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<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park, by
Victor Appleton
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park
The Rival Photo Theatres of the Boardwalk
Author: Victor Appleton
Release Date: August 3, 2011 [EBook #36964]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOTION PICTURE CHUMS ***
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
</pre>
<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
<a name='i001' id='i001'></a>
<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="PIECES OF THE BROKEN SKYLIGHT IN THE ROOF OF THE PLAYHOUSE CLATTERED DOWN." title=""/><br />
<span class='caption'>PIECES OF THE BROKEN SKYLIGHT IN THE ROOF<br/>OF THE PLAYHOUSE CLATTERED DOWN.</span>
</div>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<div class='center'>
<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>The</span></p>
<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>Motion Picture Chums</span></p>
<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>at Seaside Park</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>The Rival Photo Theatres of the Boardwalk</p>
<p> </p>
<p>BY</p>
<p><span style='font-size:1.2em;'>VICTOR APPLETON</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>AUTHOR OF “THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE,”</span></p>
<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>“THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES,”</span></p>
<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>“TOM SWIFT SERIES,” ETC.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>ILLUSTRATED</p>
<p> </p>
<p>NEW YORK</p>
<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p>
<p>PUBLISHERS</p>
</div>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<div style='font-size:smaller'>
<div class='center'>
<p>BOOKS BY VICTOR APPLETON</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS SERIES</span></p>
<p><em>12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</em></p>
<p><em>Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.</em></p>
</div>
<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS’ FIRST VENTURE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK</p>
</td></tr></table>
<div class='center'>
<p>(<em>Other volumes in preparation</em>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES</span></p>
<p><em>12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</em></p>
<p><em>Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.</em></p>
</div>
<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE WEST</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE COAST</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE JUNGLE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN EARTHQUAKE LAND</p>
</td></tr></table>
<div class='center'>
<p>(<em>Other volumes in preparation</em>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>THE TOM SWIFT SERIES</span></p>
<p><em>12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</em></p>
<p><em>Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.</em></p>
</div>
<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT</p>
<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON</p>
</td></tr></table>
<div class='center'>
<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p>
<p>PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1913, BY</span></p>
<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park</em></p>
</div>
</div>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<div class='center'>
<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p>
</div>
<table class='c' summary='table of contents'>
<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Looking for Business</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Motor Boat</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>9</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Short of Funds</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>18</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>An Old Friend</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>28</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Bird House</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>38</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Friend in Need</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>48</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Business Boys</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>57</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Kidnapped</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>66</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Pep in Clover</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>75</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Press Agent</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>87</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Crossed Wires</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>96</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Business Rivals</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>104</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>All Ready!</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>112</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“The Great Unknown”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>119</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Speaking Picture</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>126</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Grand Success</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>133</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Boastful Peter</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>141</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Great Film</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>149</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Getting Along</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>157</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Rich Find</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>165</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Tin Box</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>174</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Big Reward</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>185</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Broken Sign</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>193</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Great Storm</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>201</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Conclusion</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>209</a></td></tr>
</table>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<h1>THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK</h1>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—LOOKING FOR BUSINESS</h2>
<p>
“Boys, this is just the spot we are looking
for!”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, I am sure a good photo playhouse on
this boardwalk would pay.”
</p>
<p>
It was Frank Durham who made the first declaration
and his chum and young partner, Randy
Powell, who echoed it. Both looked like lads in
business earnestly looking for something they
wanted, and determined to find it. Then the
third member of the little group glanced where
his companions were gazing. He was Pepperill
Smith, and he burst forth in his enthusiastic
way:
</p>
<p>
“The very thing!”
</p>
<p>
The three chums had arrived at Seaside Park
only that morning. Their home was at Fairlands,
one hundred and fifty miles west.
Everything was new to them and there was certainly
enough variety, excitement and commotion to satisfy
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span>
any lively lad. They had, however,
come for something else than pleasure.
They had a distinct purpose in view, and Frank’s
remarks brought it up.
</p>
<p>
Seaside Park was a very popular ocean resort.
It was a trim little town with a normal population
of less than three thousand souls. In the
summer season, however, it provided for over ten
times that number. A substantial boardwalk
fronted the beach where people bathed, lined with
stores, booths, and curio and souvenir tents.
There were several restaurants for the convenience
of those who had run down from the big
cities to take a day’s enjoyment and did not care
to stay at the pretentious hotels.
</p>
<p>
The three friends had made for this part of
the resort as soon as they had arrived. As they
had strolled down the boardwalk Frank had studiously
observed the general layout and the points
where the pleasure-seekers most congregated.
Randy was quite as much interested in peering in
at the windows of the few buildings bearing “To
Rent” signs. Pep made a deliberate stop wherever
a show place attracted his attention. Now
all three had halted in front of an unoccupied
building and were looking it over critically.
</p>
<p>
“I say, fellows,” observed Frank, “this is
worth looking into.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span>
</p>
<p>
“It’s certainly a fine location,” added Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Just made for us,” piped the exuberant Pep.
</p>
<p>
The building was frame and one story in
height. It was of ample breadth, and as the brisk
and busy Pep squinted down its side he declared
it was over one hundred feet long. Randy went
up to the chalked-over windows, while Frank
took out a card and copied the name and address
of the owner given on the rent sign.
</p>
<p>
“Hi, this way!” suddenly hailed the active
Pep. “The door isn’t locked.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s great,” spoke Randy. “I want to
see what the inside looks like.”
</p>
<p>
“Hello, there!” called out a man’s voice as
they stepped over the threshold of the broad
double doorway.
</p>
<p>
“Hello yourself, mister,” retorted Pep cheerily,
“we were sort of interested in the place and
wanted to look it over.”
</p>
<p>
Frank stepped forward. The man who had
challenged them was in his shirt sleeves, working
at a plank over two wooden horses mending
some wire screens.
</p>
<p>
“We are looking over the beach with the idea
of finding a good location for a show,” Frank
explained.
</p>
<p>
“What kind of a show?” inquired the man,
studying the trio sharply.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span>
</p>
<p>
“Motion picture.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, I can
tell you that,” declared the man, showing more
interest and putting aside the screen he was
mending. “Pretty young, though, for business
on your own hook; aren’t you?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, we’re regular business men, we are,”
vaunted Pep. “This is Frank Durham, and this
is Randolph Powell. The three of us ran a
photo playhouse in Fairlands for six months, so
we know the business.”
</p>
<p>
“Is that so?” observed the man musingly.
“Well, I’m the owner of the building here and
as you see, want to find a good tenant for the
season. I’m mending up the screens to those
ventilating windows. I’m going to redecorate it
inside and out, and the place is right in the center
of the busiest part of the beach.”
</p>
<p>
“What was it used for before?” inquired
Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Bowling alley, once. Then a man tried an
ice cream parlor, but there was too much competition.
Last season a man put in a penny arcade,
but that caught only the cheap trade and not
much of that.”
</p>
<p>
Frank walked to the end of the long room
and looked over the lighting equipment, the floor
and the ceiling. Then he nodded to Randy and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span>
Pep, who joined him at a window, as if looking
casually over the surroundings of the vacant
place.
</p>
<p>
“See here, fellows,” Frank said, “it looks as
though we had stumbled upon a fine opportunity.”
</p>
<p>
“Splendid!” voiced Randy.
</p>
<p>
“It strikes me just right,” approved Pep.
“What a dandy place we can make of it, with
all this space! Why, we’ll put three rows of
seats, the middle one double. There’s all kinds
of space on the walls for posters. I’ll have to
get an assistant usher and——”
</p>
<p>
“Hold on, Pep!” laughed Frank. “Aren’t
you going pretty fast? The rent may be ’way out
of our reach. You know we are not exactly
millionaires, and our limited capital may not come
anywhere near covering things.”
</p>
<p>
“Find out what the rent is; won’t you,
Frank?” pressed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“There’s no harm in that,” replied Frank.
</p>
<p>
He went up to the owner of the place while
Randy and Pep strolled outside. They walked
around the building twice, studying it in every
particular. Randy looked eager and Pep excited
as Frank came out on the sidewalk. They could
tell from the pleased look on his face that he
was the bearer of good news.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span>
</p>
<p>
“What is it, Frank?” queried Randy, anxiously.
</p>
<p>
“The rent isn’t half what I expected it to be.”
</p>
<p>
“Good!” cried Pep.
</p>
<p>
“But it’s high enough to consider in a careful
way. Then again the owner of the building insists
that nothing but a strictly first-class show will
draw patronage at Seaside Park. The people who
come here are generally of a superior type and the
transients come from large places where they
have seen the best going in the way of photo
plays. It’s going to cost a lot of money to start
a playhouse here, and we can’t decide in a moment.”
</p>
<p>
“How many other motion picture shows are
there in Seaside Park, Frank?” inquired Pep.
</p>
<p>
“None.”
</p>
<p>
Both Randy and Pep were surprised at this
statement and told Frank so.
</p>
<p>
“The movies tried it out in connection with a
restaurant last season, but made a fizzle of it,
the man in there tells me,” reported Frank. “He
says there may be a show put in later in the season—you
see we are pretty early on the scene
and the summer rush has not come yet. In fact,
he hinted that some New York fellows were
down here last week looking over the prospects
in our line. I’ve told him just how we are situated,
and I think he has taken quite a liking to us
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span>
and would like to encourage us if it didn’t cost
him anything. He says he will give us until
Monday to figure up and decide what we want
to do. There’s one thing, though—we will have
to put up the rent for the place for the whole
season.”
</p>
<p>
“What—in advance?” exclaimed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Yes—four months. It seems that one or two
former tenants left their landlord in the lurch
and he won’t take any more risks. Cash or the
guarantee of some responsible person is the way
this man, Mr. Morton, puts in.”
</p>
<p>
“Humph!” commented Pep. “Why doesn’t
he make us buy the place and be done with it?”
</p>
<p>
“Well, if we start in we’re going to stick;
aren’t we?” propounded Randy. “So it’s simply
a question of raising enough money.”
</p>
<p>
“Mr. Morton says that along Beach Row
there is nothing in the way of first-class amusements,”
Frank went on. “There’s a merry-go-round
and a summer garden with a band and
some few cheap side shows.”
</p>
<p>
“Then we would have the field all to ourselves,”
submitted Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Unless a business rival came along, which
he won’t, unless we are making money, so the
more the merrier,” declared Frank, briskly.
“We’ll talk the whole business over this evening,
fellows. In the meantime we’ll take in the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span>
many sights and post ourselves on the prospects.”
</p>
<p>
“I do hope we’ll be able to get that place,”
said Pep, longingly. “What a fine view we have!
I’d never get tired of being in sight of the sea
and all this gay excitement around us.”
</p>
<p>
The chums left the boardwalk and went across
the sands, watching the merry crowds playing on
the beach and running out into the water. Big
and little, old and young, seemed to be full of
fun and excitement. Early in the season as it
was, there were a number of bathers.
</p>
<p>
“That would make a fine motion picture; eh?”
suggested Randy, his mind always on business.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and so would that!” shouted Pep.
“Jumping crickets! Fellows—look!”
</p>
<p>
There had sounded a sharp explosion. At a
certain spot a great cascade of water like the
spouting of a whale went up into the air. A hiss
of steam focussed in a whirling, swaying mass at
one point. There was the echo of yells and
screams.
</p>
<p>
“What’s happened, I wonder——” began
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“I saw it!” interrupted an excited bather,
who had ran out of the water. “A motor boat
has blown up!”
</p>
<p>
“Then those on board must be in danger of
burning or drowning, boys,” shouted Frank.
“To the rescue!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—THE MOTOR BOAT</h2>
<p>
Frank Durham was just as practical as he
was heroic. While the frightened people in the
water were rushing up the beach in a panic, and
strollers along the sands stared helplessly toward
the scene of the accident, Frank’s quick eye took
in the situation—and in a flash he acted.
</p>
<p>
There was a reason why he was so ready-witted.
In the first place he—and also Randy
and Pep—had for an entire season been in actual
service at the outing resort near their home
town of Fairlands. It had been an experience
that fitted them for just such a crisis as the
present one. Boating on the lake had been the
principal diversion of the guests. There had
been more than one tip-over in which Frank and
his chums had come to the rescue.
</p>
<p>
In fact, while the boys had regular duties,
such as acting as caddies for golfers, as guides
and chauffeurs, the proprietor of the resort expected
them to keep an eye out at all times for
mishaps to his guests. This had trained the
chums in a line where common sense, speedy action,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span>
and knowing how to do just the right thing
at just the right time, would be useful in safe-guarding
property and human life.
</p>
<p>
Frank did not have to tell his companions
what to do. They knew their duty and how far
they could be useful, as well as their leader.
The motor boat was about a quarter of a mile
out and was on fire. They could see the flames
belching out at the stern. There seemed to be
three or four persons aboard. As far as they
could make it out at the distance they were, one
of the passengers had sprung overboard and was
floating around on a box or plank. The others
were crowded together at the bow, trying to keep
away from the flames.
</p>
<p>
Randy had dashed down the beach to where
there was a light rowboat overturned on the
sand. Pep was making for a long pier running
out quite a distance, pulling off his coat as he
went. Frank had his eyes fixed upon a small
electric launch lying near the pier. He did not
know nor notice what course his chums had
taken. He realized that if help came to the people
in peril on the motor boat it must come
speedily to be of any avail.
</p>
<p>
It took Frank less than three minutes to reach
the spot where a light cable held the launch
against the pier. A rather fine-looking old man
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span>
stood nearby, glancing through his gold-rimmed
eyeglasses toward the beach, as if impatient of
something.
</p>
<p>
“Mister,” shot out Frank, breathlessly, “is
this your craft?”
</p>
<p>
“It is,” replied the gentleman. “I am waiting
for my man to come and run me down to
Rock Point.”
</p>
<p>
“Did you see that?” inquired Frank, rapidly,
pointing to the burning motor boat.
</p>
<p>
“Why, I declare—I hadn’t!” exclaimed the
man, taking a survey of the point in the distance
indicated by Frank. “What can have happened?”
</p>
<p>
“An explosion, sir,” explained Frank. “You
see, they must have help.”
</p>
<p>
“Where is that laggard man of mine?” cried
the owner of the launch, growing excited. “If
he would come we might do something.”
</p>
<p>
“Let me take your launch,” pressed Frank,
eagerly.
</p>
<p>
“Do you know how to run it?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, yes, sir.”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t. Do your best, lad. You must
hurry. The boat is burning fiercely.”
</p>
<p>
It only needed the word of assent to start
Frank on his mission of rescue. There had
never been a better engineer on the lake near
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span>
Fairlands than our hero. He was so perfectly
at home with a launch that the owner of the
one he had immediately sprung into could not
repress a “Bravo!” as Frank seemed to slip the
painter, spring to the wheel and send the craft
plowing the water like a fish, all with one and
the same deft movement.
</p>
<p>
Frank estimated time and distance and set the
launch on a swift, diagonal course. He made out
a rowboat headed in the same direction as himself,
and Randy was in it. Frank saw a flying
form leave the end of the long pier in a bold
dive. It was Pep. Frank could not deviate or
linger, for the nearer he got to the blazing craft
the more vital seemed the peril of those now
nearly crowded overboard by the heat and
smoke. Besides that, he knew perfectly well
that the crack swimmer of Fairlands, his friend
Pep, could take care of himself in the water.
</p>
<p>
It was because the three chums were always
together and always on the alert that nothing
missed them. Some pretty creditable things had
been done by them and that training came to
their help in the present crisis.
</p>
<p>
In the first volume of the present series, entitled
“The Motion Picture Chums’ First Venture;
Or, Opening a Photo Playhouse in Fairlands,”
their adventures and experiences have
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span>
been given in a way that showed the courage and
enterprise that infused them. Frank Durham
was the elder of the trio, and it was he who
had started a partnership that soon outgrew odd
chores about Fairlands and making themselves
handy around the lake during the outing season.
</p>
<p>
Early in the Fall preceding, after a great deal
of thinking, planning and actual hard work,
Frank, Randy and Pep had become proprietors
of a motion picture show at Fairlands. It had
been no play-day spurt, but a practical business
effort. They had worked hard for nearly a year,
had saved up quite a sum, and learning of the
auction sale of a photo playhouse outfit in the
city, they had bid it in and started the “Wonderland”
in the busy little town where they lived.
</p>
<p>
In this they had been greatly helped by a good-hearted,
impulsive fellow named Ben Jolly. The
latter was in love with the novel enterprise, liked
the boys, and played the piano. Another of his
kind who was a professional ventriloquist, had
plied his art for the benefit of the motion picture
show, delaying the auction sale with mock bids
until Frank arrived in time to buy the city outfit.
</p>
<p>
They had enemies, too, and the son of a Fairlands
magnate named Greg Grayson had caused
them a good deal of trouble and had tried to
break up their show. Perseverance, hard work
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span>
and brains, however, carried the motion picture
chums through. They exhibited none but
high-grade films, they ran an orderly place, and
with Frank at the projector, Randy in the ticket
booth, Pep as the genial usher and Ben Jolly as
pianist, they had crowded houses and wound up
at the end of the season out of debt and with a
small cash capital all their own.
</p>
<p>
For all the busy Winter, warm weather hurt
the photo playhouse at Fairlands. It had been a
debated question with the chums for some weeks
as to shutting down for the summer months.
They finally decided to “close for repairs” for
a spell and look around for a new location until
fall. Seaside Park was suggested as an ideal
place for a first-class motion picture show, and
so far prospects looked very encouraging, indeed.
</p>
<p>
Right in the midst of their business deliberations
the incident just related had now come up.
All three of the boys had answered the call of
humanity without an instant’s hesitation.
</p>
<p>
Frank forgot everything except the business in
hand as he set eyes, mind and nerve upon reaching
the burning motor boat in time to be of
some practical service. He was near enough now
to pretty well grasp the situation. The launch
had been going at a high rate of speed, but the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span>
expert young engineer set the lever another
notch forward, and sent the craft slipping
through the water like a dolphin.
</p>
<p>
The man in charge of the burning boat, Frank
saw, had a pan with a handle. He was dipping
this into the water and throwing its contents
against the blazing after-part of the boat. Some
gasoline or other inflammable substance, however,
seemed to burn all the more fiercely for this
deluge, and the man had to shrink farther and
farther away as the flames encroached upon him.
</p>
<p>
A portly lady was shrieking constantly and
waving her arms in a state of terror. It was
all that a younger woman, the other passenger,
could do to hold her in her seat and restrain her
from jumping overboard.
</p>
<p>
Frank had just a passing glance for the other
actor in the scene. This was the fellow he had
seen leap overboard when the boat blew up. He
was somewhat older than Frank, and having cast
adrift a box, the only loose article aboard that
would serve to act as a float, he had drifted
safely out of reach of the flames.
