Whitlatch, the photographer, carried quite a lot of paraphernalia with him when going off on his periodical excursions, taking pictures of Nature as found in the vicinity of Chester; and meant to have an abundance of room in which to keep his camera and other traps safe from the heavy rainfalls that frequently deluged that section of country.
"Fortunately we can hire that splendid big khaki-colored waterproof tent belonging to Whitlatch the photographer," Jack said as the others were leaving, "and all other necessities we'll pick up at our various homes. Goodnight, fellows, and mum is the word, remember."
I made a place in the tent for it, and Mr. Whitlatch has an asbestos collar to use so that the pipe can't set fire to the canvas, no matter how red-hot it gets. Why, it would be well worth enduring a rainy spell just to see how the thing works."
Whitlatch, the town photographer, has tested it many times and promised that it would not leak a drop; only you've got to keep from touching it when wet with your fingers, because that's a bad thing to do, and may start a drip." Both boys found themselves bending over more than at any previous time during the return journey.
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