The man reached the shanty, and knocked. To Jack’s surprise the door was opened by a negro.
Wonder at this was quickly forgotten, however, for as the door closed from the woods behind Jack came the sound of voices, then an ejaculation in Italian. A moment Jack stood, in consternation, believing he had been seen. But a glance showed that the owners of the voices were yet out of sight beyond a rise, and recalling his wits, Jack ran for a nearby clump of elders.
The voices came quickly nearer. Suddenly then, for the first time Jack recalled the camera. At once came the suggestion to get a snap of the newcomers as they stepped into the clearing.
Jack glanced about him. A short distance away, and but a few feet from the path, was a low, tent-like spruce. With instant decision he made for it, drawing the camera from his pocket as he ran.
Dropping to his knees, he wormed his way beneath the tree, and through to the opposite side. Finding an aperture commanding the exit of the path, he opened and focused the camera upon it. The next moment the two Italians appeared. For the fraction of a second Jack hesitated, fearing the click of the shutter might betray him. But he took the chance, there was a crisp, low click—and he had them, and they had passed on.
Chuckling with delight, Jack crept forth. What next? Looking toward the shanty, he again saw the door opened by the negro. This decided him. Replacing the camera in his pocket, he set off on a circuit through the trees that would bring him back to the clearing immediately opposite the shanty, determined if possible to reach it, and learn what was going on inside.
Without incident he made the point desired, and gazing from the cover of a bush, discovered with satisfaction that the two hundred yards separating him from his goal was dotted with small bushy spruce. More important still, on that side of the cabin were no windows.
Stooping, Jack was about to steal forth, when he paused with a new idea. It came from a stray piece of wrapping-paper lying on the ground before him.
Why couldn’t he conceal the camera in this paper, with a string tied to the shutter; approach the house, knock, ask some question, and secretly snap whoever opened the door?
To think was to decide, and at once he set about preparations. Finding some cord in a pocket, he first deadened the click of the shutter with a thread of the string, and secured a piece of it to the shutter trigger. Carefully then he wrapped the camera, open, in the paper, and with his knife cut a small hole opposite the lens, and a second and smaller hole beneath. Through the latter he fished out the trigger-string—and the detective camera was complete.