Chapter XIV: A Mad Undertaking

The Camera Chap watched the puzzled face of the _Bulletin’s_ editor as the latter pondered on his rash proposal. “Do I get the job, Fred?” he inquired eagerly. “May I consider myself a regular staff photographer of the Oldham _Daily Bulletin_?”

“You may not,” Carroll replied emphatically. “You reckless Indian!” he added, with a laugh. “Do you think for a minute that I’m going to listen to such a proposition? This stunt that you propose is the wildest idea that has ever taken shape in that harum-scarum brain of yours. If I thought that you were tired of liberty and had a feverish longing to spend the next six months in jail, I might be willing to consider your offer. But I have no reason to believe that such is the case.”

Hawley grinned. “I have no desire to go to prison, and no intention of going there if I can possibly keep out,” he declared. “But really I don’t see any reason why the venture should have such a disastrous result.”

“You don’t, eh?” rejoined Carroll with an ironical laugh. “I suppose if that chair you are sitting on were a keg of dynamite, you’d see no particular danger in drumming your heels against its sides. Do you suppose you could go out taking snapshots on the highways of Oldham in defiance of the new anticamera law, and keep out of the clutches of the police? You might possibly get away with the first picture, although even that is doubtful; but you’d surely be nabbed on your second attempt.”

“Why are you so sure of that?” Hadley inquired.

“Why am I sure of it? Why am I sure that a man who couldn’t swim would drown if he were to jump overboard from the hurricane deck of a liner in mid-Atlantic on a dark night? Because, my reckless young friend, my common sense enables me to foresee clearly what would happen in both cases. Our friend, Chief Hodgins, would stay awake night and day in order to take advantage of such a grand opportunity to get even with you. Every policeman of the Oldham force would have instructions to bring you in, alive or dead. My esteemed contemporary, the _Chronicle_, would publish a full description of you, refer to you as ‘the camera bandit,’ and appeal to all good citizens to aid in your capture. The whole city of Oldham would be on the watch for you. What chance would you have?”

A sparkle came to the eyes of the Camera Chap. “By Jove, Fred, that’s an alluring picture you’ve painted!” he exclaimed, with great enthusiasm.

“Alluring?” repeated the other deprecatingly.

“Yes. I hadn’t figured that it would be quite as exciting as all that. But I have no doubt the conditions will be just as you’ve pictured them, and I can see that I’m going to have even more fun than I expected.”

“Fun! Do you mean to say that you could get any fun out of a situation of that sort?”

“Why, of course,” Hawley replied simply. “Think of the sport of taking snapshots in the face of such difficulties! Think of the fun of dodging those fellows! The greater the danger, you know, Fred, the more fascination there is to the picture game. There’s nothing in taking snapshots which require no risk.”

To some men who did not know Frank Hawley, these words might have sounded suspiciously like bombast; but Carroll knew well that the New York _Sentinel’s_ star camera man was no braggart, and that what he had just said simply and truly expressed his viewpoint regarding “the picture game.”

“But, apart from the good time I shall have, think what a great thing this snapshot campaign of mine will be for the _Bulletin_,” the Camera Chap continued earnestly. “I predict a big boom in your paper’s circulation, Fred, as soon as I get started. The more I’m denounced by the police and the _Chronicle_, the more eager people will be to see the pictures taken by ‘the desperate camera bandit.’ _Bulletins_ will sell like hot cakes, Fred, and your coffers will be full of real money. For Miss Melba’s sake, as well as your own, you’ve got to accept my proposition.”

In spite of himself, a wistful expression came to Carroll’s face. He realized the truth of what Hawley said. He had every reason to believe that snapshots taken under such conditions and published daily on the front page of the _Bulletin_ would greatly increase the sale of that paper.

He had been furnished a striking proof of this a few days earlier when he had published those snapshots showing Chief of Police Hodgins asleep at his desk. There had been a big rise in circulation that day. Papers had sold as fast as the newsboys could hand them out. Everybody in Oldham had appreciated the joke on the fat chief of police and rushed to procure copies of those amusing pictures. And the very next day the sale of the _Bulletin_ had fallen off, showing Carroll conclusively that it was Hawley’s snapshots alone which had brought about that sudden and all too transient wave of prosperity.

Therefore the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ was sorely tempted now by the Camera Chap’s offer; but, putting his own interests aside, he shook his head in emphatic negation.

“I admit that it might help our circulation along, old man,” he began; “but you see----”

“It would probably bring you a lot of advertising, too,” Hawley broke in. “Really, Fred, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if this camera campaign resulted in a bunch of nice, fat advertising contracts for the _Bulletin_.”

“I doubt that,” said Carroll. “It is true that increased advertising generally follows increased circulation; but it wouldn’t in my case. As I told you the other day, most of the big advertisers of this town are connected in some way or other with that bunch of grafters the _Bulletin_ is fighting, and they wouldn’t advertise in our columns no matter what figures our circulation books might show.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t,” the Camera Chap rejoined; “but there are lots of others who would. I wasn’t thinking about the local advertisers. I have in mind the big concerns--the breakfast-food people, the purveyors of potted ham, canned soups, cocoa, and mixed pickles; the manufacturers of safety razors, automobiles, shaving soaps, ready-made clothing, et cetera. That’s the kind of advertising we’ll get for your sheet, Fred.”

Carroll laughed grimly. “Don’t you suppose I’ve been after all those people already? There’s nothing doing with any of them. I’ve called personally on those whose advertising offices are in near-by cities, and spent a small fortune in postage stamps corresponding with the rest. Not one of them could be made to see that it would be to his advantage to advertise in the Oldham _Bulletin_.”

“Of course not,” exclaimed Hawley; “not while your circulation is as low as it is at present. Naturally, they’ve no desire to throw their money away. But wait until we’ve boosted the _Bulletin’s_ circulation sky-high. Then we can talk contracts to them, and I’ll wager they’ll be ready enough to listen.

“So, you see, Fred,” he added laughingly, “you really can’t afford to turn down my application for the position of staff photographer on your esteemed paper.”