This reminder of what he was about to lose proved too much for Miggsy. The mention of that munificent salary quenched the last flicker of his conscience. “You don’t have to get nobody else, Mr. Gale,” he said hastily. “I’m going to cover police for you. I’m going back to the _Bulletin_ office now, to get them pictures.” At this the elder Gale smiled at him approvingly, while the younger Gale slapped him heartily on the back. “That’s the way to talk, old chap!” the latter exclaimed. “I see you’ve got the right stuff in you, after all. You’re going to make a great reporter. Bring those negatives here just as soon as you can, and if any prints have been made, don’t fail to grab all of them. Don’t forget, Mr. Miggles, that not a single copy must be left behind.” “I understand,” said the boy. “You want me to make sure that them pictures ain’t published in the _Bulletin_ to-morrow morning. I get you.” Miggsy had been sent out by one of the _Bulletin’s_ reporters to purchase a paper of tobacco; and while he had been gone considerably longer than this errand required, the delay was not commented upon when he returned. Of course, nobody in the _Bulletin_ office dreamed of suspecting that the youngster had been in the camp of the enemy. Consequently it was not a difficult matter for Miggsy to obtain possession of those precious negatives. The ruse which he employed in order to obtain them has already been described. Having ascertained that no prints had as yet been made, he slipped the films into his pocket, and hurried down the stairs which led from the _Bulletin’s_ photo-engraving room to the street. But on his way down, as he passed the closed door of the editorial room, he experienced a sudden qualm. The sight of that familiar door brought to him a realization of the enormity of his act. “It seems like a rotten trick to double cross the old pape,” he mused. “Mr. Carroll has always treated me pretty white. That time when I was laid up with a broken ankle he sent me wages around to the house every week, and kept me job open for me until I was well again.” The thought caused him to hesitate on the stairway, but the hesitation was only momentary. There came to his mind, just then, the recollection of that time when he had asked the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ to give him a chance as a reporter, and Carroll had laughed uproariously at the suggestion. That recollection was sufficient to harden his heart. “The _Chronicle_ is willing to make me a reporter, at fifteen dollars a week,” he mused. “Wouldn’t I be a chump to pass up this grand opportunity? I guess Carroll will be darned sorry he laughed when he sees me coverin’ police for the rival pape.” Ten minutes later he was once more in the private office of the proprietor of the _Chronicle_. The Gales, father and son, received him with great cordiality. “Did you get them, young man?” the elder Gale inquired eagerly.