“Boys, if you could only get moving pictures of the capture of the wreckers!”
Thus exclaimed Mr. Ringold when his two young employees told of the plans afoot and asked to be excused from work a little longer.
“It would be great,” admitted Joe.
“But we’d need a powerful light,” said Blake, “and if we had that it would warn the men we’re after.”
“That’s so,” spoke the theatrical man. “I guess it’s out of the question. But you have done such wonderful work so far, that I’d like you to keep it up. A film of the capture of wreckers would make an audience sit up and take notice.”
“I guess I’ll have to invent some sort of a light that would make it possible,” put in Mr. Hadley; “but I’m afraid I can’t have it ready to-night.”
“Then you don’t mind if we go?” asked Blake.
“No, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Ringold, “and I wish you all success.”
“It’s going to be a dark night,” remarked Blake, a little later, as he and Joe were on their way to the lighthouse. It was early evening, but the sky was clouding over and a wind was coming up that sent the big billows bounding up on the sand with a booming noise like the discharge of distant cannon.
“Yes, we’ll have to sort of feel our way along,” said Joe. “But I guess we can find the place, all right.”