<h2 id="c11"><span class="h2line1">CHAPTER XI</span> <br/><span class="h2line2"><i>HIGH WATER</i></span></h2>
<p>Bailey Brooks arose to greet the newcomer. As
he turned to introduce Flash, Captain Johns
forestalled him by saying in a curt voice:</p>
<p>“We have met before, I believe!”</p>
<p>“At the Columbia Hospital,” recalled Flash.</p>
<p>The Captain seated himself on the opposite side of
the table, regarding the cameraman with a cold scrutiny
which was not easy to interpret. Assuming that
he was an intruder at a private business conference,
Flash offered an apology and started to leave.</p>
<p>“No, don’t go.” Captain Johns waved him back
into his chair. “Finish your dinner. Why did you
fail to keep your promise to Major Hartgrove?”</p>
<p>Flash now understood the reason behind the officer’s
coolness. Major Hartgrove had reported his
failure to give up the requested pictures.</p>
<p>“I made no promise,” he replied.</p>
<p>“It was understood that you would bring the pictures
to the hospital without delay.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</div>
<p>“The Major may have understood it that way,” replied
Flash evenly. “But I work for the <i>News-Vue</i>
Company, not the United States Army.”</p>
<p>Captain Johns’ lips twisted in a faint suggestion of
a smile. Yet his voice had an edge to it as he asked:</p>
<p>“You still have those pictures?”</p>
<p>“I have.”</p>
<p>“What is your reason for withholding them?”</p>
<p>“No reason,” Flash admitted cheerfully. “As a
matter of fact, I went back to the hospital yesterday
after I had them printed. The Major was gone.”</p>
<p>“You went back <i>after</i> you had looked at them yourself?”</p>
<p>“Quite right, sir. I wanted to see what I was giving
away. Just protecting my paper, you know.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” responded Captain Johns dryly.
“You may be interested to learn that Major Hartgrove
has been removed to the army hospital at Melveredge
Field.”</p>
<p>“Doing well I hope.”</p>
<p>“He will be dismissed tomorrow or the day following.
Now about those pictures. Where are they
now?”</p>
<p>“In my room at the hotel.”</p>
<p>“May I see them?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</div>
<p>“I’ll be glad to show them to you, Captain,” replied
Flash, grinning. “But I don’t think you’ll find them
of any aid in running down the man who struck the
Major.”</p>
<p>“Let me be the judge of that. Now as I recall, Major
Hartgrove said you were the first person to reach
him after the train wreck.”</p>
<p>“Hardly the first, sir. As I approached the car, I
saw someone slipping away into the dark. It may
have been the man who robbed him.”</p>
<p>“You are mistaken. Major Hartgrove was not
robbed.”</p>
<p>“I understood otherwise.”</p>
<p>“An attempt was made to take Major Hartgrove’s
wallet. The man did not succeed.”</p>
<p>Flash accepted the explanation without comment.
He was rather inclined to believe that the Major had
not been robbed. However, it seemed unreasonable
that the army men would be making such strenuous
efforts to apprehend an ordinary thief. Obviously
Major Hartgrove had carried military papers or something
of far greater value than money.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</div>
<p>Ignoring Bailey Brooks for the moment, Captain
Johns asked Flash a number of questions about his actions
following the train wreck. Cleverly but without
success he tried to make the cameraman contradict
himself. At last, he seemed satisfied the young man
was telling the truth, and turned his attention once
more to the parachute jumper.</p>
<p>After the meal had ended, Captain Johns volunteered
to go with Flash to his room. The three walked
together to the Clarinda Hotel.</p>
<p>George Doyle looked up in surprise as Flash pushed
open the bedroom door. He rose quickly to his feet.</p>
<p>“You remember Bailey Brooks,” said Flash. “And
this is Captain Ernest Johns.”</p>
<p>Doyle was impressed by the caller. He lost his customary
indifference and put himself out to be agreeable.
But the captain paid him scant attention.</p>
<p>“I have only a few minutes,” he said impatiently.
