In moving about Clay bumped his face against a hard substance under Alex’s coat.
“Say,” he asked, rubbing his nose, “what kind of an infernal machine have you got under there? Are you trying to carry away a piece of the mountain? Or just blow it up? You nearly broke my face.”
Alex clapped his hand to his side and Clay could feel him chuckling, his body shaking with suppressed mirth.
“I’ve got the big idea!” Alex said, then. “That’s my dandy kodak you bunted into! Had it with me, taking pictures, to-day, and forgot to leave it in our luxurious private car. Lucky, eh?”
“I don’t see any luck in it for me,” grumbled Clay, still nursing his nose. “Why don’t you keep out of the way when you go about armed like that?”
Alex chuckled again and moved around the angle of the rock, toward the fire. Clay seized him by the foot and held him back, squirming.
“You’ll find out if they are train robbers if you go fooling around there,” he said. “What fool thing are you trying to do?”
“Leave go of my foot!” exclaimed Alex kicking like a mule. “I’m going to get a snapshot for my private collection.”
“You may get a shot that won’t be much of a snap,” Clay replied, in better humor. “Can you get by the angle of the rock far enough to do the trick? I’d like a copy of that photograph myself.”
“Of course I can,” was the reply. “I can see four men at the fire now, and they are all set for a good picture. Wait a minute!” he added. “One of them is going to throw a lot of brush on the blaze. I’ll show you a peach of a flashlight effect before long.”