The Camera Chap grabbed his friend’s hand impulsively. “Old man,” he cried, “I’m tickled to death to hear you talk like that—although it’s only what I expected, of course.
“Tell me, Mr. Editor,” he went on eagerly, “could you use some snapshots on your front page every issue—good, live snapshots taken on the streets of Oldham? It seems to me that they would brighten up the sheet and help circulation.”
“Of course they would,” Carroll declared regarding Hawley with astonishment. “I’d be mighty glad to have them. But where could I get them?”
The Camera Chap made a mock obeisance. “I should feel highly honored, sir, if you would appoint me staff photographer of the Oldham Bulletin. The position would be only temporary, of course, and the salary would be nothing.”
“You!” exclaimed Carroll, with an incredulous laugh. “You don’t mean to say that, after the narrow escape you’ve just had, you’d be rash enough to attempt to take any more pictures on the streets of this town?”
“Appoint me as your staff photographer,” said the[Pg 45] Camera Chap earnestly, “and I’ll undertake to supply you with at least one good snapshot for every issue.”
“Taken on the streets of Oldham?”
“Yes—in most cases,” Hawley replied.
Carroll stared at him in astonishment. “What’s the idea, Frank?” he asked. “How on earth do you expect to get away with it?”
The Camera Chap chuckled. “Guerrilla warfare, old man,” he said. “It’ll be the rarest sport I’ve ever had. Guerrilla warfare with a camera.”