But Joe did not give his chum a chance. He went on hastily:
“I think we ought to go out there with our moving picture cameras, and get some films of that flood.”
“I thought you were going to say that.”
“Then you’re not surprised. But how does it strike you?”
“Well, I sure would like to see the Mississippi on a tear the like of which she’s having now, for it would be something worth remembering. And I suppose we could make a neat little sum, over and above our expenses, if we went out there and got a lot of films. We could work them off through the moving picture newspaper syndicate easily enough. But you know why we came out here to Central Falls; don’t you, Joe?” added Blake.
“To get a good rest in the country, of course.”
“That’s it, and we’re getting it. There isn’t anything I like better than this,” and Blake, who had stretched out in lazy luxury on the grass, looked up at the blue sky, and into the cherry tree, which was laden with luscious fruit. “All I want now is a robin to come along, pick the cherries and drop them down to me,” went on Blake, with a grin.
“Say, you don’t want much,” laughed Joe. “But it sure is nice here,” and he looked across the fertile farm acres that stretched away to the rear, and on either side of the comfortable house, in the shade of which they were taking their ease.
“Finest place we could strike to spend a vacation,” agreed Blake.
“But, all the same, I think we’re missing a chance if we don’t go out there and get some Mississippi flood pictures,” went on Joe. “How does it strike you?”