“Say, how did they turn out?” he demanded, as soon as he entered the room where Will was opening an envelope, and Frank handling a large reading-glass.
“Just bully, that’s what. Never got better results. The water was in a beautiful ripple, you see, and that always adds to a picture. Here, take a look, fellows,” with which remark Will scattered a lot of prints on the table.
He had certainly become quite a clever hand at both developing his films and printing his pictures, for the results were as clear as a bell.
“They do look fine,” commented Frank, as he commenced to shuffle them over; “and the smoke is pouring out of that old steamboat at a great rate. I’m looking for the one you spoke about, where those hoboes are standing in the sunlight on the edge of the burning boat. Here it is. Jerry, you would be apt to know better than I could if either of these fellows has a familiar face. Take a look.”
“If he don’t, perhaps I may. I’ve lived around here three days longer than he ever did,” grumbled Bluff.
Jerry bent down closer and continued to stare through the reading-glass.
“Talk to me about your luck, boys, this beats the band!” he exclaimed.
“Do you recognize one of them, then?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“Sure I do, and I’m surprised Captain Amos didn’t. The dumpy one is Waddy Walsh, the bad egg, who was sent to the reform school three years ago. He must have escaped somehow, and joined the army of tramps on the road,” declared Jerry, positively.