GUERRILLA WARFARE.
“I suppose you are going to get after those fellows now and send them
both to jail for conspiracy,” said Fred Carroll to Hawley, as he sat
chatting in the _Bulletin_ office half an hour after the Camera Chap’s
triumphant departure from the police court. “You’ve certainly a strong
case against them.”
“Oh, no! I shan’t bother,” Hawley replied. “I think their disappointment
is punishment enough for them. I had the last laugh, and I’m quite
satisfied. As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed. Of course,
though, it’s possible that the magistrate may deem it his duty to take
up the matter on his own hook.”
“There’s not much chance of that,” said Carroll, with a laugh. “Wall and
Hodgins are good friends. I guess the judge will be only too glad to let
the matter drop, if you don’t press it.
“And I’m mighty glad to hear you say you don’t intend to do so, old
man,” the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ declared. “On Melba’s account, I
mean. She hasn’t much use for her cousin; but still, she’d be greatly
distressed, I guess, if he were sent to jail. She’s a very sensitive
girl, and no doubt would feel the disgrace keenly.”
“If I had any desire to prosecute those fellows--which I haven’t--that
argument would be quite sufficient to stop me,” the Camera Chap
declared. “I wouldn’t for worlds do anything to distress Miss Gale.
She’s one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met. You are, indeed, to be
congratulated, Fred.”
“Who? Me?” exclaimed Carroll, making a clumsy attempt to appear
bewildered. “What the dickens are you talking about, Frank?”
Hawley laughed. “Say, do you think I’m blind? Don’t you suppose I got
wise to the situation as soon as I saw you two together to-day? You
might as well ’fess up, old scout.”
“I suppose I might as well,” the other answered, grinning sheepishly.
“Yes, Frank, you’ve hit it right--though how the deuce you guessed it,
you infernal old wizard, I can’t imagine--Melba and I are secretly
engaged. She’s the finest girl in the world, and----”
“Why secretly engaged?” the Camera Chap broke in hastily. He had had
experience with fellows in love before, and he knew that once they get
to talking about the fair one’s charms it is mighty hard to get them to
stop.
“I should think you’d be glad to proclaim your engagement to all the
world,” he added. “Why on earth are you keeping it a secret?”
“Because Melba insists upon it,” Carroll explained. “You see, poor
little girl, she’s an orphan, and her uncle and cousin are the only kin
she has. She doesn’t want to be turned out of her uncle’s home, and she
has an idea that that’s what would happen if the fact of our engagement
were to become known to that old fox.”
Hawley nodded. “I see. Does the uncle know that you are even on speaking
terms with her?”
“Oh, yes! He is aware that we are acquainted. I used to call on her at
the house when I first came to Oldham, until he made it quite clear to
me that my presence there was not desired--by him.”
“And since then you have kept away?” chuckled Hawley.
“Sure! I didn’t want to embarrass Melba. Of course, we have been meeting
frequently outside right along; but I don’t think the old man has any
suspicion of that.”
“Well, why don’t you elope with the girl?” the Camera Chap suggested.
“It seems to me that, under the circumstances, that’s the only thing to
do. If I were in your place, Fred, I’d have married her long ago.”
Carroll frowned. “You’re talking like an idiot,” he declared
indignantly. “How can I get married when I haven’t a cent to my name? As
I told you the other day, the _Bulletin_ isn’t making enough money to
support even me alone. If I married Melba in my present circumstances
I’d deserve to be sent to State’s prison--or a lunatic asylum.”
“Well, what’s the matter with giving up the _Bulletin_ and going back to
Park Row?” the Camera Chap suggested, watching his friend’s face
narrowly. “As a reporter, you could at least make enough to support a
wife.”
To Hawley’s great joy, a grim, fighting look came to Carroll’s face at
these words.
“Give up the _Bulletin_!” he exclaimed tensely. “Not while there’s a
breath of life left in the old sheet. I’m no quitter, Frank. I thought
you knew me better than that. Those fellows have got me groggy, I must
admit; but they haven’t got me quite down and out yet. When that
happens, I may go back to Park Row and hunt a job as a reporter, but not
before.
“And even if I wanted to quit,” he went on, with a whimsical smile, “I
couldn’t do it. Melba wouldn’t hear of it. She’s thoroughly in sympathy
with the policy of the _Bulletin_, and she wouldn’t have much use for me
if I were to give up the fight.”
The Camera Chap grabbed his friend’s hand impulsively. “Old man,” he
cried, “I’m tickled to death to hear you talk like that--although it’s
only what I expected, of course.
“Tell me, Mr. Editor,” he went on eagerly, “could you use some snapshots
on your front page every issue--good, live snapshots taken on the
streets of Oldham? It seems to me that they would brighten up the sheet
and help circulation.”
“Of course they would,” Carroll declared regarding Hawley with
astonishment. “I’d be mighty glad to have them. But where could I get
them?”
The Camera Chap made a mock obeisance. “I should feel highly honored,
sir, if you would appoint me staff photographer of the Oldham
_Bulletin_. The position would be only temporary, of course, and the
salary would be nothing.”
“You!” exclaimed Carroll, with an incredulous laugh. “You don’t mean to
say that, after the narrow escape you’ve just had, you’d be rash enough
to attempt to take any more pictures on the streets of this town?”
“Appoint me as your staff photographer,” said the Camera Chap
earnestly, “and I’ll undertake to supply you with at least one good
snapshot for every issue.”
“Taken on the streets of Oldham?”
“Yes--in most cases,” Hawley replied.
Carroll stared at him in astonishment. “What’s the idea, Frank?” he
asked. “How on earth do you expect to get away with it?”
The Camera Chap chuckled. “Guerrilla warfare, old man,” he said. “It’ll
be the rarest sport I’ve ever had. Guerrilla warfare with a camera.”