"Come on down!" ordered the officer. "You can't stay there without a badge, or a permit, and and you haven't got either. Get down, I tell you!"
"Hold on, Flarity," spoke a new voice. "I'll lend him my badge. You know me; don't you?" and there stepped forward a young fellow whom Blake recognized as a newspaper reporter, to whom he had often given pictures of accidents, for the journal he represented.
"Well, Kennedy, if you let him take your badge, I guess it will be all right," said the officer to the reporter.
"Say, that's mighty good of you!" cried Blake, as the newspaper man passed up the metal badge that entitled the wearer to go within the fire lines, "but what will you do?"
"Oh, I guess Flarity won't put me out," said the reporter, with a laugh. "If he does, I know something about him"
"Get on with you!" interrupted the officer, hastily, and with a rather embarrassed smile. "I'll look the other way, Kennedy."
"I thought you would," laughed the reporter. "Now you're all right, Blake," and he nodded, in a friendly fashion, at the moving picture boy.
Munson's plan had failed, and he moved away to look for another place whence he could film