</p>
<p>
“He’s a coward, besides being a cad,” involuntarily
flashed through Frank’s mind. Then he
made the launch swerve, and shouted to the occupants
of the motor boat:
</p>
<p>
“All ready!”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span>
</p>
<p>
Frank, with his experience of the past, calculated
so nicely that the launch came alongside
the burning motor boat at precisely the right
angle to allow the man in charge of the latter
craft to grapple with a boat-hook.
</p>
<p>
“Quick, Mrs. Carrington,” he spoke to the
older lady, “get aboard the launch as fast as
you can.”
</p>
<p>
The woman’s girl companion helped her get
to her feet, but she pitched about so that but
for a clever movement on the part of Frank
she would have gone into the water.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” she screamed, but with
the aid of the younger woman Frank managed
to get her into the launch, where she dropped in
a heap and went into hysterics. Her companion
got aboard more quietly.
</p>
<p>
“You are just in time,” gasped the man in
charge of the motor boat. “Don’t risk the
flames, but pull away.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, there is nothing to be done in the way
of putting out the fire,” said Frank.
</p>
<p>
The man he spoke to was both worried and
in pain. His face and hands were blistered from
his efforts to shield his passengers from the fire.
Just then a howl rang out. It proceeded from
the fellow thirty feet away, bobbing up and
down on the empty box. This brought the older
woman to her senses.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span>
</p>
<p>
“It is Peter!” she screamed. “Oh, save
Peter!”
</p>
<p>
The paltry Peter began bellowing with deadly
fear as the launch was headed away from him.
Frank could not feel very charitable toward a
fellow who, in the midst of peril, had left
friends, probably relatives, to their fate. However,
he started to change the course of the
launch, when Pep, swinging one arm over the
other in masterly progress like the fine swimmer
he always had been, crossed the bow of the
craft.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll take care of him,” shouted Pep to
Frank, “and here’s Randy in the skiff.”
</p>
<p>
Frank saw Randy making for the spot, and as
Pep grasped the side of the floating box the skiff
came alongside.
</p>
<p>
“Hold on! Stop that other boat,” blubbered
the young fellow. “I want to go ashore in a
safe rig; I want to get to my aunt.”
</p>
<p>
“What did you leave her for?” demanded
Pep, firing up.
</p>
<p>
“Huh! Think I want to get drowned?”
whimpered the other.
</p>
<p>
Pep helped the scared youth into the skiff,
drew himself over its edge, and directed just one
remark to the rescued lad.
</p>
<p>
“Say!” he observed, indignantly. “I’d just
like to kick you.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—SHORT OF FUNDS</h2>
<p>
Frank drove the motor launch shoreward
with accuracy and speed. The stout lady had
shrieked and acted as if half mad until she had
been assured that Peter was safe. She had to
see with her own eyes that Peter had been pulled
into the rowboat with Randy and Pep. Then
she collapsed again.
</p>
<p>
While she lay limp and exhausted, the young
lady with her mopped her head with a handkerchief
and fanned her. The engineer of the
motor boat had got near to Frank. He looked
pale and distressed. He kept his eye fixed on the
sinking motor boat for a time.
</p>
<p>
“That’s the last of her,” he remarked, with a
sigh.
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” responded Frank, “we couldn’t do
anything toward saving her.”
</p>
<p>
“I should think not. I tell you, if you hadn’t
known your business I don’t know what would
have happened to us. Mrs. Carrington was entirely
unmanageable, her companion can’t swim,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span>
and of course I wouldn’t leave them to perish.”
</p>
<p>
“The stout lady is Mrs. Carrington, I suppose?”
asked Frank.
</p>
<p>
“That’s right.”
</p>
<p>
“And Peter, I suppose, is the brave young man
who jumped overboard with the float?”
</p>
<p>
“He is her nephew, and a precious kind of a
relative he is!” said the motor boat man, and his
face expressed anger and disgust. “He would
smoke those nasty cigarettes of his and throw
the stubs where he liked. Honestly, I believe it
was one of those that started the fire.”
</p>
<p>
“He hasn’t shown himself to be very valiant
or courageous,” commented Frank.
</p>
<p>
There was a great crowd at the beach near the
shore end of the pier where the launch landed.
The skiff holding Randy, Pep and their dripping
and shivering companion glided to the same spot
as an officer saw that the launch was secured.
He stared down in an undecided way at the helpless
Mrs. Carrington. Peter, safe and sound
now, leaped aboard the launch with the assurance
of an admiral.
</p>
<p>
“Hey, officer,” he hailed the man, “get a conveyance
for the party as quick as you can.”
</p>
<p>
“Suppose you do it yourself?” growled the
motor boat man, looking as if he would like to
give Peter a good thrashing.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>
</p>
<p>
“Me? In this rig? Oh, dear, no!” retorted
the shocked Peter. “I’ve got five suits of clothes
home. Really, I ought to send for one. Don’t
know what the people at Catalpa Terrace will say
to see me coming home looking like a drowned
rat, don’t you know,” and Peter grinned in a
silly, self-important way.
</p>
<p>
“He makes me sick!” blurted out the motor
boat man.
</p>
<p>
The young lady who was supporting Mrs. Carrington
leaned toward Frank. Her face expressed
the respect and admiration she felt for
their rescuer.
</p>
<p>
“We can never thank you enough for your
prompt service,” she said, in a voice that trembled
a trifle from excitement.
</p>
<p>
“I am glad I was within call,” replied Frank,
modestly.
</p>
<p>
“Won’t you kindly give me your name?” inquired
the young lady. “I am Miss Porter, and
I am companion to Mrs. Carrington. I know her
ways so well, that I am sure the first thing she
will want to know when she becomes herself
again is the name of her brave rescuer.”
</p>
<p>
“My name is Frank Durham,” replied our
hero. “My chums in the little boat are Randolph
Powell and Pepperill Smith.”
</p>
<p>
“So you live here at Seaside Park? Where
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span>
can Mrs. Carrington send you word, for I am
positive she will wish to see you?”
</p>
<p>
“We may stay here until to-morrow—I cannot
tell,” explained Frank. “If we do, I think
we will be at the Beach Hotel.”
</p>
<p>
The young lady had a small writing tablet with
a tiny pencil attached, secured by a ribbon at her
waist. She made some notations. Then she extended
her hand and grasped Frank’s with the
fervency of a grateful and appreciative person.
Then an auto cab drew up at the end of the pier,
the officer summoned help, and Mrs. Carrington
was lifted from the launch. Frank assisted Miss
Porter, and Peter, apparently fancying himself
an object of admiration to all the focussed eyes
of the crowd, disappeared into the automobile.
</p>
<p>
“Hey!” yelled Pep after him, doubling his
fists. “Thank you!”
</p>
<p>
The motor boat man grasped Frank’s hand
with honest thankfulness in his eyes.
</p>
<p>
“I shan’t forget you very soon,” he said with
genuine feeling.
</p>
<p>
“Did the boat belong to you?” asked Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, I own two motor boats here,” explained
the man, “and run them for just such parties as
you see.”
</p>
<p>
“The explosion will cause you some money
loss.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span>
</p>
<p>
“I hardly think so,” answered the man.
“Mrs. Carrington is a rich woman, they say, and
she is quite liberal, too. I think she will do the
right thing and not leave all the loss on a poor
man like myself.”
</p>
<p>
“Get the skiff back where you found it,
Randy,” directed Frank. “I will be with you
soon,” and he started the launch back for the
spot where he had been allowed to use it by its
owner.
</p>
<p>
A chorus of cheers followed him. Glancing
across the pier, Frank noted the owner of the
motor boat surrounded by a crowd and being
interviewed by two young fellows who looked
like newspaper reporters. One of them parted
the throng suddenly and ran along the pier, focussing
a camera upon the launch. He took a
snap shot and waved his hand with an admiring
gesture at its operator.
</p>
<p>
“Young man, I don’t know when I have been
so pleased and proud,” observed the owner of
the launch as Frank drove up to the pier where
he stood. “I’m glad I had my boat at hand and
as bright and smart a fellow as you to run it
just in the nick of time.”
</p>
<p>
Frank felt pleased over his efforts to be helpful
to others. He was too boyish and ingenuous
not to suffer some embarrassment as he
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span>
passed little groups staring after him. Such remarks
as “That’s him!” “There he goes!”
“Plucky fellow!” and the like greeted his hearing
and made him blush consciously.
</p>
<p>
He found his friends down the beach, Randy
laughing at Pep and joking with him, the latter
seated on the edge of the boardwalk emptying
the water out of his shoes and grumbling at a
great rate.
</p>
<p>
“What’s the trouble, Pep?” hailed Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Trouble! Say, whenever I think of my
chance to duck that cheap cad we took aboard
the skiff I want to lam myself. ‘Jumped overboard
to hurry for help,’ he claimed. Then
found ‘that he had forgotten he couldn’t swim.’
Bah!” and the irate Pep slammed his shoe down
on a board as if it was the head of the offensive
and offending Peter Carrington.
</p>
<p>
“We’ll go up town and get you dried out,
Pep,” remarked Frank. “I say, fellows, I’m inclined
to believe that we’re going to find an
opportunity of some kind here at Seaside Park.
The little hotel we inquired at seems to be the
cheapest in the place, and we had better make
arrangements there for a sort of headquarters,
even if we don’t stay here more than a day or
two.”
</p>
<p>
“That suits,” nodded Randy. “The man offered a double
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span>
room on the top floor for a dollar,
and we can pick up our meals outside.”
</p>
<p>
The three chums concluded the arrangement at
the Beach Hotel. Fortunately each had brought
an extra suit of clothes on his journey, and Pep
was placed in comfortable trim once more. Then
they sallied forth again to make a tour of the
parts of the little town they had not previously
visited.
</p>
<p>
“Just look at the crowds right within a stone’s
throw of the place we are thinking of renting,”
said Pep, as quite naturally they wandered back
to the empty store so suited to their purposes and
so desired by each.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and it keeps up from almost daybreak
clear up to midnight,” declared Randy. “Why,
Frank, we could run three shifts four hours each.
Just think of it—twelve shows a day. Say, it
would be a gold mine!”
</p>
<p>
“I agree with you that it looks very promising,”
decided Frank. “We must do some close
figuring, fellows.”
</p>
<p>
“Let’s go inside and look the building over
again,” suggested Pep, and this they did.
</p>
<p>
“Why, hello!” instantly exclaimed the owner.
“Back again?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, Mr. Morton,” replied Frank, pleasantly.
</p>
<p>
“Shake!” cried the old fellow, dropping a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>
hammer he held and in turn grasping a hand of
each of his juvenile visitors. “You’re some
pluck, the three of you. That was the neatest
round-up I ever saw. What you been before?
Life saving service?”
</p>
<p>
“Why, hardly——” began Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Well, you got those people off that burning
motor boat slicker than I ever saw it done before.
Look here, lads, business is business, and I
have to hustle too hard for the dollars to take
any risks, but I like the way you do things, and
if I can help you figure out how you may take
a lease on the premises here and make something
out of the old barracks, I’m going to favor you.”
</p>
<p>
“We shall decide this evening, Mr. Morton,”
said Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Well, you’ve got an option on the place till
you are ready to report, no matter who comes
along.”
</p>
<p>
“Thank you,” bowed Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I do so hope we can make it!” exclaimed
the impetuous Pep.
</p>
<p>
They were hungry enough to enjoy a hearty
meal at a restaurant. Then they found themselves
tired enough for a resting spell. Their
room at the hotel was a lofty one, but it commanded
the whole beach and afforded an unobstructed
view of the sea for miles. The chums
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span>
arranged their chairs so as to catch the cool breeze
coming off the water, forming a half-circle about
an open window.
</p>
<p>
Frank had been pretty quiet since they had last
seen the vacant store, leaving Randy and Pep to
do the chattering. They knew their business
chum had been doing some close calculating and
they eagerly awaited his first word.
</p>
<p>
“Tell you, fellows,” finally spoke their leader
in an offhand but serious way, “I’ve turned and
twisted about all the many corners to this big
proposition before us, and it’s no trivial responsibility
for amateurs like us.”
</p>
<p>
“We made good at Fairlands; didn’t we?”
challenged Pep.
</p>
<p>
“That is true,” admitted Frank, “but remember
our investment there wasn’t heavy; we didn’t
have to go into debt, expenses were light, we
were right among friends who wanted to encourage
us, and we had free board at home.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s so,” murmured Randy, with a long-drawn
sigh.
</p>
<p>
“If we start in here at Seaside Park,”
went on Frank, “we have got to fix up right up
to date or we’ll find ourselves nowhere in a very
little while. There’s electric fans, expensive advertising,
a big license fee, more help and the
films—that’s the feature that worries me. As
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span>
we learned this morning, we have got to have
the latest and best in that direction.”
</p>
<p>
“But twelve shows a day, Frank,” urged Pep.
“Think of it—twelve!”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, I know,” responded Frank. “It looks
very easy until some break comes along. I
wouldn’t like to pile up a lot of expenses, and
then have to flunk and lose not only the little
capital we have but the outfit we’ve worked so
hard to get. Truth is, fellows, any way I figure
it out, we’re short of the ready funds to carry
this thing through.”
</p>
<p>
Randy and Pep looked pretty blank at this. It
was a decidedly wet blanket on all their high
hopes.
</p>
<p>
“Couldn’t we get a partner who would finance
us?” finally suggested Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Why, say, give me that chance!” spoke an
eager voice that brought the three chums to their
feet.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—AN OLD FRIEND</h2>
<p>
It had grown nearly dusk while the three
chums sat at the window of their room animatedly
discussing their prospects. None of
them had thought of lighting the gas and the
night shadows that had crept into the room prevented
them from recognizing the intruder whom
they now faced.
</p>
<p>
They had left the door of the room leading
into the corridor wide open to allow a free current
of air. The doorway framed a dim figure
who now advanced into the room as Frank challenged
sharply:
</p>
<p>
“Who’s that?”
</p>
<p>
“Why, it’s me—Peter,” came the cool reply.
“Don’t you remember?”
</p>
<p>
Peter—Peter Carrington—stalked closer to the
window with the superb effrontery that was a
natural part of his make-up. He ducked his head
and grinned at the chums in the most familiar
manner in the world. There was a spare chair
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span>
near by. Peter moved it near to the others and
sat down as if he owned it.
</p>
<p>
“Feels good to rest,” he enlightened his grim
and astonished hosts. “Had a message for you,
and the hotel clerk directed me to your room.
Say, you must fancy climbing four flights of
stairs!”
</p>
<p>
“You seem to have made it,” observed Randy,
in a rather hostile tone, while Pep seemed bristling
all over.
</p>
<p>
“Glad I did,” piped Peter, cheerfully.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for worlds. Just in
time to hear you fellows going over your dandy
scheme, and say—it’s a winner! Photo playhouse
on the beach! Why, it’ll coin money!”
</p>
<p>
Nobody said anything. Frank was minded to
treat the intruder civilly and resumed his chair.
Suddenly Pep flared out:
</p>
<p>
“Have you been waiting out in the hall there,
listening to our private conversation?”
</p>
<p>
“Guess I have; glad I did,” chuckled the
thick-skinned Peter. “I heard you say you were
short of funds and something about a partner.
What’s the matter with me? I suppose you
know my aunt is rich and we’re some folks here.
We live up on the Terrace—most fashionable
part of the town. Why, if I had an interest in
your show I could fill your place with complimentaries
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span>
to the real people of Seaside Park.
They’d advertise you, my friends would, till
there’d be nothing but standing room left.”
</p>
<p>
“Think so?” observed Randy, drily.
</p>
<p>
“Know it. I’m my aunt’s heir, you know, and
she’s got scads of money. She’s been drawing
the tight rein on me lately. I smashed an automobile
last week and it cost her over four hundred
dollars, and she’s holding me pretty close on
the money question. But in business, she’d
stake me for anything I wanted. Says she wants
to see me get into something.”
</p>
<p>
“You got into the water when the motor boat
blew up, all right,” remarked Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Hey?” spoke Peter, struggling over the suggestion
presented. “Oh, you mean a joke? Ha!
ha! yes, indeed. Business, though, now,” and
Peter tried to look shrewd and important.
</p>
<p>
“We have not yet decided what we are going
to do,” said Frank. “As you have overheard,
we need a little more capital than what we actually
have. I will remember your kind offer, and
if we cannot figure it out as we hope I may speak
to you on the subject later.”
</p>
<p>
“I wish you would come right up to the house
now and tell my Aunt Susie all about it,” pressed
Peter, urgently.
</p>
<p>
“I couldn’t think of it,” answered Frank.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span>
“No, you leave matters just as I suggest and
we will see what may come of it.”
</p>
<p>
“Say, Frank,” whispered Pep, on fire with
excitement, “you don’t mean to think of encouraging
this noodle; do you?”
</p>
<p>
“I want to get rid of him,” answered Frank,
and all hands were relieved to see the persistent
Peter rise from his seat.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, say,” he suddenly exclaimed—“I came
for something, that’s so. My aunt wants to see
you, all three of you. Miss Porter gave her your
names and addresses and she wouldn’t rest until
I had come down here. She wants you all to
come to dinner to-morrow evening and she won’t
take no for an answer.”
</p>
<p>
“Why, we may not be here then,” said Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, you must come,” declared Peter, “now
I have a chance to go in with you. I couldn’t
think of your not seeing her. Look here,” and
Peter winked and tried to look sly—“Aunt Susie
is no tightwad. She is the most generous
woman in the world. She’s minded to give you
fellows a fine meal and treat you like princes.
She considers that you saved her life and she
can’t do too much for you. Say, on the quiet,
I’ll bet she makes you a present of fifty dollars
apiece.”
</p>
<p>
“What for?” demanded Frank.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span>
</p>
<p>
“For getting to that burning boat and saving
all hands, of course. Why, I wouldn’t take the
risk you did of being blown up for a thousand
dollars.”
</p>
<p>
“No, I don’t think you would,” announced
Pep, bluntly.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll tell you,” went on their guest—“if
you’ll give me a tip on the side I’ll work up
Aunt Susie to a hundred dollars apiece. There,
I know I can do it.”
</p>
<p>
Frank bit his lip and tried to keep from losing
his temper with this mean-spirited cad. Then he
said with quiet dignity:
</p>
<p>
“I think you had better go, Mr. Carrington,
and I shall expect you to tell your aunt that we
were only too glad to do a trifling service for
her. Please inform her, also, that I am quite certain
we shall be too busy to accept her kind invitation
for to-morrow evening; in fact, we may
leave Seaside Park for our home at Fairlands
early in the morning.”
</p>
<p>
Dauntless Peter! you could not squelch that
shallow nerve of his. In a trice he shouted out:
</p>
<p>
“Why! do you live at Fairlands?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” nodded Frank, wondering what was
coming next from this extraordinary youth.
</p>
<p>
“Then you know Greg Grayson?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, yes,” admitted Randy.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span>
</p>
<p>
“I should think we did!” observed Pep, with
a wry grimace.
