“Hold on, Flarity,” spoke a new voice. “I’ll lend him my badge. You know me; don’t you?” and there stepped forward a young fellow whom Blake recognized as a newspaper reporter, to whom he had often given pictures of accidents, for the journal he represented.
“Well, Kennedy, if you let him take your badge, I guess it will be all right,” said the officer to the reporter.
“Say, that’s mighty good of you!” cried Blake, as the newspaper man passed up the metal badge that entitled the wearer to go within the fire lines, “but what will you do?”
“Oh, I guess Flarity won’t put me out,” said the reporter, with a laugh. “If he does, I know something about him——”
“Get on with you!” interrupted the officer, hastily, and with a rather embarrassed smile. “I’ll look the other way, Kennedy.”
“I thought you would,” laughed the reporter. “Now you’re all right, Blake,” and he nodded, in a friendly fashion, at the moving picture boy.
Munson’s plan had failed, and he moved away to look for another place whence he could film the fire. He cast an ugly look at Blake as he went, though, and muttered to himself.
“I’m sorry I had to do this,” thought Blake, “but I wasn’t going to pass up a chance like this. Munson may make trouble for us, though. He’s got a revengeful disposition. But if Joe and I go out to the flooded district probably we shan’t see him for some time.”
If Blake had really known the depth of the resentment Munson cherished against him, from that moment, he might have given in to the fellow. Had he done so it would have saved much trouble for himself and Joe later. But he could not foretell the future.
Blake continued to take pictures of the fire, and he was beginning to think his film would run out, when Joe came up with a fresh reel. The policeman had gone away, and there was now so much excitement about the fire that no one minded whether Joe had a badge or not. He relieved Blake at the camera.