“May I see the pictures now, please?”</p>
<p>Flash found the envelope in his luggage. Doyle sat
watching him curiously as he sorted through the
prints.</p>
<p>“I have only one which will interest you,” he said
to the captain. “It isn’t much good.”</p>
<p>The army man examined the picture carefully and
returned it to the stack.</p>
<p>“You are right,” he admitted regretfully. “For our
purposes it is valueless.” Methodically, he thumbed
through the other prints. “Now here is an excellent
one!”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</div>
<p>“A snap I took at the races. Too bad the wreck
picture didn’t come out the same way. Conditions
were against me.”</p>
<p>Bailey Brooks had crossed the room. As Captain
Johns dropped the prints carelessly on the table, he
picked them up and glanced through the stack.</p>
<p>The army officer turned to leave but Doyle stepped
forward, neatly blocking his way.</p>
<p>“Say, Captain,” he began, “Flash and I are with
<i>News-Vue</i>, you know. What are the picture possibilities
out at Melveredge?”</p>
<p>“There are none, Mr. Doyle.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come now, I know it’s hard to get in there
these days, but it can be done with pull. How about
giving us a permit?”</p>
<p>“I regret I am not in a position to grant such a
favor,” the captain returned stiffly. “Good evening.”</p>
<p>Accompanied by Bailey Brooks, he went away. As
soon as the footsteps receded, Doyle turned angrily to
Flash.</p>
<p>“You might have said something instead of standing
there like a clam! Here the Captain is a good
friend of yours. He could have passed us into Melveredge
Field.”</p>
<p>“The Captain isn’t a friend of mine.”</p>
<p>“Then why did you bring him here?”</p>
<p>“You must have observed for yourself, Doyle. To
look at those pictures.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</div>
<p>The technician picked up the stack and glanced
through the prints.</p>
<p>“What’s all this about anyway?” he demanded.
“Why would the Captain be interested?”</p>
<p>Flash made an evasive answer which only irritated
Doyle further. Despite the technician’s displeasure,
he had no intention of taking him into his confidence.</p>
<p>“I’m tired,” he said shortly. “Let’s go to bed.”</p>
<p>It was dark in the hotel room when Flash awakened
to hear the telephone ringing. Struggling out of sleep,
he reached to roll up the window shade. A few carts
were creaking by on the street below. The sky was
barely light.</p>
<p>The telephone rang again.</p>
<p>“Answer it, will you?” growled Doyle.</p>
<p>“All right.”</p>
<p>Flash took the receiver from its hook. He was informed
by the hotel operator that long distance was
calling. As he relayed the message to Doyle, the latter
leaped from bed and seized the instrument.</p>
<p>“That must be Clewes!”</p>
<p>Doyle talked for several minutes and then hung up
the receiver.</p>
<p>“Get dressed!” he said curtly. “We’re clearing out
of here. And we haven’t much time.”</p>
<p>“What’s up?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</div>
<p>“We move again. Clewes says to let the Melveredge
pictures slide. Arrangements can’t be made with
the authorities.”</p>
<p>“A new assignment?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Not a bad one either. We’re to cover an
International polo match at Excelsior City. We ought
to be there not later than twelve-thirty.”</p>
<p>Flash looked at his watch and whistled.</p>
<p>“It’s nearly six now. Excelsior City must be at
least three hundred miles from here.”</p>
<p>“Nearer three twenty. It means fast stepping.”</p>
<p>Quickly they dressed and crammed their clothing
into suitcases. There was no time for breakfast. A
clock on the street chimed six-thirty as they pulled out
of the drowsing city.</p>
<p>A fog hung low over the valley. Before the sound
truck had covered many miles a fine, steady rain began
to fall.</p>
<p>Strangely, Doyle offered no complaint about either
the weather or the early morning call to duty. Flash
stole a curious glance at him. The technician’s face
was animated and he whistled a cheerful tune.</p>
<p>“This assignment seems to please you, Doyle.”</p>
<p>“It could be a lot worse.”</p>
<p>“What teams are playing? You haven’t told me
anything about the set-up.”</p>
<p>“An American team against one from India headed
by Rajah Mitra. Know anything about polo?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</div>
<p>“I’ve seen a few games.”</p>
<p>“Herbert Rascomb will be playing on the American
team.”</p>
<p>“Rascomb!”</p>
<p>“He’s one of the best players in the country.”</p>
<p>“I never even heard of him until a few days ago.”</p>
<p>“Rascomb doesn’t like publicity. He goes into a
rage if his picture is taken. The boys humor him, and
he returns the favor by showing them a good time at
his lodge.”</p>
<p>“Buys them off?”</p>
<p>“Nothing of the sort. It’s only to show his appreciation.