</p>
<p>
“Why, then, we’re regular friends,” insisted
Peter, acting as if he was about to embrace all
hands. “He was my roommate at school. We
were like twin brothers.”
</p>
<p>
“Maybe that’s the reason!” muttered Pep.
</p>
<p>
“His folks are big guns in Fairlands, just as
we are here. Say, if you know Greg Grayson,
that settles it. You just ask him if I ain’t all
right—up to snuff and all that—and if I wouldn’t
make a fine partner.”
</p>
<p>
Frank managed to usher their persistent visitor
from the room, all the way down the corridor
the latter insisting that he was going to
“put the proposition up to Aunt Susie” forthwith,
and that they would hear from him on the
morrow.
</p>
<p>
“Frank,” exclaimed Pep, “it seems good to
get rid of that fellow.”
</p>
<p>
“A fine partner he’d make,” observed Randy,
with a snort.
</p>
<p>
“I am dreadfully sorry he overheard our
plans,” spoke Frank. “Of course it will soon be
generally known if we decide to locate here; but
this Peter may talk a lot of rubbish that might
hurt us or start somebody else on our idea.”
</p>
<p>
“And to think of his knowing Greg Grayson,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span>
and playing him off on us as a recommendation!”
cried Pep.
</p>
<p>
“They make a good pair,” added Randy.
“Why, I’d give up the whole business before I
would have either of them connected with our
plans in any way.”
</p>
<p>
“I wouldn’t wonder if Mr. Jolly might happen
along if we stay here a day or two longer,” remarked
Frank. “You know he was the first to
suggest a look at Seaside Park with a view to
business.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s so,” said Randy. “Did you write to
him, Frank?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes. You know when we closed up at Fairlands
he said he would take a day or two visiting
some relatives and looking over the movies
business in the city.”
</p>
<p>
“Ben Jolly told me he wasn’t going to stay
idle all summer. Nor let us do it, either,” observed
Pep. “He’ll have something fresh to tell
us when we see him.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, when we left Fairlands I sent him a
few lines telling him that we were going to look
over the field here,” said Frank. “That is why
I think he may drop in on us.”
</p>
<p>
“I wish he would,” declared Randy. “Mr.
Jolly knows so much about the business. What’s
the programme for to-morrow, Frank?”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>
</p>
<p>
“Why, I thought we would find out what it
will cost us to move our traps here from Fairlands,
the amount of the license fee for the show,
the cost of a lot of electric wiring and current we
will need if we locate at Seaside Park, how much
it will cost us to live, and a lot of such details.”
</p>
<p>
The boys had a wonderfully refreshing sleep
in that high room pervaded with cool ocean
breezes, and got up fully an hour later than they
had planned. After Peter Carrington had left
them the evening before they had strolled down
the beach about nine o’clock to get an idea of the
evening crowds. This filled them more than ever
with ardor as to their prospective business undertaking.
</p>
<p>
“I say,” Randy had observed, “don’t you see,
Frank, there aren’t enough amusements to go
around?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” Frank had assented, “the crowds seem
just in trim for some lively entertainment.”
</p>
<p>
The chums dispatched a substantial breakfast
at the restaurant. Then they started out on their
second day’s investigation of conditions and prospects
at Seaside Park.
</p>
<p>
Frank made it a point to interview several
owners of concessions along the beach. Those
with whom he talked had attractions vastly inferior
to the one the chums designed to operate, but
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span>
the boys picked up many a suggestion and useful
hint. It was shortly before noon when they sat
down to rest under a tree in that part of the
town given over to permanent residences and
summer cottages. They began talking over the
ever-present theme of their photo playhouse when
there was an interruption.
</p>
<p>
Down the street there strolled leisurely a young
man who made it a point to halt whenever he got
in front of a house. There he would linger and
begin a series of whistling exploits that made the
air vibrate with the most ravishing melody.
</p>
<p>
“Say, just listen to that!” exclaimed Pep, in
a pleased tone.
</p>
<p>
“It’s one of those trick whistles,” declared
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Then it’s an extra fine one,” said Pep.
</p>
<p>
“I think you are mistaken, boys,” suggested
Frank. “Those are real human notes—at least
almost exact human imitations of bird tones.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, then, the fellow must have a throat
like a nightingale,” asserted the enthusiastic Pep.
</p>
<p>
The active whistler deserved all the chums said
about him. His repertoire seemed exhaustless.
He confined himself to imitations of birds exclusively—and
of only such birds as were native
to the surrounding country.
</p>
<p>
He fairly filled the air with melody, and real
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span>
birds in the trees and shrubbery about the handsome
residences of the locality twittered, hopped
about and responded in an echoing chorus to his
expert call.
</p>
<p>
Little children came running out of yards to
gaze in wonder and admiration at this unusual
warbler. Even older folks watched and listened
to him. The man turned a corner out of view of
the motion picture chums, followed by quite a
procession.
</p>
<p>
He had scarcely vanished before a high wagon
such as is used to carry cooper’s barrels turned
slowly into the street. A slow old horse pulled
it along. Its driver nimbly leaped from his seat.
The moment he called out “Whoa!” to the horse
and turned his face toward the chums, Pep Smith
uttered a great shout.
</p>
<p>
“Why, fellows, see,” he cried, in mingled glee
and surprise—“it’s Ben Jolly!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—THE BIRD HOUSE</h2>
<p>
Ben Jolly it was, more sprightly, more jolly-looking
than ever, for he waved his hand with a
genial smile to the children staring down the side
street after the whistler. The other reached into
the wagon. Instantly upon recognizing their old-time
friend and helper the three chums started in
his direction.
</p>
<p>
“Hi, there!” hailed Pep, while Randy waved
his hand gaily and all hurried their gait.
</p>
<p>
“Well! well!” exclaimed Jolly, his face an
expanding smile of welcome, extending both
hands and greeting his friends in turn. “I expected
to find you here and headed for here, but
I did not expect to run across you so oddly.”
</p>
<p>
“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Jolly,” burst forth
Randy, staring in amazement at the wagon,
“what in the world have you got there?”
</p>
<p>
“Why bird houses,” replied Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Bird houses?” repeated Pep, equally bewildered. “What
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span>
are you doing with such a lot
of bird houses?”
</p>
<p>
“Selling them, of course.”
</p>
<p>
Frank himself was surprised and puzzled. The
wagon contained half a dozen tiers of little box-like
structures packed close. At one side was a
heap of poles the size of display flag staffs. These
poles were stout and heavy, painted white, and
about twelve feet in length. The houses were
about two feet high and as wide. They were
painted white, like the poles, and were exact
models of a broad, low colonial house, even to
the veranda. The roof was painted red, there
was an imitation chimney and a double open
doorway in front trimmed with green. All
around this miniature house were little apertures
representing windows.
</p>
<p>
A neater, more inviting little bird house for a
garden could not well be imagined. As Jolly took
a sample from the wagon the little children
flocked about him on tiptoe of curiosity. There
were admiring “Oh’s!” and “Ah’s!” “Ain’t
they cute!” “What cunning little houses!” and
“Oh, mister! are they for sale?” “What do
they cost?”
</p>
<p>
“If you will excuse me while I make a demonstration,”
observed Jolly, “I’ll explain what it’s
all about.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span>
</p>
<p>
“What a rare fellow he is!” remarked Randy
to his companions, as they stepped aside.
</p>
<p>
“The same busy, happy, good-natured friend
of everybody,” returned Frank, with genuine
feeling.
</p>
<p>
If there was a being in the world the motion
picture chums had reason to feel kindly toward
it was this same Ben Jolly. A free wanderer,
taking things easy, tramping flower-fringed country
roads, making his way, willing to meet any
task that came along, Ben Jolly had dropped into
their life at the critical moment when they were
discussing the prospects of their first motion picture
show at Fairlands.
</p>
<p>
Ben had been a Jack-of-all-trades and knew a
little something about pretty nearly everything.
Particularly he knew a good deal about the
movies. He gave the boys advice and suggestions
that enabled them to buy their first outfit
at a bargain and the day the show opened appeared
with an old piano which he had induced
a rich relative to buy. From that time on Ben
Jolly furnished the music for the Wonderland
photo playhouse and, as told in our first volume,
was the means of unearthing a plot against the
father of Frank Durham, whereby he had been
swindled out of a small estate.
</p>
<p>
Jolly took a sample bird house under each arm
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span>
and entered the first yard he came to, the interested
children keeping him close company. He
came out of the first house with only one bird
house, he came out of the second with none.
Along the block he visited on both sides of the
street Jolly disposed of just eleven of the attractive
little miniature domiciles, distributed poles
later to each purchaser and rejoined the boys.
</p>
<p>
“Now, then,” he said, briskly, placing a little
roll of banknotes in a well-filled wallet, “how are
you and what are the prospects?”
</p>
<p>
“Excellent,” declared Randy. “See here,
though, Mr. Jolly, will you kindly explain this
new business of yours?”
</p>
<p>
“Simply a side line,” replied Jolly, in a gay,
offhand manner.
</p>
<p>
“But where did you ever pick up that rig and
that lot of odd truck?” challenged Pep.
</p>
<p>
“I picked up better than that,” retorted Jolly,
cheerily. “I ran across the finest advance agent
in the business—and here he comes. You knew
him once, but under his stage name of Hal Pope.
He’s Mr. Hal Vincent now.”
</p>
<p>
At that moment the whistler came into view,
having circled the block. As he approached,
Frank’s face expressed pleased surprise.
</p>
<p>
“Why,” exclaimed Pep, “it’s our friend the
ventriloquist.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span>
</p>
<p>
“So it is,” echoed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Glad to meet you again,” said Hal Vincent,
and there was an all-around handshaking.
“You’re all looking fine and I hear you’re prosperous.”
</p>
<p>
“Not so much so that we could afford to hire
you for our programme at Fairlands, as we
would like to do, Mr. Vincent,” replied Frank,
with a smile.
</p>
<p>
Pep began to grin as he looked at Vincent, and
the memory of their first meeting was reviewed.
Then he chuckled and finally he broke out into
a ringing guffaw.
</p>
<p>
“Thinking of my first and only appearance at
that auction where you bought your movies outfit?”
inquired Vincent, with a smile.
</p>
<p>
“Will we ever forget it?” cried Randy. “I
tell you, Mr. Vincent, if you hadn’t made the
auctioneer believe that two innocent bystanders
were bidding against each other with your ventriloquism,
and gained time until Frank arrived,
we would never have gotten into the motion picture
business.”
</p>
<p>
“It worked finely; didn’t it?” answered Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“I ran across Hal at Tresco, about thirty miles
from here,” narrated Ben Jolly. “He was counting
the ties in the direction of New York, having
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>
left the dummies he uses in his stunts on the
stage for meals and lodging.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, I was about all that was left of the Consolidated
Popular Amusement Corporation,” put
in Vincent. “I was glad to meet an old friend
like Ben. He told me there was the shadow of
a chance that you might start in at Seaside Park
and wanted me to come along with him. Then
we ran across the outfit here,” and the speaker
nodded toward the wagon and its contents.
</p>
<p>
“That was my brilliant idea,” added Jolly.
“I call it a rare stroke of luck, the way we ran
across the outfit.”
</p>
<p>
“How?” projected Pep, vastly curious.
</p>
<p>
“Well, a carpenter in a little town we came
through had got crippled. The doctor told him
he wouldn’t get around without crutches for six
months. He was a lively, industrious old fellow
and couldn’t bear to be idle. Had a lot of waste
lumber and worked it up into dog houses. There
weren’t many dogs in the town, so his sale was
limited. Then the bird house idea came along.
The carpenter got the local paper to print a lot
about the birds, the merry birds, that sing about
our door——”
</p>
<p>
“That—sing—about—our—door!” echoed
a slow, deep bass, apparently away up in a high
tree near by, and the boys knew that their gifted
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span>
ventriloquist friend was exercising his talents.
</p>
<p>
“The carpenter,” proceeded Jolly, “hired a
lot of boys to go forth on his mission of kindness
to our feathery songsters. The campaign
went ahead until nearly everybody wanting a
bird house got one. Our friend found himself
with some two hundred of the little structures
left on his hands. He had overstocked the market,
with a big surplus left on his hands. When
we came along it was a sign in front of his place
that attracted our attention. It read: ‘These
fine bird houses and a capable horse, wagon, and
harness for sale for a mere song.’
</p>
<p>
“Anything odd always catches me, so I interviewed
the old man. It seemed that he had received
word only that day that a relative in
another part of the country had left him a farm.
He wanted to realize quick and he offered me the
bird house outfit and the rig all for fifty dollars.
I had only thirty-eight dollars, and he took that
and gave me his new address. The arrangement
was that if I was lucky in getting rid of the bird
houses I was to send him the balance. If I didn’t
he was willing to charge it up to profit and loss.
He’ll get that balance,” announced Jolly, with a
satisfied smile.
</p>
<p>
“It looks so, judging from your sales of the
last half-hour,” remarked Frank.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span>
</p>
<p>
“What do you get for the little houses, Mr.
Jolly?” inquired Randy.
</p>
<p>
“A dollar apiece. I don’t sell them, though—not
a bit of it,” exclaimed Ben Jolly, modestly.
“It’s Hal. You ought to hear his whole repertoire—orioles,
thrushes, mourning doves, nightingales,
mocking birds. He infuses the neighborhood
with the melody and I slide in with the
practical goods. And that rig—remember the
noise wagon at Fairlands, Pep Smith?”
</p>
<p>
“Do I?” cried Pep, in a gloating way—“I
should say I did!”
</p>
<p>
The “noise wagon” had been introduced in
connection with the photo playhouse at Fairlands
and had become a novel institution with
the inhabitants. A wagon enclosed with canvas,
bearing announcements of existing and coming
film features, was provided with a big bass
drum, bells, huge board clappers and some horns—all
operated by pedals under the driver’s feet.
</p>
<p>
“You see this new rig of mine would work in
on the same basis here,” proceeded Jolly. “If
not, I can get more for the outfit than I paid for
it, anyway. Now then, Durham, where can we
find you this evening?”
</p>
<p>
“Why not sooner?” suggested the impetuous
Pep. “We’ve a great lot to tell you, Mr. Jolly.”
</p>
<p>
“And I’m anxious to hear it all,” declared
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span>
Jolly, “but we’ve got our stock to get rid of.
Nothing like keeping at it when you’ve made a
good beginning; and this town starts out promising-like.”
</p>
<p>
Frank now decided that he would remain over
at Seaside Park for another day at least. The
appearance of Ben Jolly somehow infused all
hands with renewed vim and cheerfulness. The
chums were glad also to meet Hal Vincent. He
had done them a big favor in the past and they
realized that he could be of considerable advantage
to them in the future in case they located at
Seaside Park.
</p>
<p>
Vincent had the reputation of being an accomplished
all-around entertainer. He was an expert
ventriloquist and parlor magician, liked the boys
and had told Frank on the occasion of their first
meeting that he would be glad to go on their
programme at any time for a very moderate compensation.
</p>
<p>
Ben Jolly burst in upon his young friends with
his usual bustle and buoyancy about six o’clock
that evening. He merrily chinked a pocket full
of silver and was all ready for what might next
come along, and eager to tackle it.
</p>
<p>
“Left Hal finishing one of the few full meals
he has had since his show broke up,” reported
Jolly. “Got rid of the last one of the bird
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>
houses—and, see here, Frank,” and the volatile
speaker exhibited a comfortable-looking roll of
bank notes. “That was a fine speculation, the
way it turned out, and leaves me quite in funds.
Now then, what’s the programme?”
</p>
<p>
Frank became serious at once and all the others
as well. He told his loyal friend all about their
plans and hopes. Jolly shook his head soberly
when Frank produced some figures showing that
the amount necessary to operate a new photo
playhouse was beyond their ready means.
</p>
<p>
“I’ve got nearly one hundred dollars you are
welcome to,” reported Jolly promptly, “but
that’s about my limit. You see, when I got the
money to buy that piano and the ‘noise wagon’
I practically sold my prospects for a last mess of
pottage. I’m willing to pitch in and live ’most
any way to give the new show a start, but when
it comes to raising the extra five hundred dollars
needed, I’m afraid I can’t help you much.”
</p>
<p>
Randy looked glum at this, and Pep was almost
crying. Ben Jolly sat chewing a toothpick
vigorously, his thinking cap on.
</p>
<p>
“Perhaps we had better give up the idea of
coming to Seaside Park until we are a little
stronger in a money way——” Frank had begun,
when there was an interruption.
</p>
<p>
“Someone to see Mr. Frank Durham,” announced a bellboy,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span>
appearing in the open doorway.
</p>
<p>
Frank arose from his chair promptly and went
out into the corridor.
</p>
<p>
“In the ladies’ parlor, sir,” added the bellboy,
and Frank went down the stairs, wondering who
this unexpected visitor could be.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—A FRIEND IN NEED</h2>
<p>
Frank Durham entered the ladies’ parlor of
the hotel to see a stout, dressy woman arise,
joined by a girlish companion. He recognized
both at once. They were the persons he had
taken aboard the launch from the burning motor
boat the afternoon before.
</p>
<p>
“This is Mr. Durham,” spoke Miss Porter,
and she smiled in a friendly way at our hero,
while her companion extended her bejeweled
hand with a decided show of welcome.
</p>
<p>
“I was so overcome by that explosion,” said
Mrs. Carrington, “that I just got a glimpse of
you. Then that ridiculous fainting away! I
have thanked Miss Porter a dozen times for having
had the foresight to obtain your name and
that of your brave young comrades. Now then,
Mr. Durham, if you please, sit down and give an
account of yourself.”
</p>
<p>
“In what way, madam?” asked Frank, with
an embarrassed smile, and flushing at the compliment
conveyed.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span>
</p>
<p>
“Why have you not accepted our invitation to
come up to the house, as I requested?” demanded
Mrs. Carrington, pretending to be very severe.
</p>
<p>
“I certainly appreciated your kindness in
thinking of me,” replied Frank; “but I have been
very much occupied with business and did not
know yesterday how long I would remain at Seaside
Park. Then, too, some friends arrived this
afternoon.”
</p>
<p>
“I am used to being obeyed, young man,”
Mrs. Carrington, with a playful frown. “I have
no doubt, though, that I sent a blundering messenger.
Oh, that Peter of mine! I never know
how to place him. He came back perfectly wild
over going into the motion picture business with
you. He has been tormenting me all day long
about it. I have told him decidedly that I should
not encourage him in any way.
</p>
<p>
“To tell you the truth, Mr. Durham, Peter is
a sad failure at anything that requires application
and work. I would not do you the injustice
of having you hampered by a person who
has no business training and does not know the
value of money. The fact is, Peter has been a
great cross to me of late, and I am now in correspondence
with a military school, with the idea
of getting him where a year’s discipline may do
him some good.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span>
</p>
<p>
Frank had not for a moment seriously entertained
the thought of taking Peter Carrington
into partnership. He felt immensely relieved,
however, to find that his visitor did not press
that phase of the subject.
