“Sure thing,” said Dick with a twinkle in his eye. “Nothing doing at all, except chasing crazy men and saving kidnapped babies and little things like that. Oh, yes, it was sleepy yesterday.”
Joe laughed good-naturedly.
“Trust you to get next to anything that happens,” he said. “You’ve got the nose of a fox for news. Who’s been filling you up?”
“Who hasn’t?” replied Dick with a chuckle. “The whole town is talking of nothing else. They say that a prophet is not without honor save in his own country, but that doesn’t fit your case. You’re the whole thing in Riverside.
“But say, Joe,” Dick went on jokingly, “why didn’t you wait to pull this thing off till I reached town with my little camera. My, what a scene for a moving picture! I’d have given my eyes to have a crack at it. Wild-eyed madman, holding baby above his head; frightened mob in the yard below; handsome young pitcher hurling the ball of ice. Say, I could have made a fortune with that film. All of the managers would have been crazy to get hold of it.”
“Oh, cut it out,” remonstrated Joe. “The whole bunch of you are making far too much out of it. As for your moving picture stuff, I’ve got something for you along that line that I’d like to try out if you don’t mind.”
“Of course I will,” answered Dick. “Get it off your chest. What is it?”
“I want you to take a picture of my curve ball,” answered Joe.
“It’s a pretty swift thing to take,” commented Dick. “Still, if we can show a bullet in motion, I guess we can take anything propelled by the brawny arm of Mr. Matson.”