He evidently understood what we were about, for he scowled deeply and walked rapidly away through the woods, without, however, offering to molest us. He carried a small black grip with him.
As the man’s retreating figure disappeared through the trees, Lester and I drew a long breath of relief, for we felt like criminals detected in a crime, and we were a trifle afraid of the fellow beside.
We wandered on a little further, snapping a few more wayside pictures, and then turned toward home and retraced our steps.
That afternoon, Lester came over to my father’s house to witness the development of the morning’s pictures.
As, one by one, we put the plates through the developer, a majority came out well. One or two were a trifle under-exposed, and there were minor defects in others; but, on the whole, they were very good.
The star negative of the lot, however, was that of the stranger whom I had photographed drinking, and who had turned his head and caught me in the act. That was perfect. Everything was brilliantly sharp, and the shutter had caught the man’s full face. In the negative, even so small an object as his eyes stood out beautifully.
We made a blue-print of this negative, and both Lester and myself recognized the faithfulness of the likeness, notwithstanding the fact that we had seen the man but a moment.
About the middle of the afternoon, my father returned from the neighboring town, ten miles away, in one of the banks of which he was clerk. He seemed to be much excited and perturbed about something. My mother noticed it also, and immediately inquired as to the cause of his uneasiness.
“The bank was robbed last night,” he answered, “and over fifty thousand dollars stolen. Every cent I had in the world is gone with the rest.”
My mother made an exclamation of dismay.