</p>
<p>
“I have come, first and foremost,” went on
the fussy but good-natured lady, “to thank you
for what you did for us. When I think of how
near we were to drowning or burning up it makes
me shudder! My friends, who happened to see
your picture in this morning’s paper——”
</p>
<p>
“My picture?” exclaimed Frank, in bewilderment.
“What picture, Mrs. Carrington?”
</p>
<p>
“Why,” cried Mrs. Carrington, “he actually
is so modest he hasn’t realized what a hero he
has been! I refer to the splendid account of your
bravery in the <em>Brenton Daily News</em>.”
</p>
<p>
Brenton was the nearest city, about twenty
miles from Seaside Park. Frank began to get a
faint glimmering of the situation now. The reporter
who had snap-shotted him with his camera
from the pier must have sent his story to the
paper Mrs. Carrington mentioned.
</p>
<p>
“I think I have the clipping about the rescue,”
observed Miss Porter, groping in her hand bag
while her merry eyes twinkled as she observed
the increasing embarrassment of Frank. “Yes,
here it is.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span>
</p>
<p>
Frank only glanced at the clipping that was
held forward for his inspection. He could not
help but notice the glowing head line; “A Signal
Act of Bravery,” and observe that a very fair
picture of himself in the launch was shown.
</p>
<p>
“You can have it, Mr. Durham,” continued
his mischievous tormentor with a smile. “Your
friends are named also in the paper and they may
not dislike honest praise, as you seem to do.”
</p>
<p>
“Now then,” broke in Mrs. Carrington, in her
self-assertive way, “let me say what I specially
came down here to say. Oh, I was telling about
my friends. They have fairly overwhelmed me
with congratulations over my fortunate escape.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and some of them who saw the newspaper
account said—what was it, Mrs. Carrington?
You must tell Mr. Durham,” declared the
younger woman.
</p>
<p>
“About the handsome picture and what a sensible,
thoughtful young man our rescuer must
be?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, Mrs. Carrington,” pleaded Frank. “I
beg of you!—it is I who am being overwhelmed
now. You will make me so vain I will really begin
to think I did something of consequence.
Why, there isn’t a young fellow anywhere who
wouldn’t hasten to help ladies in distress.”
</p>
<p>
“Don’t belittle what you did,” said Mrs. Carrington,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span>
and her face and tone grew very serious.
“You did so much of consequence, Mr. Durham,
and you did it so manfully and nobly that I
would not think of affronting you with any offer
of a reward. I fancy I read you deeper than you
think as to that feature. I will say this, however,
and I came here especially to say it, that I am
your true friend and I am anxious to help you
and your young companions in a practical, useful
way.”
</p>
<p>
“You are very, very kind to say what you
do,” said Frank earnestly.
</p>
<p>
“Let me be really kind,” suggested Mrs. Carrington,
“and I shall be satisfied. My nephew
has told me enough about your business plans to
convince me that you are at a critical point in
your career, where a little capital may be everything
to you. I am a wealthy woman, Mr. Durham.
I do not wish to offer you a gift. Simply
as a business woman who has confidence in you,
let me know about your affairs and help you in
a business way.”
</p>
<p>
Frank’s head drooped. The boy who never
flinched from pain or fear was so deeply moved
by the friendly interest of this kind-hearted
woman, that he could not keep back a long-drawn
sigh of appreciation and gratitude.
</p>
<p>
“You make me think of my own kind
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span>
mother,” said Frank quite brokenly. “It is worth
living to find such friends.”
</p>
<p>
“You dear boy!” cried Mrs. Carrington, placing
a hand on Frank’s arm, “I can imagine what
a lovely mother you must have and for her sake
you must let me help you along in your business
enterprise. Come, Mr. Durham, explain your
needs to me and let me co-operate with you.”
</p>
<p>
The invitation was irresistible. Long since
Frank had calculated all the risks and chances of
success in his new enterprise and had decided
that it could scarcely fail.
</p>
<p>
“Mrs. Carrington,” he said in a straightforward
way, “I would not allow any person to invest
money in a business where there was the remotest
risk of loss. We lack a few hundred dollars
to start a photo playhouse at Seaside Park
in the right way. If you feel in a position to advance
it or become responsible for what we need,
I wish to secure you so that in case the venture
goes wrong we will be the only losers.”
</p>
<p>
“I not only feel willing to assist you,” said
Mrs. Carrington, “but I insist upon it. It is
very simple—how much capital do you require?
Have you my check book in your hand bag, Miss
Porter?”
</p>
<p>
“No! no! no!” interrupted Frank urgently,
“you must not think of doing such a thing as
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span>
that, Mrs. Carrington. It isn’t business, you see.
If you have some agent or lawyer who will act
for you, that will be the best way.”
</p>
<p>
The kind lady looked disappointed at the suggestion.
In her free-hearted way she wished to
trust Frank without restriction. He saw that her
feelings were hurt and he hastened to say:
</p>
<p>
“My partners will feel ever so much better to
have everything arranged in a regular way and
set down in black and white.”
</p>
<p>
“Very well, have your own way, Mr. Durham,”
said the lady, “only promise to come to
me if you have any troubles or further lack of
funds.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, we shall not,” declared Frank, brightening
with courage and confidence as he saw all obstructions
to the success of the new show removed;
and before he realized it, in his quick,
vivid way he was reciting his plans and prospects
in detail. Frank told more than he had started
out to do, for the reason that every time he
paused his auditors plied him with new questions
and urged him on with his story.
</p>
<p>
“How very, very interesting,” commented
Mrs. Carrington.
</p>
<p>
“It is simply delightful!” declared Miss Porter,
with sparkling eyes. “Oh, dear! it must be
such a splendid thing to be a boy!”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span>
</p>
<p>
“I must see your young friends,” insisted
Mrs. Carrington. “I owe them sincere thanks
for their part in the rescue, and wish to tell them
so.”
</p>
<p>
There was nothing for it but that Frank should
go for his chums. Randy was naturally bashful
in the presence of strange ladies, but Pep was
“all there.” Both Mrs. Carrington and Miss
Porter were interested in the lively lad whom they
attracted from the start and made Pep feel completely
at home with his impetuous, original ways
and remarks.
</p>
<p>
The boys promised to call upon Mrs. Carrington
as soon as they got settled at Seaside Park.
Then all three escorted the visitors to an automobile
waiting at the curb. Beside the chauffeur
they found Peter Carrington seated. He nodded
familiarly to the chums. Then he caught Pep’s
eye.
</p>
<p>
With an air of great importance and a quick
glance at his aunt and her companion, as if making
sure that they were not observing him, he
placed a finger to his lips.
</p>
<p>
“S-st!” he uttered, and winked in an altogether
mysterious manner at Pep Smith.
</p>
<p>
“‘S-st!’” repeated Pep, as the machine
started on its way—“now what in the world
does Peter Carrington mean by ‘S-st?’”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—BUSINESS BOYS</h2>
<p>
“I hope I did right, fellows,” said Frank.
</p>
<p>
“You never do any other way,” declared
Randy Powell loyally.
</p>
<p>
“Exactly my sentiments,” echoed the impetuous
Pep Smith. “You’ll say so, too; won’t you,
Mr. Jolly?”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t have to say it,” retorted Ben Jolly
quickly, “you all know I think it. You’re a man
of business, Frank Durham, and a Philadelphia
lawyer couldn’t have conducted this deal in a
neater, squarer way.”
</p>
<p>
“Thank you,” acknowledged Frank, slightly
flustered at the compliments of the coterie of
friends about him.
</p>
<p>
The new photo playhouse at Seaside Park was
a certainty. When the boys came down from
their rooms at the hotel the morning after the
visit from Mrs. Carrington and her companion,
the clerk called to Frank as he was leaving the
place.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span>
</p>
<p>
“Telephone message for you last night, Mr.
Durham,” he said. “It came about ten o’clock
and as it was not urgent and I did not wish to
disturb you, I thought I would keep it until this
morning.”
</p>
<p>
The speaker handed a memorandum slip to
Frank. It read: “Attorney William Slade, on
request of Mrs. Carrington, would like to see you
in the morning.”
</p>
<p>
Frank showed the memorandum to Randy and
Pep. The chums at once realized what it meant.
It evinced the determination of the strong-willed
Mrs. Carrington to have her own way. In fact
the boys had come to the conclusion that she
should do so. With Ben Jolly, up in their room
after their visitors had departed, they had gone
over the entire proposition in detail.
</p>
<p>
“You would be foolish to allow this chance to
get the capital you need in this business go by,”
advised Jolly. “Putting aside the fact that this
lady feels indebted to you, her offer is fair,
square and business-like.”
</p>
<p>
Frank thought over the affair in its every
phase long after Randy and Pep had gone to
sleep. Jolly and Vincent had gotten a free shelter
for their rig and left the hotel to sleep in the
wagon.
</p>
<p>
“Used to that, you know—the only way in
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span>
the world to live,” asserted Jolly, and then they
made an arrangement to meet in the morning.
The ’phone message at once set things in motion.
The chums had breakfast, Frank learned the address
of Mr. Slade, and about nine o’clock started
for his office, which was located over the bank of
the town.
</p>
<p>
“You had better meet Mr. Jolly, as we
agreed,” directed Frank to his companions.
</p>
<p>
“Where will you pick us up again?” questioned
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Why, I think I shall not be with this Mr.
Slade more than an hour,” explained Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Say, then,” suggested Pep, “suppose we go
over to the empty store you’re thinking of turning
into a motion picture show and hang around
there?”
</p>
<p>
“That empty store has a remarkable fascination
for you, Pep,” smiled Frank.
</p>
<p>
“You bet it has,” confessed Pep. “Mr. Jolly
is just as wild over it. I shouldn’t wonder if he
was looking it over carefully the first thing this
morning.”
</p>
<p>
“Very well,” said Frank, “we will all meet
there say at eleven o’clock.”
</p>
<p>
Then Frank had gone on his way to report at
the empty store half an hour earlier than he expected.
He found his chums and Ben Jolly anxiously awaiting
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span>
him. Vincent had remained with
the horse and wagon at the barn.
</p>
<p>
There were some old chairs at the rear of the
vacant building, and Mr. Morton invited them to
make free use of them. It was quite a business
conclave that grouped together while Frank told
his story. It was clear and simple. Mrs. Carrington
had instructed her attorney to advance
up to one thousand dollars to Frank and his
friends as needed.
</p>
<p>
“I insisted that we give the lady a bill of sale
of all our belongings as security,” explained
Frank. “The lawyer laughed at me. ‘You
don’t know a good thing when you see it,’ he
said. ‘Perhaps not,’ I told him; ‘but I know an
honorable way to protect those who have confidence
in me, as far as I can.’ Well, anyhow, I
made him write out a memorandum of the whole
transaction and signed a bill of sale. Was I going
too fast in setting myself up as the one man
of this very enterprising firm? I hope I did exactly
right.”
</p>
<p>
And then followed the hearty sanction of Jolly
and the boys to all Frank had done.
</p>
<p>
“I’m only a sort of drifter-in,” observed Jolly,
“so what I say is only out of friendly interest.
I would advise that just one of the firm take the
responsibility, if he’s willing, on the lease and in
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>
all business dealings. It simplifies things, you
see.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s got to be Frank, then,” spoke Randy.
</p>
<p>
“It will always be Frank,” echoed Pep. “He’s
the brains of the business; isn’t he?”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t like the way you put it as to your
being a drifter-in, as you call it, Mr. Jolly,” said
Frank. “If it wasn’t for you I am afraid the
Fairlands venture wouldn’t have amounted to
much.”
</p>
<p>
“Sho!” derided Jolly modestly.
</p>
<p>
“It’s true. You had your way about that and
drew just as little money as you could. Of
course that was an experiment, and I let you
have your own way. Now we are on a broader
basis and I’m going to have mine.”
</p>
<p>
“Are you?” challenged Jolly, with twinkling
eyes.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, sir, I am. I shall make a definite new
deal all around.”
</p>
<p>
“Will you?” said Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Don’t you doubt it. You’ve been a staunch,
helpful friend and it’s equal partners, if we come
to Seaside Park.”
</p>
<p>
“That is, you think you are going to make a
business man of me?”
</p>
<p>
“You’ve been one all along,” vociferated Pep.
“Why, that noise wagon idea alone——”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span>
</p>
<p>
“A freak,” interrupted Jolly, but Frank was
resolute and it was settled that their interesting
friend should have a quarter interest in the
profits of the new venture.
</p>
<p>
Frank called Mr. Morton into their confab.
He explained to him precisely their plans and the
extent of their capital.
</p>
<p>
“Mrs. Carrington backing you; eh?” he observed.
“That makes you pretty solid, if you
only knew it, young man, although I had about
made up my mind to accept you as a tenant without
any guarantee. Shall we call it settled—you
lease the premises until October first, pay me the
first month’s rent before you come in and give
me your word that you won’t break the lease?”
</p>
<p>
“I wouldn’t take the place on any other arrangement,”
said Frank.
</p>
<p>
“It’s settled, then,” said their landlord, and
Pep followed him as he went to the window
where the “To Rent” sign was placed, removed
it and began to tear it up. Pep was pretty near
dancing. If they had been given a palace he
could not have been more pleased.
</p>
<p>
“S-st!” sounded a sudden hail and the ubiquitous
and mysterious Peter Carrington came into
evidence just outside the open doorway.
</p>
<p>
“Hello!” challenged Pep, who could not repress
his dislike for a fellow who had played the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>
eavesdropper and left a relative to the risk of
drowning. “What you snooping around
for?”
</p>
<p>
“Wanted to see you.”
</p>
<p>
“All right,” nodded Pep carelessly. “You
don’t have to ‘S-st’ at me regularly to get my
attention, though. What’s on your mind?”
</p>
<p>
“I see the rent sign is down.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” proclaimed Pep grandly, “we have
leased the premises.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, I’m dead gone on being a partner.
Aunt Susie discourages me, but I don’t care for
that. There’s an uncle of mine over in Brenton
who says he will back me if the thing shows up
good, and I want to have a talk with you fellows——”
</p>
<p>
“Say, we have all the capital we need,” announced
Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, you have?”
</p>
<p>
“A new partner just came in.”
</p>
<p>
“Huh!” snorted Peter. “Say, you don’t
mean my aunt?”
</p>
<p>
“She is not a partner, no.”
</p>
<p>
Peter looked abashed, then disappointed, then
angry.
</p>
<p>
“’Tain’t fair!” he declared.
</p>
<p>
“What isn’t fair?”
</p>
<p>
“I spoke first and I deserve to have a show.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>
</p>
<p>
“No one asked you to speak first; did he?”
propounded Pep bluntly.
</p>
<p>
This staggered Peter. He stood thinking
deeply. Then he looked Pep over and seemed to
be studying something.
</p>
<p>
“See here,” he said with a half-cunning expression
in his face, “I suppose you know a heap
about the movies?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, tolerable, tolerable,” responded Pep,
who did indeed think so.
</p>
<p>
“And you remember Greg Grayson, of Fairlands?”
</p>
<p>
“I have a perfectly clear memory of Mr.
Gregory Grayson,” answered Pep, his nostrils
dilating, but Peter was too obtuse to read between
the lines.
</p>
<p>
“Well, I’ve got an idea,” chuckled Peter.
“Anybody has a right to start a movies show;
haven’t they?”
</p>
<p>
“If they want to, I suppose.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, since I can’t make a deal with that
Durham, I’m going it on my own hook. I can
raise the money; Greg’s father is rich and he can
help. All we need is someone who knows the
practical end of the business. Say, you come in
with us and I’ll give you double what you expect
to make with those fellows there.”
</p>
<p>
Pep doubled up a fist. He was angry clear
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>
through. At a mere hint of disloyalty to his famous
friends he took fire. He gave Peter a push.
</p>
<p>
“You get out!” he ordered staunchly.
</p>
<p>
“Hey?” goggled Peter.
</p>
<p>
“And stay out!”
</p>
<p>
“Humph!”
</p>
<p>
Peter got to a safe distance. Then he shook
his fist at Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Say,” he snarled, “you’ve waked up the
wrong customer. I’ve given you the chance of
your life and you’ve turned me down and insulted
me. I’ll show you something. Greg Grayson
and I will put a spoke in the wheel of that
Frank Durham and your whole precious crowd;
see of we don’t!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—KIDNAPPED</h2>
<p>
“If I had our old piano here,” said Ben Jolly,
“there’s one tune I’d play for all it’s worth.”
</p>
<p>
“What is that, Mr. Jolly?” inquired Frank
Durham.
</p>
<p>
“‘Home, Sweet Home.’”
</p>
<p>
The staunch friend of the motion picture chums
waved his hand like a showman proudly exhibiting
wares. He had a smiling and enthusiastic
audience. Everybody was smiling, even Hal
Vincent, who had no particular interest in the
new photo playhouse. Frank’s face was beaming,
Randy looked his delight and Pep uttered
the words, with unction:
</p>
<p>
“It’s simply great!”
</p>
<p>
Two days had made considerable difference in
the situation at Seaside Park. All hands had
entered with enthusiasm into the proposition of
starting in on the new deal, with the certainty
in view of sufficient capital to finance them for
at least two months ahead. The chums spent so
many delightful hours figuring, planning, and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span>
mapping out details that Randy got to talking in
his sleep, and Pep aroused all hands by screaming
out in the midst of a nightmare in which he
had started a photo playhouse in China, and the
natives had mobbed him when a film showed one
of their favorite mandarins being carried away in
an airship.
</p>
<p>
It was Jolly, however—bustling, practical Ben
Jolly—who had won the laurels on the present
occasion. When the vacant store had been used,
at the rear was a temporary kitchen. This was
a frail structure set on stilts, but roomy and just
the thing for summer occupancy. Jolly was a
natural born trader. It seemed that he found
some difficulty in disposing of the old horse and
wagon for cash. Finally, however, he came
across a dealer in second hand furniture. Jolly
had got the idea in his head of cutting down
living expenses and utilizing the old kitchen
tacked on to the store building.
</p>
<p>
The chums were down at the hotel that afternoon
and Jolly planned a grand surprise for
them. It was now, upon their arrival at the
playhouse building, that the pleasure and praise
of the motion picture chums hailed him.
</p>
<p>
No one could have failed to approve of the
wonderful transformation Jolly had made in a
bare, cheerless lumber room. He had traded
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span>
to good advantage. There was a substantial
table, a half dozen chairs, a cupboard, a gas stove,
a complete outfit of culinary utensils, dishes and
table cutlery, neat curtains for the windows and
drapery dividing the room in two parts, and one
side section again into two compartments.
