said Blake, grimly. "Well," he went on, as he picked up the camera, and found that it was not damaged, "I guess I'll change my clothes. These don't look just fit for going to a party," and he laughed. The camera had closed automatically when he ceased grinding at the crank, so no pictures were spoiled.
"Can we do anything?" asked one of the men in the boat. They were working on the levee, and had dropped everything, and pushed off in their craft, when Joe's cry of alarm reached them.
"Thank you—no. It's all over," said Blake, as Joe guided the motor boat back to her moorings.
Nothing worse than a wetting was the result of Blake's tumble overboard, and soon, in dry clothing, he was ready for whatever came next. As they had enough pictures of the work on the levee, and at the cotton wharf, the boys decided to await the return of Mr. Ringold and the actor, who had now been gone some time.
"Suppose we go up to town ourselves," suggested Blake, after a bit. "It will give us a chance to stretch our legs, and we can help carry back the rest of the supplies," for the latter had not all been put on board yet.
"I'm with you," agreed Joe; and, seeing that