We could do with a day in the north woods,
eh?”</p>
<p>Flash avoided answering the question. Instead he
inquired:</p>
<p>“Why is Rascomb so against publicity? A pose?”</p>
<p>Doyle shrugged as he steered the sound truck into
a filling station.</p>
<p>“No, he’s just that way. But they tell me Rascomb
is a fine fellow.”</p>
<p>An attendant filled the gasoline tank, checked the
oil and replenished the water in the radiator. As
Doyle paid him, he volunteered road information.</p>
<p>“Aiming to take U.S. 49 out of here?”</p>
<p>“That’s right,” answered Doyle. “How is the road
to Excelsior City?”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</div>
<p>“The road’s in good condition. But if you want to
be on the safe side you’d better take Highway 23.
We’ve had some hard rains around here. The Coon
River is over its banks, and there’s a bad bridge about
six miles beyond town.”</p>
<p>“Then the road is closed?”</p>
<p>“They were keeping it open an hour ago. A radio
report said it would be closed if the water came any
higher.”</p>
<p>Doyle and Flash studied a map. Highway 23 was
graveled and at least fourteen miles out of their way.</p>
<p>“We’ll keep on 49 and take a chance,” Doyle decided.</p>
<p>The decision satisfied Flash, for it had occurred to
him that possibly they might have an opportunity to
take interesting flood pictures.</p>
<p>Two miles beyond the town limits they began to see
evidence of high water. Ditches on either side of the
road ran with it. In several low places tiny rivers
blocked their way. The water was not deep and they
rode through it without mishap.</p>
<p>They picked up speed on a long stretch of clear
pavement. Ahead they could see the bridge, a long,
wooden affair of ancient design. A flimsy, make-shift
barrier of boards had been raised across the entrance
way.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</div>
<p>“Closed!” muttered Doyle in disgust. “We’ll never
get to Excelsior City by game time now!”</p>
<p>He slammed on the brakes and brought the truck
to a standstill not far from the bridge. Thrusting his
head out the window, he called to one of the guards:</p>
<p>“How about letting us through? We’re newsreel
cameramen and in a big hurry.”</p>
<p>“The bridge is unsafe,” the man answered. “It’s
apt to go out any time now.”</p>
<p>Flash leaped from the truck and went to look at the
bridge. He saw for himself that much of the underpinning
had washed away. The weight of an automobile,
even higher water, would be almost certain to
shift it from its position.</p>
<p>“Water still rising?” he questioned a guard.</p>
<p>“Coming up fast, brother. Three inches in the last
twenty minutes. Another half hour and this road may
be completely covered.”</p>
<p>Flash ran back to the truck. Doyle had turned it
around and was impatiently waiting.</p>
<p>“Jump in!” he commanded. “We’re going to be
late getting to Excelsior City now that we have to
back-track.”</p>
<p>“Listen, Doyle!” Flash was excited. “While we’re
breaking our necks trying to reach there, we’ll be passing
up better pictures.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</div>
<p>“What do you mean, better pictures?”</p>
<p>“The bridge is going out any time.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Doyle retorted. “But we’re not waiting
here several hours on a slim chance like that! Our
assignment is to shoot the polo match.”</p>
<p>Flash gazed steadily at the technician.</p>
<p>“Sorry to disagree. We’re staying right here.”</p>
<p>“Say who do you think you are?” Doyle drawled
insolently. “I’m not taking orders from any fresh
kid.”</p>
<p>“I’ve taken plenty of orders from you. But not
any more. I’m washed up! Through!”</p>
<p>“Oh, so you’re through, eh? Well, quit any time
you like!”</p>
<p>“I’m not quitting,” Flash corrected. “Just letting
you know that from now on I’m not your man Friday.
Mr. Clewes gave me to understand I was to use my
own judgment about picture values. Your part is to
record the sound effects.”</p>
<p>Doyle stared at Flash. Spots of bright color tinted
his taut cheeks. With an effort he kept his voice under
control.</p>
<p>“All right, Evans, you’ll take full responsibility for
this!”</p>
<p>“I expect to,” Flash retorted grimly. “Now help
me get my stuff up on the roof! That bridge won’t
last many minutes!”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</div>
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