris in?" I asked.

"Should be somewhere in the back getting tomorrow's edition ready."

I found Mr. Harris in the composing room watching his Bullock cylinder printing press as paper was fed into the machine from a roll. It was a remarkable machine, able to print on both sides of the paper and to produce some fifteen thousand pages per hour. I had never seen anything like it in Lawrence or Dodge City.

He looked up...

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