</p>
<p>
In each of these were three cots, a table and a
bureau. The cots had double equipment of
sheets and blankets, worn but attractive rugs
covered the floor, and there were several pictures
on the walls. It was no wonder that Pep Smith
burst forth in his usual responsive way with the
declaration:
</p>
<p>
“It’s simply great!”
</p>
<p>
“When you come to think that I got all those
traps and forty dollars in cash to boot for that
impossible old rig of ours,” observed Jolly, “you
will see that I made a very interesting dicker.
What do you say, Durham; we can make a neat
cut in expenses, eh?”
</p>
<p>
“Why, it makes easy the hardest part of our
whole proposition,” declared Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and here we can always be right on the
spot,” spoke Randy.
</p>
<p>
“I’m something of a cook,” boasted Jolly. “I
don’t say I could make bread or pie, but as to
common, everyday food, an occasional strawberry
shortcake, or even doughnuts—well, you
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span>
stock up with the supplies and I’ll promise to do
my best.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s just fine,” voted Pep. “The sleeping
rooms look right across to the ocean and there’s
a splendid sweep of air with all these openings.
It will be cool and comfortable on the very hottest
nights. I’ll wash all the dishes, Mr. Jolly,
and set the table, and all that.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, we shall get on famously, I am sure of
that,” observed Frank with keen satisfaction.
</p>
<p>
The boys decided that they would at once
move their traps from the hotel and make permanent
headquarters at their home base. They
had their first meal in their new quarters that
evening.
</p>
<p>
“You have certainly given us a royal meal,
Mr. Jolly,” declared Frank, as beefsteak, fried
potatoes, bakery biscuit, and coffee and a really
creditable corn starch pudding went the rounds.
</p>
<p>
“Sorry I’ve got to leave you,” remarked Vincent.
“I’d ask nothing better than to camp right
here for the rest of the season.”
</p>
<p>
“Then why not do it?” inquired the ready
Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, if you care to take pot luck with us till
we get fairly on our feet, you can certainly help
us along with all your varied accomplishments,
Mr. Vincent,” declared Frank.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>
</p>
<p>
“I’ve got that in mind,” explained Vincent,
“but I must get to New York first. You see,
the show I was with that broke up owes me
money. I want to see if I can’t get something
out of the wreck and I want to call on the backers
of the proposition. I’d better get to the city
while I have the partnership profits Jolly has been
good enough to say I have earned on that bird
house speculation. If I don’t it will melt away.”
</p>
<p>
“I say,” here put in Jolly, “why don’t you
and Durham go together? As it’s arranged,
Durham, you have got to put in a day or two
arranging for what new equipment we need and
the film service.”
</p>
<p>
“That is true,” replied Frank, “and Mr. Vincent
knows so much about the motion picture
business his advice and help would be of great
benefit to me.”
</p>
<p>
“I do know the ropes among the movies pretty
well,” said Vincent. “I will be more than glad
to take you the rounds and see that you get the
very best service and figures, Mr. Durham.”
</p>
<p>
“And I am to go back to Fairlands and arrange
about moving what we want of the old
outfit?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“I think that is the best arrangement, yes,”
assented Frank. “Randy and Pep must stay here
to look after the place and receive what I may
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>
ship and what you send on. Then, before we
start, the three of us must run down to Fairlands
to see the folks.”
</p>
<p>
Everything was settled on that basis. It
would take about ten days to get the place fitted
up as the boys wanted it, Mr. Morton told
them. In the meantime there were many little
things that needed to be done in which two handy
lads like Randy and Pep might help. They and
Jolly went to the train to see Frank and Vincent
off the next morning. Two hours later Ben
Jolly took a train in another direction, bound for
Fairlands and carrying messages from the boys
to their home folks and friends.
</p>
<p>
Part of the fixing up of the store room Mr.
Morton had agreed to do at his own expense.
There were, however, innumerable details that
fell to the lot of the boys themselves. There
were rolls of matting to buy for the center aisle,
and the stage was to be built under Randy’s supervision.
They had decided to use the old name,
“Wonderland,” so as to utilize the ornate electric
sign they had at Fairlands, and Pep was
given charge of having this same name placed in
a decorative way on the two front windows.
</p>
<p>
Nobody could work with Randy and Pep without
coming under the influence of their sunshiny
natures. Randy was willing, accommodating and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span>
tireless when he liked a job. Pep was no laggard,
either, and in addition he kept up such a
lively chatter and made so many funny remarks
that he had Mr. Morton grinning half the time.
</p>
<p>
The result was that not only did the owner
of the place do all that he had agreed to do, but
did it just as the boys wanted. Then again when
it came to things not in his contract, he supplied
the material voluntarily and ended up by helping
the boys at their tasks.
</p>
<p>
At the end of three days Randy and Pep
prided themselves on having accomplished wonders.
They had added several genuine comforts
to their living quarters at the rear and had pretty
well spread the news over Seaside Park that a
first-class photo playhouse was soon to be
opened.
</p>
<p>
A letter came from Frank Saturday morning.
It told of his busy hours in the city and referred
to Vincent as a splendid help in introducing him
among the motion picture supply men. He sent
on a bundle of film and song posters from which
Pep could scarcely keep his hands. Frank mentioned
some of the movies accessories he had
purchased and told of some novel features in the
way of films for which he had contracted.
</p>
<p>
“I tell you, Pep, we’re in for the best or nothing
this time; eh?” questioned Randy, almost
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>
as much excited as his chums over the prospects
of the new Wonderland.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I’m ’way up in the clouds all of the
time,” piped Pep. “Why, I’ll feel like a girl
just going into society. I’m going to call it a
short day and quit. There are some groceries to
order, so I’ll attend to that and we’ll take in the
beach this evening.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, we’ve earned a little recreation, I think,”
agreed Randy.
</p>
<p>
Pep started off, whistling like some happy
lark. It was then five o’clock in the afternoon
and he was due to return in half an hour. Double
that time passed on, however, yet he did not appear.
</p>
<p>
“Wonder why Pep doesn’t show up?” ruminated
Randy. “It’s time he did, as we wanted
to get an early start.”
</p>
<p>
At half past six Randy was nervous and a little
put out. At seven o’clock he put on his cap and
started to lock up to go in quest of his missing
comrade.
</p>
<p>
Just as he came out on the broad planking leading
from the boardwalk to the entrance to the
store, a man hailed him. He was a stout, lumbering
old fellow whom Randy had seen before.
</p>
<p>
“Hi!” he hailed, “you remember me; don’t
you?”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>
</p>
<p>
“Why yes,” nodded Randy. “You are the
man Mr. Jolly traded his rig with for our furniture.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s it,” nodded the man. “I say, I
thought I’d come and tell you. It was near my
place that the accident happened.”
</p>
<p>
“What accident?” challenged Randy sharply.
</p>
<p>
“Automobile—that young fellow that’s joshing
and jollying all the time——”
</p>
<p>
“You mean Pep—Pepperill Smith?” asked
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“That’s him, I remember hearing Jolly call
him by that name. Well, it was him that got
hurt and——”
</p>
<p>
“Hurt!” cried Randy, alarmed at the word—“When?
How? Where?”
</p>
<p>
“About an hour ago, by an automobile in front
of my place,” was the reply.
</p>
<p>
“Was he—was Pep seriously hurt?” faltered
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Not but what he could walk and sass the
chauffeur, and all that; but I reckon one hand
was pretty badly crushed. The reason I came
to tell you was, that isn’t all of it. From what
I hear he is kidnapped.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—PEP IN CLOVER</h2>
<p>
“Kidnapped!” repeated Randy, in a hollow
tone.
</p>
<p>
The furniture man nodded his head assentingly.
He was big and fat and had evidently
come in a hurry. He had been blunt, but confused
in telling his story. Now he took a long
breath to begin again.
</p>
<p>
Randy felt his heart sink. Everything had
been going so well that the sudden news of an
interruption to their buoyant progress chilled him
through sheer contrast. He fancied all kinds
of mishaps, and, seizing his visitor by the sleeve,
pulled it in a worried way.
</p>
<p>
“Tell me all about it—quick,” he demanded.
</p>
<p>
“Thought I had, but I guess you didn’t get it
straight. This Pep of yours was passing my
place when I heard a woman shriek a bit ahead.
She had left her child in a baby carriage while
she went into a dry goods store. There came a
whiff of wind down the street just as she came
out. I don’t wonder she hollered out, for that
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span>
baby carriage was shooting across the street like
a feather in a tornado.”
</p>
<p>
“But—Pep?” urged Randy, breathlessly.
“What of him?”
</p>
<p>
“He saw it in a flash. The woman stood motionless
and screaming. This Pep made a sprint.
I never saw anything done so splendidly. In
a flash he slid over the pavement—just seemed
to fly over the street, making for that baby carriage.
No wonder he hurried and no wonder
the woman screamed, for exactly at that instant
a great red touring car came tearing around the
corner. It held the chauffeur and a fine looking
old gentleman, who just rose up in his seat with
a yell as he saw that baby carriage directly in
the path of the machine.
</p>
<p>
“There wasn’t even time for the chauffeur to
move the wheel. I actually shut my eyes, thinking
the smash was bound to come. I don’t know
how the lad did it, but when I opened them, just
cold with horror, there he was lying on the ground
and the baby carriage spinning safe and sound
across the street.”
</p>
<p>
“How badly was Pep hurt?” inquired Randy,
his face pale with suspense.
</p>
<p>
“I heard someone in the crowd say his wrist
was broken. It seems, at the risk of his own
life, he had made that dash for the baby carriage
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>
and given it a push out of the way of the auto
just as it was pouncing down upon it.”
</p>
<p>
“Where is Pep now?” asked Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Why, that is the queer part of it. The passenger
in the machine jumped out and picked him
up. He lifted him into the auto. He didn’t
seem to want to go with the man, but they speeded
up and I supposed they were going to bring him
here, or to the nearest doctor, or the hospital.
A police officer came up right after the accident
on a motorcycle. He made some inquiries, took
some notes and went away again. Just now he
came back and said that he could find no trace
of machine or boy, and that he had learned that
the auto had been driven out of town on the
west road as fast as it could go. Don’t you see—kidnapped!”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t!” cried Randy almost frantically,
“Wasn’t it enough that they ran him down, without
carrying him away nobody knows where?
Oh, I must get straight on his track—I must find
Pep!”
</p>
<p>
“The police didn’t,” suggested the furniture
man.
</p>
<p>
“I don’t care for that—I will!”
</p>
<p>
“Mebbe I’d better give you my address,” said
his visitor. “There’s been several accidents here
lately. It’s mostly tourists passing through the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>
town who are reckless about how they drive—rich
old fellows who don’t value life or limb, and
get out of the way fast as they can when they’ve
done any damage. I suppose the man who owns
the machine that hurt your friend had heard of
how one or two before him had been arrested
and fined and forced to pay heavy damages, and
just thought he’d grab up the lad and get him
and himself out of the way before any investigation
was made.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s shameful!” exclaimed Randy, wrought
up now to the highest pitch of excitement and
indignation. “Poor Pep! He may be suffering
tortures and all those inhuman wretches think
about is getting clear of being found out. I’ll
find him—I’ll run down his kidnappers and bring
them to account, even if the police can’t.”
</p>
<p>
The excited Randy did not even wait for the
furniture man, but ran down the boardwalk and
then in the direction of the man’s store fast as he
could. There was not much to learn there outside
of what he already knew. His next call was
at the police station. He was incensed at the indifference
of the officers. They had investigated
the accident as far as required, they claimed.
The injured boy had been taken out of their
jurisdiction and that seemed to lead them to believe
that it ended their responsibility.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>
</p>
<p>
Randy knew the direction the red automobile
had taken. He proceeded to a livery garage
where motorcycles were on rent, and made himself
known. He was well up in running the machine
and was soon speeding on the trail of his
missing chum, as he supposed and hoped. The
west road out of Seaside Park was the best in the
section. It ran to Brenton and beyond that to
the large cities. There was every reason to believe
that the kidnappers, if such they were,
would favor a smooth, easily traversed highway
over inferior dirt and stone roads that ran parallel.
</p>
<p>
Randy stopped at the first little town he came
to and made some inquiries, but they availed
him nothing. Five miles further on, however,
he got a clue. Here were crossroads and a
“Roadside Rest,” a general halting place for
road-men. Several autos were in view, their occupants
taking lunch in a pavilion near the hotel
or walking about stretching their limbs.
</p>
<p>
A man who wore a banded cap and a close
fitting coat flitted around here and there in an
important way, and Randy decided he must be
a sort of major domo about the place.
</p>
<p>
“I would like to inquire about an automobile
that passed or stopped here within the past hour,”
spoke Randy, approaching this man.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span>
</p>
<p>
“Where from? What number?” inquired
the latter.
</p>
<p>
“I don’t know,” explained Randy, “but I will
give you the best description I can from heresay.
It was a big red car, and besides the chauffeur
and passenger there was a boy about my age who
had got his arm hurt——”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I know now,” interrupted the man—“you
mean Colonel Tyson’s car. They stopped
to get a wet towel soaked in ice water to wrap
around the boy’s wrist, I fancy, for he was holding
one arm and seemed in pain.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, yes—that is my friend,” declared Randy
hastily. “Which way did the machine go?”
</p>
<p>
“To Brenton, of course, where it belongs.”
</p>
<p>
“Then you know its owner?”
</p>
<p>
“Everybody knows him—Tyson, the millionaire.
Used to be a big bond man in New York
City.”
</p>
<p>
“Thank you,” said Randy and was off on his
travels again. “I hope Pep isn’t hurt badly,”
he mused. “He doesn’t seem to be from what
I hear; but why is this rich old fellow running
away with him?”
</p>
<p>
It was quite late in the evening when Randy
reached Brenton. He felt easier, now that he
seemed sure of locating his chum, or at least running
down the people who had carried him away.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span>
Once at Brenton there was no difficulty in finding
the Tyson home. It was a very fine mansion
with big grounds about it, but Randy was not
at all awed by that. He ran his machine up to
the stone porch and ascending the steps rang the
door bell. A servant answered the summons.
</p>
<p>
“Is Mr. Tyson at home?” Randy inquired.
</p>
<p>
“He is at home, yes,” replied the servant,
studying critically the dust-covered caller. “Business
with him?”
</p>
<p>
“I have. You just tell him I am Randy
Powell, from Seaside Park, and I came about the
automobile accident.”
</p>
<p>
The servant left Randy standing in the vestibule
until a portly, consequential-looking man appeared.
He viewed Randy in a shrewd, supercilious
way.
</p>
<p>
“What’s your business?” he challenged
crisply.
</p>
<p>
“Are you Mr. Tyson?”
</p>
<p>
“Never mind that. What are you after?”
</p>
<p>
“But I do mind it,” retorted Randy boldly.
“If you are Mr. Tyson, it was your machine that
ran down a friend of mine back at Seaside Park
a couple of hours ago, and I want to know what
you have done with him.”
</p>
<p>
Mr. Tyson looked a trifle flustered; then very
much annoyed. He said:
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span>
</p>
<p>
“I’ve done nothing with him. He just came
along. Say, I hope you haven’t gone and stirred
up a lot of notoriety and trouble for me along
the line.”
</p>
<p>
“Why should I—unless you deserve it.”
</p>
<p>
“Ha—hum!” muttered the millionaire. “See
here, come in. You look reasonable—more so
than that young wildcat friend of yours unless he
has his own way.”
</p>
<p>
Mr. Tyson led Randy into a magnificently furnished
room, nodded him to a chair and sat down
facing him.
</p>
<p>
“See here,” he spoke, “you just tell me how
much rumpus you have raised about this unfortunate
affair.”
</p>
<p>
“I’ve raised no rumpus,” declared Randy.
“I’ve simply run down your automobile, which
the police of Seaside Park didn’t seem able or
inclined to do.”
</p>
<p>
“I’m glad of that,” said Mr. Tyson, apparently
greatly relieved, “and there will be no trouble
at all in fixing up things satisfactorily all around.
You would have heard from me before midnight,
for this Pep—ought to be called Pepper—just
ordered that his friend at Seaside Park—I suppose
it’s you?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, it’s me,” declared Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Well, he wanted word sent to you.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span>
</p>
<p>
“Is he badly hurt?” inquired Randy solicitously.
</p>
<p>
“Not at all—but that isn’t it. See here, lad,
because I’m supposed to have a lot of money I
seem to be a mark for everybody. I have been
unfortunate enough to have various accidents
with my machine. A month ago I ran down a
man. About all he did was to stub his toe, but
he’s sued me for twenty thousand dollars damages
and has a doctor ready to swear he is crippled
for life. Last week I ran over a valuable
dog at Seaside Park and the magistrate fined me
fifty dollars for speeding over the limit, and said
if there was another complaint he would give me
a jail sentence. Ugh! fine thing to be rich; isn’t
it?”
</p>
<p>
Mr. Tyson really looked so disgusted that
Randy could not refrain from smiling.
</p>
<p>
“The newspapers got hold of it and pictured
me as a regular ogre. Now it wasn’t our fault
at all when this friend of yours got hurt this
evening. He had no business in the street—don’t
you see?”
</p>
<p>
“Say, if he hadn’t got there where would that
child in the baby carriage be?” demanded Randy
indignantly.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, that’s true,” agreed the millionaire
slowly, “but even there they could not legally
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span>
hold us. The baby carriage had no lights on
it. Let all that go, though. This Pep was a
brave fellow to risk his life for the child, and I’m
glad he did it. My lawyer, after the last case,
though, told me what to do in future accidents,
so I followed his advice. I captured your friend
and I intend to keep him captured.”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t think you will,” began Randy, rising
wrathfully to his feet. “He’s a poor boy, but
he’s got some friends and——”
</p>
<p>
“Pish! Don’t get excited. Keep cool, lad,
hear me through. We rushed your friend here,
summoned the best surgeon in Brenton, and this
Pep of yours is snug and comfortable as a dormouse—in
bed in the best room in the house.
I’m going to give him the best of care and pay
him for any loss of time he may sustain. Isn’t
that fair?”
</p>
<p>
“Why—I suppose so,” admitted Randy.
“Only—what does Pep say?”
</p>
<p>
“Well, at first he was going to fight us, lame
hand and all. Then the surgeon talked some
sense into him, by telling him that if he would
use a little care and not use his arm he would
be well as ever inside of a week. If he didn’t, he
may have all kinds of complications in the future.
To be frank with you, all I care for is to turn
the boy out sound and well, so he can’t be coming along
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span>
later on with another of those twenty
thousand dollar damage suits.”
</p>
<p>
“Can I see him?” inquired Randy.
</p>
<p>
“You surely can,” replied Mr. Tyson with
alacrity, “and I hope you will coöperate with
us in urging him to stay here and follow the
directions of the doctor.”
