“Don’t bother your head about that. It’s worth a dozen tripods to be a hero.”
“If you don’t shut down on that talk, I’ll leave you at once,” burst out Bob. “I’m not a hero, never was, and am not likely to be. Here’s a bit of strong string. Let me see if I can’t splice the broken leg of your machine.”
Frank said no more, and, sitting down, Bob took the tripod and speedily mended the split leg.
This done, the two proceeded to take several pictures of the spot, including one of the place where the thrilling scene recorded had occurred.
“I’ll give you a copy of it,” said Frank. “And perhaps I’ll send one to Miss Maverick.”
Bob was very much interested in the taking of the pictures, and asked innumerable questions.
“We’ll stop at Fitt’s Half-way House to-night,” said Frank. “And then I’ll show you how to develop the plates. You have to do it in a dark room.”
“How can you see to show me, then?” asked Bob, and Frank laughed.
“We use a red light,” said the young man. “It is the only light that doesn’t affect the plates.”
“Do you know, I would like to become a photographer,” burst out Bob. “It must be an interesting business.”