Anxiously, Flash washed his films, watching for streaks or defects. From a photographic standpoint they were nearly perfect. With Wells hovering near, he dried the negatives and made his prints.
“Nothing wrong with your technique as far as I can see,” said the older photographer. “Those pictures are good enough to suit anyone.”
The prints were rushed to the news room. Flash waited to hear from Riley. When no word came he knew that his work was satisfactory.
Later in the morning he was sent with Wells to take pictures of a warehouse strike. Again, while not exactly covering himself with glory, his shots were equal to those of the more experienced photographer.
“I can’t get over the shock of still being on the payroll,” he confessed to his friend as they lunched together. “After what happened yesterday I was sure I would be fired.”
Wells gave him an amused glance. “Then Riley didn’t tell you?”
“Flash, some folks are just naturally born with a rabbit’s foot,” Wells grinned. “You’re one of ’em. Know who that old man was you rescued yesterday?”
“I saw in the paper his name was John Gelette.”
Wells bit into a doughnut. “To tell you the truth, I never heard of the old duffer myself until yesterday,” he admitted. “But it turns out he’s a first cousin to Cordell Burman. I trust you’ve heard of him?”
“Exactly,” responded Wells dryly. “No one needs to teach you the secret of getting on, my lad. Your job is safe for awhile. In fact, I shouldn’t be surprised if you found a raise tucked into your next pay envelope.”
Joe Wells’ words proved prophetic. When the pay checks were handed out Saturday night, Flash’s salary had been increased from twenty-five to thirty dollars. After the first thrill of surprise, the raise gave him no lasting pleasure. He knew he hadn’t actually earned the money.
Then, too, in some manner word circled the office by means of the “grapevine” system that he had been singled out for Cordell Burman’s favor. Fred Orris treated him with increasing austerity, seldom missing an opportunity to make cutting remarks. The other photographers, save Wells, remained aloof, no doubt feeling that they had been slighted. Flash could not really blame them.
He did his work efficiently, giving Orris and Riley no chance to criticize. The freighter pictures earned him a measure of respect, but in the days following he was given only routine assignments.