</p>
<p>
Mr. Tyson had not overstated the case when
he told Randy that Pep was well cared for. As
Randy entered a great luxuriously furnished room
upstairs he saw his comrade propped up in bed,
his arm in a sling and a table spread with dainties
directly at hand.
</p>
<p>
“You tell him to stay here,” whispered Mr.
Tyson in Randy’s ear, and left the two boys to
themselves.
</p>
<p>
Pep grinned as he welcomed Randy. He
moved his injured arm to show that he was by
no means helpless.
</p>
<p>
“I’m booked here for a week, Randy,” were
his first words—“but why not? There won’t be
much to do around the new show for some days
to come, and if there was I wouldn’t be any help
with my crippled arm.”
</p>
<p>
Then Pep in a modest way went on to give details
of the accident.
</p>
<p>
“You see,” were his concluding remarks, “I’m
comfortable and well cared for here and, as the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span>
surgeon says, I might have trouble with my arm
if I got careless with it. Mr. Tyson says he
will pay me for any loss time, so don’t worry
about me. I’ll show up at Seaside Park before
the week is over with a neat little lot of cash
in my pocket, and fresh and strong to help get
the new Wonderland in ship shape order.”
</p>
<p>
Thus Pep dismissed the incident of the hour,
so Randy went “home,” rather lonesome without
his chum. Neither guessed for a moment that
there was to grow out of the circumstance something
destined to affect their whole business
career.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—THE PRESS AGENT</h2>
<p>
“I hardly know how to thank you, Mr. Vincent,”
spoke Frank Durham.
</p>
<p>
“Don’t try to,” replied the ventriloquist, in his
usual offhand way.
</p>
<p>
Frank, practically a beginner in the profession,
and Hal Vincent, a seasoned graduate, were saying
good-bye to each other on the steps of the
building which contained the offices and warerooms
of the great National Film Exchange.
</p>
<p>
For several days the ears of our young hero
had buzzed with little besides “movies” chatter.
When Frank had first gone into the business and
had bid in at auction the outfit now at Fairlands,
he had learned the basis of the trade through
an interesting day spent at a motion picture supply
house in the small city near his home. He
found New York on a larger scale, however.
Even within the few months that had elapsed
since he and his chums had started the Wonderland
photo playhouse there had been improvements, innovations
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span>
and new wrinkles without
number.
</p>
<p>
Frank now came in contact with these. It was
a great advantage to him that he had Vincent
to act as guide and adviser. The latter entered
into the spirit of the occasion with the zest of
an expert showing a novice the ground he has
so often traversed. Vincent was not only active
and obliging, but he was observant and shrewd.
He knew the best supply sources in the city and
how to handle them.
</p>
<p>
It embarrassed Frank the first time Vincent,
in his breezy showman’s way, introduced him to
the proprietor of the National Film Exchange.
According to the versatile and voluble ventriloquist,
Frank and his chums, Randy and Pep, were
young prodigies who had built up a mammoth
photo playhouse enterprise at Fairlands out of
nothing and had scored a phenomenal success.
And still further, according to Vincent, Frank
had secured a most favorable contract at Seaside
Park, and was about to reap profits from a project
that would set the pace in summer outing
resorts for the season.
</p>
<p>
“Now this is confidential, Byllesby,” observed
Vincent, buttonholing the movies man and assuming
a dreadfully important air, as he glanced mysteriously
about the place as if fearful of eavesdroppers—“this
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span>
is probably one of a chain of
shows Durham may manage. Don’t lisp it to
anybody, but one of his backers is a lady—well,
I think she is rated at a cool half-million in real
coin. You won’t have to wait for your money
from the Durham combination, so hand out only
the best and latest on the closest terms—understand?”
</p>
<p>
As said, Frank found that even within the six
months that had passed since he had bought their
original motion picture outfit science had been
busy in the improvement of old and the invention
of new devices. Kinetoscopes, cameragraphs—all
the varied list of projecting apparatus had
progressed fast. It kept his mind on the alert
to catch the explanations of the newest thing in
condensing glasses, front and rear; jackets and
tubes, transformers, shutters, iris dissolvers, knife
switches and slide carriers. It was all part of an
education in the line of business activity he had
adopted, however, and Frank drank in lots of
knowledge during that New York trip.
</p>
<p>
He was full of pleasant anticipation and eager
to rejoin his friends at Seaside Park, to go over
with them his list of the wonderful things purchased
and tell them about the satisfactory arrangements
he had made for new feature films as
they came along. He shook Vincent’s hand
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span>
heartily in parting. Frank added a word or two,
telling how he hoped they would see the ventriloquist
down at Seaside Park soon.
</p>
<p>
“I have a fair chance of getting something
out of the road venture that burst up and left
me stranded when I ran across Jolly,” explained
Vincent. “As soon as that is settled, which may
be in less than a week, I’ll be down at the new
Wonderland—don’t doubt it. Move on a bit;
will you, Durham?” Vincent spoke in a quick
undertone, his eyes fixed on an approaching
pedestrian who at once attracted Frank’s attention.
</p>
<p>
He was the typical tragedian out at elbows, but
showing his consciousness of being “an actor.”
He wore one rusty glove. The other hand was
thrust into the breast of his tightly buttoned frock
coat. His hair was long, and his hat, once a
silk tile, was dented and yellowed by usage.
Frank’s companion did not escape. The eagle
eye of the oncomer was fixed upon him and would
not leave him.
</p>
<p>
“Ah, Hal!” he hailed, extending his gloved
hand with a bow of real elegance—“howdy.
Off the circuit? So am I. I see you are eating,”
and he glanced up and down the new suit
of clothes Vincent had been enabled to purchase
from his share in the bird house speculation.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span>
</p>
<p>
“That’s about all I am able to arrange for,” declared
Vincent, bluntly.
</p>
<p>
“I expect a check,” proceeded the newcomer
grandly. “Avaricious, but wealthy relative. If
I could anticipate till to-morrow, now——”
</p>
<p>
“Not from me, I can tell you that,” interrupted
Vincent definitely.
</p>
<p>
“Only a dollar. You see——”
</p>
<p>
“A dime wouldn’t make any difference until
I get my settlement from the people who sent
me out to starve,” insisted Vincent.
</p>
<p>
Frank was interested in the odd, airy individual,
who struck him as a rather obsolete type of
the fraternity. He smiled, and this was encouragement
for the frayed actor, who touched
his hat again and extended his gloved hand, this
time towards Frank, with the words:
</p>
<p>
“Surely we have met somewhere on the
boards? Was it in Philadelphia, when I was
press agent for the United Thespian? Perhaps
that will assist your memory.”
</p>
<p>
Frank good-naturedly accepted and glanced
over a very dirty and worn card bearing the inscription:
“Roderick James Booth: Press Agent.” Frank shook his head,
</p>
<p>
“I have not had the honor of meeting you before, Mr. Booth,” he said.
</p>
<p>
“In the line, I suppose?” insinuated Booth.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span>
</p>
<p>
“If you mean of theatricals—hardly,” replied
Frank. “I have done a little in the motion picture
field.”
</p>
<p>
“Ah!” exclaimed Booth, with great animation,
striking a pose—“there, indeed, is a field.
Young man; I proclaim a wonderful future for
the photo playhouse. Let me see, where are you
located now—and the name, I didn’t quite catch
the name?”
</p>
<p>
“I am Frank Durham,” replied our young
hero, “and with some others expect to open a
new motion picture show at Seaside Park.”
</p>
<p>
“Ah, a hit! Think of it! Beside the soothing
waves, dancing breezes, vast throngs, stupendous
profits. Only one thing lacking—an able
press agent. Sir,” and Booth raised himself to
his loftiest height, “I papered Baltimore till the
house was jammed. The United Thespians—sir,
a moment, aside. Mr. Vincent will pardon
us. Could you anticipate——”
</p>
<p>
Frank knew what was coming. The man did
not look like a drinker and he did look hungry.
Vincent nudged Frank warningly, but Frank
could not resist a generous impulse.
</p>
<p>
Mr. Booth almost danced as a crisp dollar bill
was placed in his hand. Then he took out a pencil
and memorandum book. Very carefully and
laboriously he began to write:
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span>
</p>
<p>
“Durham, Seaside Park. I. O. U. one dollar.
Mem: suggest plan for publicity campaign.”
</p>
<p>
“You’ve put your foot in it this time, Durham,”
exclaimed Vincent almost wrathfully, as
with a great flourish Booth went on his way.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, pshaw!” laughed Frank, “the poor fellow
probably needs a square meal.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, but you needn’t have told him who you
were and about the new Wonderland. Why,
within an hour he will be telling his friends of a
new opening at Seaside Park—engaged for the
season—forfeit money already paid. Besides
that, I wouldn’t wonder to see him put in an appearance
personally with one of his wild publicity
schemes direct at Seaside Park. Oh, you can
laugh, but once he sets out on your trail, and you
encourage him, you’ll find it no easy matter to
shake him off,” a prediction by the way that
Frank and his chums had reason to recall a little
later.
</p>
<p>
Frank was in fine spirits when he reached Seaside
Park. Everything had gone famously with
him in the city. He had been introduced to a
man who operated a string of summer resort
motion picture shows, and he had gleaned an immense
amount of information. The man had reduced
his special line to a science and had made
money at it, and Frank was greatly encouraged.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span>
</p>
<p>
It was late in the afternoon when he started
from the depot for the new quarters. He was
pleased and satisfied as his eye ran over the front
of the old store. Various touches of paint had
made the entrance attractive, the broad windows
bore each a fine plain sign, and a very ornamental
ticket booth was in place. Frank found the front
doors partially open, and passed the length of
the great room to come unawares upon his
friends in the living quarters at the rear.
</p>
<p>
“Good!” shouted a familiar voice, and Ben
Jolly, wearing a kitchen apron and just getting
supper ready, waved a saucepan over his head in
jubilant welcome.
</p>
<p>
“I say, you people have been doing some work
here since I left,” cried Frank, as he shook hands
with Randy. “Why, where is Pep?”
</p>
<p>
“There’s a story to that,” explained Randy.
“He’s safe and sound, but may not be here till
to-morrow or the next day.”
</p>
<p>
“Gone home to see his folks?” hazarded
Frank.
</p>
<p>
“No, not that,” dissented Randy. “Tell you,
Frank, it’s quite a long story. Suppose we get
the meal on the table, and seated comfortably,
and we’ll all have a lot to tell; eh?”
</p>
<p>
“Just the thing,” voted Jolly with his usual
enthusiasm. “I’ve got a famous rice pudding
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span>
on the bill of fare, Durham, and I’ll guarantee
you’ll enjoy a good home meal once more.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s just what I will,” agreed Frank.
</p>
<p>
He sat down and busied himself sorting some
bills and circulars with which his pockets were
filled. Then, as the smoking viands were placed
on the table, he joined his friends.
</p>
<p>
“Now then, Durham, you first,” directed Jolly.
“How’s the New York end of the proposition?”
</p>
<p>
“Famous,” reported Frank heartily. “I’ve
made some fortunate discoveries and investments—pass
the potatoes; will you, Randy?”
</p>
<p>
“Hold on!” cried a familiar voice—“I’m on
the programme for some of that, too!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—CROSSED WIRES</h2>
<p>
“Why, hello, Pep!” exclaimed Frank in joyful
surprise, jumping up from the table and greeting
the missing chum with a hearty handshake.
</p>
<p>
“Hold on—go a little easy on that hand,”
spoke the unexpected guest. “It’s the one I hurt
in that automobile accident, you know, and not
quite as strong as it used to be.”
</p>
<p>
“What automobile accident?” inquired Frank
in surprise.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, that’s so,” broke in Randy quickly—“Frank
has just got back from the city and hasn’t
heard of it yet. We didn’t expect you so soon.
You wrote us yesterday you wouldn’t leave Brenton
until Saturday.”
</p>
<p>
“Humph! Had to,” said Pep with a wry
grimace.
</p>
<p>
“How is that?”
</p>
<p>
“Fired,” explained Pep tersely, and looking as
if he had not enjoyed the experience one bit.
“Say, don’t bother me now about it. I’m hungry as a
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>
bear, and had to walk eight miles to get
here before dark, and I’ll feel better natured when
I’ve had something to eat and a little rest.”
</p>
<p>
Ben Jolly arched his eyebrows in an inquiring
way and Randy looked Pep over sharply. Jolly
had just returned from Fairlands that morning,
and Randy had heard from Pep by mail only
twice during his sojourn at the Tyson home at
Brenton. From all he had learned and seen during
his brief visit there, Randy had been led to
believe that Pep would return with waving colors.
He would not only be mended up, as Randy had
reason to figure it out, but would have a comfortable
sum of money representing lost time.
</p>
<p>
Pep, however, did not look like a favorite of
fortune. He used both hands with equal celerity
in dispatching the meal, and his injured wrist
seemed to give him no inconvenience or pain.
His face was glum, however, and when he spoke
of being “fired” Randy knew that something
was up.
</p>
<p>
“Tell us about this accident of yours, Pep,”
urged Frank as all hands got over the first
promptings of appetite.
</p>
<p>
“Randy will,” snapped Pep.
</p>
<p>
Randy was agreeable to the suggestion. He
was glad to descend on the heroism of his chum,
and dwelt somewhat upon the bravery of Pep in
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span>
risking his life for the little child in the baby
carriage. Randy led the course of the narrative
to his visit to Brenton, the peculiar situation in
which he found Pep, and detailed the contents
of the two letters he had received from their absent
partner.
</p>
<p>
“Well, Pep,” hailed Frank heartily, at the end
of the story. “I suppose you’ve turned out an
adopted son or great favorite with this Mr. Tyson.”
</p>
<p>
Pep had just finished a second helping of
Jolly’s famous rice pudding and was ready to
talk now.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, yes, I have! See me!” he retorted in a
scornful and disgusted way. “Say, the next fellow
who plays me for an invalid will be a good
one, I tell you. It’s all right up to where Randy
left me in the arms of luxury at the Tyson residence.
Yes, it was all right for two days after
that. Then I got into my usual trim—restless.
Of course I couldn’t work with my bad arm, but
it didn’t bother me a bit. I told Mr. Tyson so.
He spoke to that old fogy surgeon of his and
after a regular battle we came to terms.”
</p>
<p>
“What terms, Pep?” inquired Frank.
</p>
<p>
“I wanted something to do. I was dead sick
of hanging around doing nothing. It seems that
Mr. Tyson runs a broker’s office in Brenton. It’s
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span>
a branch of a big Wall Street concern in New
York City. They do some business, too, and he
hires a lot of clerks. Well, the surgeon said that
as long as I didn’t use my bad arm it was all
right, so old Tyson takes me down to the office.
First day he put me at the information desk.
Then the boy who held that position regularly
came back and he set me at one of the telephones.”
</p>
<p>
“What doing, Pep?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Taking quotations and orders on the long distance.
The ’phone was arranged on a standard
and I didn’t have to handle it at all. I had a pad
of paper at my side. All I had to do was to write
out the quotations, or orders. Then I would
touch an electric bell and a boy would take them
to the manager.”
</p>
<p>
“Sort of stock exchange business; eh?” propounded
Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, that way,” assented Pep. “The first
day I got through grandly. Old Tyson told me I
had the making of a smart man in me and advised
me to cut away from the movies and become a
second Vanderbilt. They kept me at the ’phone
yesterday, too. It’s too bad they did,” added
Pep grievously. “I reckon they think so now.”
</p>
<p>
“Explain, Pep,” urged the curious Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Well, about two o’clock in the afternoon there
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span>
was a rush of business. Everybody in the office
was busy. I heard the manager say that it looked
like a regular Black Friday, whatever that was,
the way stocks and bonds were being juggled.
Right when everything was going at lightning
speed and the office was in a turmoil, long distance
says: ‘Buy for Vandamann account at
twenty’—and then there was a hiss and a jangle—crossed
wires—see?”
</p>
<p>
Pep’s engrossed auditors nodded silently, eager
to hear the remainder of his story.
</p>
<p>
“Then I got the balance of the order—as I
supposed—‘one thousand shares Keystone Central.’
Orders came piling up and I had all I
could do to write them down. ‘Buy one thousand
Keystone Central at twenty’ went to the
manager with the rest. I thought no more of it
until this morning. I was at my ’phone thinking
of how I’d be home with the rest of you Saturday,
when the manager, mad as a hornet, came to
me. ‘You see Mr. Tyson just as quick as you
can,’ he snapped at me, and I did. Mr. Tyson
had just found out that I had mixed orders. I
talked about crossed wire, but he wouldn’t hear
a word of it. ‘The idea of loading us down with
that bustling stock at twenty, when it was offered
on the exchange at three cents yesterday!’ he
howled. ‘Here get out of here and stay out of
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span>
here. And here, you’ve cost a pretty penny, and
you can take that stock for your pay.’ And with
that,” concluded Pep, “he hurled this package at
me, and I’m a bloated bondholder.”
</p>
<p>
Pep drew a little package of green and yellow
documents from his pocket. He flung them on
the table in a disgruntled way. Ben Jolly picked
them up and looked them over.
</p>
<p>
“Heard of the Keystone Central,” he observed—“lot
of watered stock and new people
trying to squeeze out the old shareholders.
Maybe a few dollars in these, Pep.”
</p>
<p>
But the disgusted Pep waved documents and
remark away with disdain.
</p>
<p>
“Burn ’em up; throw ’em away—don’t care
what you do with them,” he declared. “I am
sick of the whole business. I want to forget how
mean money makes a millionaire, and just get
back into the gladness and bustle of the old motion
picture proposition.”
</p>
<p>
“All right, Pep,” said Jolly blandly, pocketing
the papers. “I’ll just take care of the documents
for you. They may bob up in a new way
some time; you never can tell.”
</p>
<p>
“What about moving the outfit down from
Fairlands, Mr. Jolly?” here interrupted Frank.
</p>
<p>
“That’s so—my report is due; isn’t it? Why,
I’ve arranged for everything. Boxed up and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span>
crated what there was in good shape, and expect
they’ll arrive to-morrow or the next day.”
</p>
<p>
“By rail, of course?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, yes. It’s a long distance, there’s a lot
of bad roads and hills to climb, and freight was
the only way. I left the chairs. It would cost
as much to move them as they were worth.”
</p>
<p>
“We had better stock up new as to the seating
feature,” said Frank, “seeing that we need
double what we had at Fairlands. Well, boys,
now to show you what I have accomplished.”
</p>
<p>
Frank had done so much that he held their
fascinated attention unbroken for well nigh an
hour. Jolly smiled and nodded his approval as
Frank told in detail of his negotiations with the
supply houses in the city. Pep’s eyes snapped
with anticipation of the brilliant way in which the
new Wonderland was going to open.
</p>
<p>
“It looks all smooth sailing; doesn’t it now?”
Randy submitted in his optimistic way.
</p>
<p>
“How soon will we open?” pressed the eager
Pep.
