The roar of the wind as the seaplane once more took to the air made conversation impossible. Wrapped in Joe Wells’ coat, Flash shivered and chattered, and drew a sigh of relief when at last the harbor was reached. Not until then did he tell any of the details of his adventure.
“This day’s deed should win another salary increase for you, Flash,” Joe said heartily. “But it won’t do you any good if you come down with pneumonia!”
Flash borrowed a dry outfit, and the two photographers caught a taxi back to the Ledger building. As they burst into the newsroom, Riley, who had remained overtime at his desk, leaped to his feet.
“We got the pictures, Chief,” Wells announced dramatically. “Or rather, Flash did.”
“You both had your nerve disregarding my orders,” Riley chuckled. “I want to hear all about it. But first, develop those films, and let’s see what we have.”
Flash and Joe were the target of envious glances, from the other photographers, as they entered the department. Shutting themselves up in the darkroom, they decided to develop the rolls of film one at a time to avoid any risk of scratching the negatives.
The rolls were of all sizes and length. Anxiously, Flash and Joe put the first batch through and examined the negatives under the light. They could make out a few blurred figures but that was all. Every picture was so badly out of focus that it could not be used.
“Better luck on the others—maybe,” said Joe gloomily.
Another roll turned out to be over-exposed. Not until they came to the seventh strip did they obtain a single printable picture. Even so the films would need to be specially treated, and the subject matter was scarcely worth the bother.
“Looks as if we’ve bought six hundred dollars worth of nothing,” Joe muttered.