"We might go and take a few
snaps at the counterfeiter's den. That will be fine!"
"What's that?" demanded Frank Shaw, poking his nose into the tent.
"Going to take pictures of the counterfeiters den! I'm in on that.
We'll take a bunch of pictures--enough for a first-page layout--and
send 'em in to dad's newspaper. Hot stuff! What? And I'll write the
biography of Uncle Ike, and send it in with the rest. His picture
ought to go in the center of the layout. He'll be a hero, all right."
"All right!" Ned agreed. "We'll go and take the pictures, and we'll
send them in when you get the story written! Will that answer?"
"Sure it will!"
So Ned, Jimmie, and Frank started away laughing, for all knew Frank
would never write the story, toward the counterfeiters' cave. When
they came in sight of the ridge which jutted out of the slope to make
the canyon, and under which the workroom was situated, they saw a man
moving northward, keeping close to the jagged summit of the lesser
elevation, and looking sharply about as he advanced.
"That may be one of them," Jimmie suggested.
"I don't believe it!" Frank contradicted. "What do you think, Ned?"
he added.
"Never saw the outlaws," Ned answered, "so I can't decide the
question.
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