</p>
<p>
“I should think we would be all ready within
a week or ten days.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, pshaw! have to wait that long?”
mourned Pep.
</p>
<p>
“You want things right; don’t you?” asked
Randy.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>
</p>
<p>
“Oh, of course, of course,” responded Pep,
“only every day counts. Before we know it
someone else will break in and get all the cream
off the proposition.”
</p>
<p>
“No, no, friend Pep,” laughed Ben Jolly confidently.
“We’ve got too good a start in the
movies race at Seaside Park, and we’re bound to
win.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—BUSINESS RIVALS</h2>
<p>
“Put the brake on, Pep!” sang out Randy.
</p>
<p>
“What’s the trouble now?” inquired Ben
Jolly. “Someone trying to kidnap you again?”
</p>
<p>
Frank, Randy and Jolly, on their way to see
about their goods at the freight house, had scattered
precipitately as a bounding figure turned a
street corner and almost crashed into them.
</p>
<p>
“Glad I found you. Say, what did I tell
you?” exclaimed the youthful sprinter. “You
come with me and I’ll show you something that
will open your eyes.”
</p>
<p>
“Later, Pep,” said Frank. “We are on our
way to arrange for carting the traps from Fairlands
up to the playhouse.”
</p>
<p>
“It won’t take a minute,” declared Pep. “It’s
only a block or two away. Say, you’d better
come. I’ll show you a sight that will set you
thinking.”
</p>
<p>
“All right, we’ll give you five minutes, Pep,”
said Frank indulgently.
</p>
<p>
“And don’t forget that I told you so!”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span>
</p>
<p>
“Told us what?” interrogated Randy.
</p>
<p>
“You’ll find out in a minute.”
</p>
<p>
Pep piloted the group in his usual impetuous
way. Quite a busy boardwalk diverged from the
main boardwalk thoroughfare, and some minor
stores and restaurants of the cheaper class occupied
the first block.
</p>
<p>
About midway of the square was a vacant
building, once a dime museum. Frank and his
friends had noticed this in their search for a
business location. It was off the main route of
travel, however, and the building was old, ramshackly
and set down from the street level, the
lot lying in a depression in the ground so that
one had to descend three steps to the entrance.
</p>
<p>
“There you are,” pronounced Pep in an impressive
way. “What do you say to it?”
</p>
<p>
Frank, Randy and Ben Jolly came to a halt
as they faced an electric sign running out from
the front of the building.
</p>
<p>
“‘National,’” read Randy—“‘National’
what?”
</p>
<p>
“Photo playhouse,” asserted Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Do you know that?” challenged Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“I do. When I passed by a man who was
wiring the sign told me that a big New York fellow
and a Seaside Park party were going to open
up next week.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span>
</p>
<p>
“The mischief!” exclaimed Randy, roused up.
</p>
<p>
“Say,” remarked Jolly, bristling up at this
hint of rivalry, “we want to get busy.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, it doesn’t alarm me,” spoke Frank. “In
the first place it is off the mainly traveled route.
Besides, the neighborhood is cheap and I would
imagine they wouldn’t get more than a nickel.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s worth looking up—always keep track of
what your competitors are doing,” advised Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Why I say,” suddenly remarked Frank—“their
sign is wrong.”
</p>
<p>
“How wrong?” questioned Randy, and then
he added: “That’s so: ‘NATONAL.’ They’ve
left out an I.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s so,” cried Pep, “maybe they bought some
second hand letters and there wasn’t any I’s in
the lot.”
</p>
<p>
“‘Big New York fellow,’” observed Jolly
thoughtfully. “Wonder who he is? Maybe
you stirred things up in the city, Durham, and
started somebody on our trail.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, we must expect competition,” replied
Frank. “It shan’t scare us.”
</p>
<p>
“No, we’ll stick to a first-class basis and be the
leader,” declared Randy.
</p>
<p>
“You fellows go on,” spoke Pep. “I’ll sort
of spy out the enemy’s country—hey?”
</p>
<p>
“I would like to know who is behind this
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span>
‘National’ with an I missing,” said Frank, and
they turned about and resumed their way to the
freight depot, leaving Pep to his own devices.
</p>
<p>
Pep was not afraid to venture anywhere or address
anybody. He was inside the old building
and had accosted the man he had seen outside
within five minutes after his friends left him.
The man knew all about the proposed extensive
refitting of the old barn of a place, but did not
know who was backing the new show outside of
a big man from New York and a party with
money at Seaside Park. Pep pumped him dry
so far as the arrangements for the show were
concerned.
</p>
<p>
“Hello, Pep,” hailed him just as he went outside
again.
</p>
<p>
“That isn’t my name—it’s Pepperill,” retorted
Pep, resenting the mistake and the familiarity.
He was in a fiery mood just now, but as he recognized
young Peter Carrington and noticed that
he was headed for the building he had just left,
Pep decided that he would lose nothing by using
a little tact.
</p>
<p>
“Well, that’s all right,” observed Peter in his
usual airy manner—“been into my show?”
</p>
<p>
“Your show?”
</p>
<p>
“That’s what,” and Peter poked his cap back
on his head, stuck his thumbs in his armpits, and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span>
grinned at Pep in a patronizing sort of way.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I see,” said Pep, “you’re the Seaside
Park capitalist I heard about?”
</p>
<p>
“Did some one honest say that?” inquired
Peter, his vanity immensely gratified. “Well,
I have invested something—got a little money
from my aunt, although she doesn’t know that
I’ve gone into the show business. She’d be mad
if she knew I was going to set up opposition to
you fellows, for she likes you. Business is business,
though. You fellows wouldn’t take me in
and I had to get some other partners; didn’t I?”
</p>
<p>
“Who are your partners?” probed Pep innocently.
</p>
<p>
“Well, one of them is Greg Grayson. He’s
from your town. You know him?”
</p>
<p>
“Slightly,” assented Pep, his lips drawing together
grimly.
</p>
<p>
“A friend of his has invested something, too,”
rambled on the effusive Peter. “Our mainstay,
though, is a New York man. They say he’s ’way
up in the moving picture line.”
</p>
<p>
“What is his name?” pressed Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Mr. John Beavers—ever hear of him?”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t think I have.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s because you’re new in the business,”
declared Peter. “He says he’s the first man who
ever started a moving picture show.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span>
</p>
<p>
“Also a capitalist, I suppose?” insinuated Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Well, he’s got a lot of investments that have
tied up his ready cash, he says, but he will stand
back of us if we need more money.”
</p>
<p>
“Well,” said Pep, “I must be moving on.
The more the merrier, you know.”
</p>
<p>
“I must tell you,” hurried on Peter—“We’re
going to have two private boxes in our show.”
</p>
<p>
“What for?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, to make a hit. Friends, members of the
press and all that—see? I say, Smith, I hope
you’re going to exchange professional courtesies.”
</p>
<p>
“What do you mean?” demanded Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Complimentaries, and all that.”
</p>
<p>
“I don’t think we are going to have any complimentaries,”
replied Pep. “Our space will be
for sale; not to give away. That fellow run a
photo playhouse!” snorted Pep wrath fully to
himself, as he left the spot. “Why, he hasn’t
got the gumption to run a peddler’s cart, or a
shoestring stand!”
</p>
<p>
Pep reached the freight house just as his
friends were leaving it. They had arranged for
the reception and delivery of their traps from
Fairlands to the new playhouse. This meant busy
times, getting in order to open up for business.
Pep told of his new discoveries as to the personnel
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>
of the rival firm of the “Natonal.” Randy
flared up at once.
</p>
<p>
“It’s half spite work,” he declared. “This
Peter is mad because we wouldn’t take him into
our scheme and Greg Grayson owes us a grudge,
or fancies he does, and wants to pay it back. He
and his cronies were always ready for any mean
mischief back at Fairlands.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, well, as long as it is fair business rivalry,
who cares?” submitted Jolly. “From the
start they’ve made I don’t think they will last
long.”
</p>
<p>
“They will do all they can to annoy us while
they do,” declared Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Did you tell young Carrington about the
missing letter in the ‘Natonal’ sign, Pep?” inquired
Frank.
</p>
<p>
“No, I didn’t,” replied Pep, ungraciously.
“Think I’m around mending his blunders?
Humph! guess not. If I had, do you know what
he would have said?”
</p>
<p>
“No; what, Pep?” pressed Randy, with a
broad grin.
</p>
<p>
“He’d say: ‘Oh, yes, that’s so. Anybody
can see it’s spelled wrong. Didn’t notice it before.
Of course it should be “Natonel.”’”
</p>
<p>
All hands laughed at Pep’s sally. Then Frank
asked:
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span>
</p>
<p>
“Did you ever hear of this John Beavers, Mr.
Jolly?”
</p>
<p>
“Never did, Durham. I wonder where the
crowd picked him up? Don’t think he’s a notable,
though. Judging from the way he’s letting
them hold the bag, I reckon he isn’t much of a
capitalist.”
</p>
<p>
They emerged upon the boardwalk as Jolly
concluded his remarks. Pep was the first to
discover a commotion amid the crowds ahead.
</p>
<p>
“There’s some new excitement,” he cried.
“Let’s hurry up and see what it is.”
</p>
<p>
Just then a man dashed through the throng
on a dead run. In hot pursuit was a second individual,
fast overtaking him and shouting as he
sprinted:
</p>
<p>
“Stop that man!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—ALL READY!</h2>
<p>
The man in advance happened to cross a wet
streak on the walk just as Frank and his friends
observed him. This was caused by the overflow
of a combination drinking fountain and horse
trough. The man slipped and went flat. In another
minute, as he struggled to his feet, his pursuer
pounced upon him.
</p>
<p>
“Why, look! Look!” ejaculated Pep.
</p>
<p>
“It’s Hal!” echoed Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
Frank and Randy recognized their friend the
ventriloquist simultaneously. The former was a
good deal surprised, for he had bade Vincent
good-bye in New York City within the past
forty-eight hours. He wondered what had
brought Vincent to Seaside Park; and more than
ever, what his participation in the present incident
might mean.
</p>
<p>
“I’ve got you; have I?” stormed Vincent,
making a grab at the fugitive and seizing him by
the arm. Then he whirled him around and transferred
his clutch to the throat of the man.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span>
“Now, then, you pull off that coat in a jiffy, or
I’ll fling you out into the street.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, yes, certainly—ssh! don’t raise a row.
Likely to be known here. Going into business—hurt
my reputation.”
</p>
<p>
“Your reputation, you miserable rat!”
shouted Vincent, greatly excited. “You’ve led
me a fine chase; haven’t you, after all I did for
you! I made up my mind, though, I’d find you
and get back my property, if I had to chase you
half over the country.”
</p>
<p>
“Return coat in private—secluded spot.”
</p>
<p>
“Take it off now!”
</p>
<p>
“Leaves me without any.”
</p>
<p>
“Take it off!” fairly yelled Vincent. Then,
as the man obeyed he wrenched it from his grasp,
threw it to the pavement and grasping the fugitive
by the shoulders, ran him straight up to the
watering trough.
</p>
<p>
Splash! splash! splash! “Ooo—oof! Leggo!
Murder!”—a wild riot of sounds made the welkin
ring. A fast-gathering mob bustled nearer.
Dripping, hatless, coatless, the helpless fugitive
was given a shove down the sidewalk by Vincent,
who turned and confronted a police officer.
</p>
<p>
“Hi, there!” challenged the latter sternly—“what’s
the trouble here?”
</p>
<p>
“No trouble at all,” retorted Vincent. “I’ve
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span>
saved you that. That fellow slinking out of
sight between those two buildings stole my coat
and I’ve got it back—that’s all.”
</p>
<p>
“A thief; eh?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, he’s out of sight and I’m satisfied,” advised
Vincent. “I gave him free lodging and
feed in the city and he paid me back by robbing
me. We’re square now and no need of your
services, thank you. By the way, though, you
might glimpse him so as to be able to keep track
of him. He’s a slippery customer to have in a
town where there’s even door mats or lawn
mowers lying around loose.”
</p>
<p>
Frank had picked up the coat from the pavement
where Vincent had flung it and he now
offered it to him.
</p>
<p>
“That you, Durham?” hailed the ventriloquist,
mopping his perspiring brow—“and the
rest of the crowd? Howdy—I declare, I was
ruffled. I can stand anything but ingratitude.”
</p>
<p>
“Who is the fellow, anyway?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, he’s been a hanger-on at the movies and
a sponge and dead beat for a long time. His
name is Jack Beavers.”
</p>
<p>
“What’s that?” cried Pep, sharply. “Why,
that’s the name of the ‘big New York man’
who is going to start the new show with Peter
Carrington and his crowd.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span>
</p>
<p>
“What new show?” inquired Vincent, quickly.
</p>
<p>
Pep told of the prospective photo playhouse
that had come to their attention that day.
</p>
<p>
“Say,” exclaimed Vincent, belligerently, when
the information had been accorded. “I’ll follow
this up and put that fellow out of business.”
</p>
<p>
“I wouldn’t trouble, Mr. Vincent,” said Frank.
“We don’t want to give Carrington and his
friends any excuse for claiming we are persecuting
them. If this man is the kind of fellow
you describe, he will soon run himself out.”
</p>
<p>
“And them, too,” declared Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Birds of a feather—all of them,” commented
Pep.
</p>
<p>
Vincent explained that he was due to return at
once to the city. He expected to have his claim
against the company that had stranded him and
owed him money come up in court at any time,
and wanted to be on hand to present his evidence.
The boys, however, prevailed upon him to accompany
them home and have at least one good, old-fashioned
meal with them. Then they all went
with him to his train.
</p>
<p>
“Hope to see you soon again, Hal,” remarked
Ben Jolly, as they shook hands good-bye.
</p>
<p>
“You will, Jolly—it’s fate,” declared Vincent.
“I’m running up against your crowd all the time,
and I guess it’s on the books. Bow-wow-wow!”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>
and he winked at Pep, always alive for mischief.
</p>
<p>
“Meow!—p’st! pst!”—and a kitten in the
arms of a fussy old man just getting aboard of
a coach arched its back at the well-counterfeited
imitation of the ventriloquist, while its mistress
ran up the steps in a violent flurry.
</p>
<p>
“Let me out—let me out!” came next, apparently
from a big sample case a colored porter
was carrying for a traveling salesman. Down
came the case with a slam and the porter stood
regarding it with distended eyes and quivering
face.
</p>
<p>
“Lawsy sakes, boss!” he gurgled—“what you
done got in dere?” and very gingerly and rapidly
he carried the case into the coach when prevailed
upon to do so by its somewhat startled
owner.
</p>
<p>
Then with a smile the versatile Vincent jumped
aboard of the train, waving his hand cheerily in
adieu to his smiling friends.
</p>
<p>
“A jolly good fellow, that,” commented
Frank, as the train pulled out. “I only hope we
will be able to afford to engage his talents for the
new Wonderland.”
</p>
<p>
“You’ve just got to,” vociferated Pep. “He’s
a regular drawing card and a show all in himself.”
</p>
<p>
And now came the real work of the motion
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>
picture chums. The new photo playhouse was all
ready for the outfit, and when that was brought
from the freight house there was plenty of lifting,
carrying and placing to attend to. The big
electric sign had to be reset and adjusted, the
sheet iron booth for the machine put in place,
and for four days there were a multitude of little
things to accomplish.
</p>
<p>
Jolly got track of a closed show at Brenton
where the chairs were for sale and drove an excellent
bargain in their purchase, and also in the
delivery.
</p>
<p>
It was Thursday night when for the first time
the electric lights were turned on, so the boys
could see how the playhouse “showed up,” as
they expressed it. They all went out in front,
Jolly turning the switches from inside. To the
excited vision of the enthusiastic Pep the result
was a burst of glory. The sign came out boldly.
The many windows of the building, standing
alone by itself as it did, made Randy think of a
palace.
</p>
<p>
Frank was more than pleased. He was proud
of his playhouse, proud of his loyal friends and
deeply gratified as a crowd began to gather and
he overheard their flattering and encouraging
comments.
</p>
<p>
“Why, I saw that blaze three blocks down the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span>
street,” declared a breathless urchin, coming up
on a run.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, it was so bright I thought it was a fire,”
echoed a companion.
</p>
<p>
It was arranged that the three chums should
visit their home town next morning. Jolly was
left in charge of the playhouse and told them to
have a good time and throw all care from their
minds, as he would be able to complete all the
arrangements for the opening Monday night.
</p>
<p>
The boys had a splendid time at Fairlands.
They were highly elated over their business progress
in the new venture and infused their families
and friends with their own enthusiasm and delight.
The Fairlands weekly paper printed a nice
article about “Three Rising Young Business
Men of Our Town,” and altogether as they
took the train to return to Seaside Park each
one of the trio felt that life was worth living
and honorable business success a boon well worth
striving for.
</p>
<p>
“And now for the grandest event of our
life,” announced Pep, buoyantly—“the Opening
Night!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—“THE GREAT UNKNOWN”</h2>
<p>
Pep Smith was up before the birds that memorable
opening day. Pep had gone through a like
experience when the Wonderland motion picture
show was started at his home town, but that was
a small proposition compared to the present one.
To Pep’s way of thinking the world was waiting
for the great event. In his active mind he pictured
eager hundreds counting the slow hours of
the day until the first films were flashed upon the
screen of the new photo playhouse.
</p>
<p>
Pep bustled about, broke into whistling and
stirred things up so generally that he finally woke
Ben Jolly. The latter was quite as interested as
Pep in the doings of the day, only he concealed
the true state of his feelings. He set about making
preparations for breakfast as an excuse for
rousing Frank and Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Well, Pep, this is the big day of our lives;
eh?” propounded the good-natured cook, while
his accommodating assistant was setting the table.
</p>
<p>
“And the finest ever seen,” replied Pep. “I
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span>
never saw such a daybreak. It’s going to be just
warm enough to make people want to stay out
for the evening breeze, and that means crowds
passing our place until late.”
</p>
<p>
It was a jolly quartette that sat down at the
table about five o’clock. The rest over Sunday
had done them all good. No details had been left
to chance or haste. Much satisfaction was felt
in the knowledge that all the work thus far had
been done well, with no loose ends to bother
about when the programme began.
</p>
<p>
“There’s some song posters to put up—they
are due in the morning mail,” observed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and if that new film winder is sent along
we might install it in place of the old one we
brought from Fairlands,” suggested Jolly. “I
suppose you want to go through a test before
night, Durham?”
</p>
<p>
“So as to give you the music cues? I think
we had better,” assented Frank. “Besides, we
had better see that the films run smooth.”
</p>
<p>
“I sent for a piano-tuning key to the city Saturday,”
said Jolly. “As soon as I get it I will
give the instrument a little overhauling. Jolting
over one hundred miles in a freight car doesn’t
improve the tone any.”
