“We didn’t know anything about it,” Doyle replied. “We’re on our way to Herbert Rascomb’s lodge.”
“You’ll be in no danger there. At least, not unless the wind should shift again.”
“I wonder if we couldn’t get some fire pictures for News-Vue!” Flash began speculatively. “How far is Craig Point from Rascomb’s place?”
Before the ranger could answer, Doyle broke in impatiently:
“Listen, we’re not doing any fire pictures this trip! Mugging the Rajah will be the extent of our labors.”
Now that it had been called to their attention, Flash and Doyle both imagined they could smell smoke in the air. They could not see it, nor were they able to detect any actual signs of fire.
“It seems to me we’re passing up an unusual opportunity,” Flash remarked, as they rode on.
“You’re new at this business,” Doyle replied discouragingly. “When you first start in everything looks like a wonderful idea. I helped cover a forest fire in Minnesota two years ago. It was no fun, I’m telling you.”
“I shouldn’t think it would be.”
“You burn yourself to a crisp and ruin your clothes. Then more than likely your shots are no good, or the editor cuts ’em out in favor of a bathing beauty parade at Atlantic City! Not for me.”