"Oh, well, I don't exactly say he's a _spy_," returned Blake,
almost wavering. "Let it go. Maybe I am wrong."

"Yes, I think you are," said Joe. "I like that chap, and I think
we'll have fine times together."

"We'll have hard work, that's one thing sure," Blake declared. "It
isn't going to be easy to get good pictures of the big ditch. And
waiting for one of those Culebra Cut slides is going to be like
camping on the trail of a volcano, I think. You can't tell when
it's going to happen."

"That's right," agreed Joe with a laugh. "Well, we'll do the best
we can, old man. And now let's go on a picnic, or something, to
finish out our vacation. We won't get another this year, perhaps."

"Let's go down and see how they're coming on with the new bridge,
where the horse tried to jump over the ravine," suggested Blake,
and, a little later they were speeding in that direction.

The final week of their stay in the country went by quickly
enough, and though the boys appreciated their vacation in the
quiet precincts of Central Falls, they were not altogether sorry
when the time came to leave.

For, truth to tell, they were very enthusiastic about their moving
picture work, and though they were no fonder of a "grind" than any
real boys are, they were always ready to go back to the clicking
cranks that unwound the strips of celluloid film, which caught on
its sensitive surface the impressions of so many wonderful scenes.