</p>
<p>
Randy and Pep went out together about ten
o’clock to get some posters from the printers.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>
Frank had brought from the city quite a lot of
gaily colored sheets with a blank space left at
the top. Here the name and location of the new
playhouse had been inserted. It took the boys
until noon to get these placed. They posted them
in nearly all the stores along the boardwalk. The
hotel they had stayed at let them put two in
the lobby, and they covered the town in a way
satisfactory to themselves.
</p>
<p>
“Wonder what the National people are thinking
of doing?” submitted Randy, as they sat
down to dinner.
</p>
<p>
“They are going to open to-night—that’s one
thing I know,” reported Pep.
</p>
<p>
“They’re not making much stir about it, then,”
observed Jolly. “I haven’t heard anybody speak
about it, whom I ran across to-day.”
</p>
<p>
“I met the man who is doing their electrical
work,” said Pep. “He and I are quite chummy.
He told me they were in a fearful mix-up, with
things half provided for, but that they would
surely open this evening.”
</p>
<p>
“What’s it to be—a nickel?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“No a dime, he says; but he showed me a
bunch of complimentaries and laughed and said
he’d sell them cheap. I haven’t set my eyes on
that Peter and the fellow from Fairlands anywhere
around town, but I guess they’re pitching
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span>
in with the workman to get things in order.”
</p>
<p>
Wednesday of the week previous a neat postal
card telling of the new photo playhouse had been
sent out to every name in the little local directory
of Seaside Park. The hotel men had taken a
bunch of these and had agreed to put one in the
mail of each guest. The local paper happened
to be an exchange of the Fairlands weekly, and
the editor of the latter had given Frank a letter
of introduction to the Seaside Park publisher.
As a result, the latter had copied the article about
the chums from the home paper and had also
given a glowing description of the new playhouse
on the beach.
</p>
<p>
It was about two o’clock in the afternoon when
the lively Pep came into the playhouse with a new
excitement on his mind.
</p>
<p>
“Say, fellows,” he announced, “we’re clear
beat out.”
</p>
<p>
“Hi! what’s up now?” asked Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“The National without an I has got us going.
Just met Peter Carrington. He’s jumping
around like a chicken on a hot griddle. Just had
time to flash by me and crow out, ‘Watch out
for our grand free concert to-night.’”
</p>
<p>
“Is that so—hum!” observed Jolly, musingly.
“I wish I’d thought of that. I suppose we ought
to make some little noise the opening night. Too
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span>
late to arrange for it now, though. Just in time
for practice, Pep. Put on that best coat of yours
and a flower in your buttonhole, and usher in
imaginary thousands, while Powell piles up uncounted
dimes in the ticket office and Durham
shoots the films. Ready—go!” and with a crash
of the piano keys the volatile fellow began a
lively overture.
</p>
<p>
“A small but critical audience pronounced the
rehearsal A.1.,” declared Jolly with a thrilling
sweep of the piano keys as the three films were
reeled off from the operator’s booth. “Slow on
that last picture, though, Durham. It’s a good
one and any audience will be glad to see it prolonged.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, being an ocean scene, I should think ‘A
Wrecker’s Romance’ would take great with the
smell of real salt water blowing right into the
playhouse,” submitted Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Where the old wrecker hails the ship in the
fog I want to work in some slow, solemn music,”
proceeded Jolly. “Eh? What’s that? Mr. Jolly?
That’s me. What is it, lad?”
</p>
<p>
A messenger boy from the hotel had appeared
at the entrance to the playhouse and asked for
Mr. Benjamin Jolly. He delivered a note to that
individual. The latter read it, his face breaking
into a delighted smile.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span>
</p>
<p>
“Say, my friends,” he announced, seizing his
hat and rushing unceremoniously from their company,
“rush call, important though unexpected.
Back soon,” and Jolly chuckled and waved his
hand gaily.
</p>
<p>
He was all smiles and still chuckling when he
returned, which was in about an hour. They had
decided on an early supper so as to have plenty
of leisure to look over things before the playhouse
opened, at half past six o’clock. As a
starter, they planned to give three entertainments,
each beginning on the hour.
</p>
<p>
“You seem to feel pretty good, Mr. Jolly?”
observed Randy, as they dispatched the appetizing
meal, their helpful friend brimming over
with comical sayings.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I’ve got to live up to my name, you
know,” explained Jolly. “Besides, always
dreaming, you see. Been dreaming this afternoon
of big houses, delighted throngs, pleasant
surprises,” and the speaker emphasized the last
word, looking mysterious the while.
</p>
<p>
Frank and Randy, full of the theme of the
hour and its practical demands upon their abilities,
did not notice this particularly. Pep, however,
eyed Jolly keenly. He lingered as his chums
got up from the table. Somehow the exaggerated
jollity of their lively pianist, to Pep’s way
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span>
of thinking, was connected with the mysterious
message he had received earlier in the afternoon.
Pep was an unusually observant lad. He was furthermore
given to indulging a very lively fancy.
</p>
<p>
Now he went up to Jolly. Very searchingly
he fixed his eye upon the piano player. Very
solemnly he picked up one of Jolly’s hands and
looked up the arm of his coat.
</p>
<p>
“Hello!” challenged Jolly—“what you up to
now, you young skeesicks?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, nothing,” retorted Pep—“just thought
I’d like to see what you’ve got up your sleeve, as
the saying goes.”
</p>
<p>
“Ah,” smiled Jolly—“suspect something; do
you?”
</p>
<p>
“Got a right to; haven’t I?” questioned Pep,
shrewdly.
</p>
<p>
“Well,” retorted Jolly, slowly, stroking his
chin in a reflective way, “I won’t say—just now.
I’ll give you a tip, though, Pep.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes?” cried Pep, expectantly.
</p>
<p>
“About six-thirty look out for something.”
</p>
<p>
“What will it be, now?” projected Pep,
eagerly.
</p>
<p>
“The Great Unknown,” replied Ben Jolly,
with an enigmatical smile.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—THE SPEAKING PICTURE</h2>
<p>
Pep was “on pins and needles” over the mysterious
remark of Ben Jolly as to “The Great
Unknown.” His friend was good natured about
the matter, but parried all further questions.
Then all hands at the new Wonderland became
absorbed in their respective duties as partners and
helpers in making the opening night of their venture
a pronounced success.
</p>
<p>
Randy could not resist the temptation of taking
a run past the National. He came back with
his face on a broad grin.
</p>
<p>
“Well, Randy?” spoke Frank, expectantly.
</p>
<p>
“Carrington and his crowd are all business,”
was the report. “I could see Greg and another
bustling about inside. Everything looks make-shift,
though, as if they had rushed things and
weren’t more than half ready to begin. They
were setting bare boards on top of kegs to answer
for seats, and they had mended one of their
broken front windows with a piece of canvas.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span>
</p>
<p>
“Did you see anything of the famous band we
heard about?” inquired Frank.
</p>
<p>
“No, but at one side of the steps that lead into
the National there was a little platform with
four chairs on it.”
</p>
<p>
“I think that is their stand for the free concert
Peter Carrington was bragging about,” remarked
Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Four, did you say?” queried Pep, quickly.
“Why, say, I’ll bet I know.”
</p>
<p>
“Know what, Pep?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“About their band. Bet you it’s those four
fellows who wander around calling themselves
the Little German Band. They play for lunches,
or take up a collection from the crowd, most any
way to pick up a few pennies. And, oh, such
music! I heard them down at the merry-go-round
yesterday.”
</p>
<p>
“And that isn’t all,” added Randy. “Somewhere
they have bought an old transparency.
Strung it clear across the front of the building.
It reads in big red letters, ‘Grand Opening.’
That’s all right at a distance, but as you get
nearer up to it you can see where the color has
faded where they tried to paint out a smaller
line. ‘Free Lunch All Day’ was the line I made
out plain as could be. You can imagine where
it came from.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span>
</p>
<p>
Pep kept his watch in his hand and his eyes
fixed upon it most of the time for the next half-hour.
He almost counted the seconds in his impatience
to see operations begin. He strolled
restlessly between the living room where his
friends sat conversing, to the front of the place,
peering out of the windows and reporting progress
at each trip:
</p>
<p>
“Lot of people looking over the place.
</p>
<p>
“Quite a crowd strolling by as if hanging
around just waiting to get into the show.
</p>
<p>
“Dozen children in line waiting to buy tickets.
</p>
<p>
“Looks to me as if the people are heading
from the beach in this direction. Hope we’ll be
able to handle the crowds.
</p>
<p>
“Say, Frank, it’s twenty minutes after six.”
</p>
<p>
“The crowds will keep, Pep,” said Frank with
a smile. “We’ve got to follow up a system, you
know.”
</p>
<p>
“For mercy’s sake, what is that!” shouted
Randy, suddenly.
</p>
<p>
There had swept in through the open windows
upon the evening breeze a strange—a startling—series
of sounds: “Ump! Ump!” “Bla-aat bla-aat,”
“Flar-op, flar-op,” “Tootle-tootle”—a dismal
melody filled the room, half notes, a mixture
of notes, some of sledge hammer force, some
weak and squeaking.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>
</p>
<p>
“Oh, hold me!” cried Randy, going into convulsions
of laughter—“it’s that Little German
Band.”
</p>
<p>
This seemed true, for they could trace the
source of the music after a moment or two. They
proceeded from the neighborhood of their business
rival. How they might sound directly at
their source it was difficult to surmise. Arising
from the hollow in which the National was located,
they lacked all acoustic qualities, like a
band playing into a funnel.
</p>
<p>
“Twenty-seven minutes and a half after six,”
declared Pep abruptly.
</p>
<p>
“All right,” nodded Jolly, arising from his
seat. “It’s not dark yet, but I suppose we will
have to shoot on the lights.”
</p>
<p>
The quartette started from the rear room in
company, but Pep was making for the front
entrance as soon as Jolly moved towards the
piano. He came to a dead halt with a blank face
as there sounded out, directly in front of the
place, a sharp, clear bugle call.
</p>
<p>
“Ahem!” observed Ben Jolly, with significant
emphasis.
</p>
<p>
Frank and Randy stood stock still. They were
both surprised and entranced, for after that rollicking
bugle call there rang out a sweet home
melody. Whoever was creating those gentle yet
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span>
clear and expressive notes was a master of the
cornet. The hour, the scene were in harmony
with the liquid notes that gushed forth like golden
beads dropped into a crystal dish.
</p>
<p>
The wondering Pep, as if in a spell, moved
noiselessly down the aisle and looked out through
a window. Standing at the extreme inner edge
of the walk was the cornetist. He wore a neat
military costume. His close bearded face made
Pep think of photographs he had seen of the
leader of a noted military band. From every
direction the crowds were gathering. They
blocked the walk and the beach beyond it. A
hush showed the appreciation of this enchanted
audience until the tune was finished. Then the
air was filled with acclamations.
</p>
<p>
“Friend of mine—it’s all right. Thought I’d
sort of offset that brass band down at the National,”
sang out Ben Jolly at the piano, and Pep
now knew what his reticent friend had “up his
sleeve.” “All ready—here she goes!”
</p>
<p>
A chorus of “Ah’s!” and “Oh’s!” swelled
forth as the electric sign and then the whole front
of Wonderland burst into a glow of electric radiance.
Frank was into the sheet iron booth in a
jiffy. Jolly sat prim and precise at the piano.
Randy was in place in the little ticket office just
as Pep threw open the front doors.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span>
</p>
<p>
Pep tried to look and act dignified, and did
very well, but he felt so elated as the crowd
poured in that he was all smiles and made everybody
feel at ease instead of awed. Wonderland
could not have opened at a more favorable moment.
A better advertisement than the cornet
solo could not have been devised. The crowd
attracted by the music lingered, and most of them
decided to take in the show.
</p>
<p>
Nearly every seat in the house was taken as
Jolly began the overture. As the electric bell announced
the darkening of the room Pep had to
hunt for vacant chairs.
</p>
<p>
Pep was particularly attentive to the cornetist,
who entered the playhouse after giving a second
tune on his instrument.
</p>
<p>
“Near the front, please,” he said to Pep, and
he seemed satisfied as the young usher found him
a chair in the front row next to the curtain.
</p>
<p>
The first film was full of fun and laughter.
The second was an airship specialty and went off
very well. The feature film of the series was
“A Wrecker’s Romance.” It had just enough
sea flavor to catch with the audience. There was
a schooner caught in a storm that was lost in the
gathering fog after sending up a rocket as a signal
of distress.
</p>
<p>
The next scene showed the wrecker on the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span>
rainswept beach staring into the depths for some
sign from the belated ship. It was here that Ben
Jolly adapted the slow, striking music to the
progress of the story.
</p>
<p>
Suddenly the lone figure on the beach lifted his
hands to his lips, formed into a human speaking
trumpet.
</p>
<p>
The audience, rapt with the intensity of the
incident, were breathlessly engrossed. They
could anticipate his forlorn call amid that desolate
scene.
</p>
<p>
And then something remarkable happened.
Apparently from those moving lips, distant but
clear—resonant and long-drawn-out—thrilling
every soul in the audience with its naturalness
and intensity, there sounded the words:
</p>
<p>
“Ship ahoy!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—A GRAND SUCCESS</h2>
<p>
A deep hush pervaded the audience. The people
were spellbound. Even Pep, standing against
the side wall, felt a thrill pass through him. So
natural and fitting had been the climax of the picture
that its effect was apparent in a general rustling—a
deep breath that swayed the onlookers.
</p>
<p>
The wrecker turned and his lips again moved
as if to form for a signal whistle. Shrilly the
call wavered about the scene.
</p>
<p>
“A talking picture!” Pep heard someone
whisper.
</p>
<p>
“It’s great!” echoed another voice.
</p>
<p>
A magnificent Newfoundland dog came bounding
down the beach. Its young master held a
coil of rope in his hand. He seemed swayed by
conflicting emotions. Then he appeared to arrive
at a conclusion.
</p>
<p>
He would not see that noble ship go to pieces
on the rocks! He secured one end of the rope
to the collar of the animal and made signs. The
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span>
intelligent dog lifted his head. A joyous, willing
bark rang out. It was real—like the call—like
the whistle.
</p>
<p>
“Ginger!” exclaimed Pep Smith, in a stupefied
way.
</p>
<p>
The dog disappeared. Then a dim light
showed far out at sea and there sounded out the
distant echo of the foghorn of a steamer. It was
so familiar to the audience, so natural, that more
than one among them probably lost himself and
almost fancied he was standing on that lonely
storm-lashed beach with the wrecker.
</p>
<p>
The film ran its course—the rope was carried
by the faithful dog to the imperiled ship. A
safety line was sent ashore. Passengers and crew
were all saved and among them a beautiful young
girl.
</p>
<p>
The last picture showed a lovely garden—the
grounds of the home of the father of the rescued
girl. She was reading a book in a vernal bower.
The wrecker, her lover, appeared. Birds swayed
among the blossoming branches of the trees. He
spoke—she listened. Then, arm in arm, they
walked slowly from the garden to the accompaniment
of soft bird notes that filled the whole house
with the most ravishing melody.
</p>
<p>
The lights came on amid furious and genuine
applause. A delighted and excited old man
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>
jumped up on his chair and waved his hat, shouting:
</p>
<p>
“Three cheers for the best show on earth!”
</p>
<p>
“That was just famous.”
</p>
<p>
“Must be one of those new speaking pictures.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, we must get all the folks to come to this
delightful show!”
</p>
<p>
Pep’s heart beat proudly as the audience filed
out and he overheard this encouraging praise.
He could hardly contain himself. Then he noticed
Ben Jolly beckoning to him and he glided
over to the piano. Jolly’s face was one broad,
delighted smile.
</p>
<p>
“How was it, Pep?” he inquired.
</p>
<p>
“No, <em>what</em> was it!” corrected Pep in a fluster,
and then he noticed that the cornetist had remained
seated—and he guessed something.
</p>
<p>
“Him?” he questioned.
</p>
<p>
“Correct!” replied Jolly. “Give Durham the
tip. It’s Hal Vincent. Durham must have noticed
the brilliant accompaniment to the films and
I don’t want to get him rattled wondering what’s
up.”
</p>
<p>
Pep had some difficulty in getting to the operator’s
booth. A long line of people were in place
at the doors and they came in with a rush as the
room was emptied. Pep tapped and Frank told
him to come in.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span>
</p>
<p>
“Did you hear—did you notice it?” spoke
Pep, excitedly.
</p>
<p>
“Why, of course,” replied Frank. “I couldn’t
understand it at first, but I know it must be some
professional imitator.”
</p>
<p>
“It was Mr. Vincent. He wore a false
beard.”
</p>
<p>
“You don’t say so!” cried Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and he was the cornetist outside, too.”
Pep went on.
</p>
<p>
“All a piece of Mr. Jolly’s work, I suppose?”
</p>
<p>
“Of course,” replied Pep. “When he got that
message this afternoon Mr. Vincent was probably
at the hotel. Then he arranged to surprise us.”
</p>
<p>
“It’s more than a surprise—it’s given tone
and novelty to the whole entertainment.”
</p>
<p>
The routine of set duties prevented the boys
from prolonging the conversation. Jolly had
begun the intermission overture and the seats
were filling up fast. A good many had remained
from the first audience. It took little circulating
among the benches for Pep to learn that “A
Wrecker’s Romance,” with its realistic interpretation,
was responsible for this.
</p>
<p>
There was not a break in the second show, but
there was a great surprise for the boys when the
third and last programme began. A good many
who had been to the National had got around to
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span>
the rival playhouse. Home-going crowds from
the beach made a stop.
</p>
<p>
“Nearly fifty people turned away,” reported
Randy, as Pep slipped out to have a word with
him.
</p>
<p>
“There must have been over eight hundred
admissions,” figured Pep.
</p>
<p>
“One thousand, one hundred and fifty exactly,”
reported Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Why, say,” cried Pep, “at that rate we’re
going to be rich!”
</p>
<p>
“Hey, young fellow,” hailed a man appearing
at this moment—“I suppose there’s a free list
for friends?”
</p>
<p>
“I should say so,” responded Pep, recognizing
the workman at the National he had gotten so
chummy with. “Step right in, although I’m
afraid I can’t offer you a seat.”
</p>
<p>
“Crowded as that; eh?” spoke the man.
“That’s fine.”
</p>
<p>
“How is it at the National?” asked Pep.
“Do they keep busy?”
</p>
<p>
“Every seat taken, but then you know they
gave away a lot of tickets. Why, say,” proceeded
the man as they got inside, “I had no
idea you could fix this place up so nifty.”
</p>
<p>
“I suppose they opened at the National before
they were all ready?” suggested Pep, who was
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span>
dreadfully curious about the proceedings of Peter
Carrington and his friends.
</p>
<p>
“I should say they did! They had to use
boards for seats and several of them split in two.
The funniest thing, though, was when one of the
private boxes broke down.”
</p>
<p>
“Say,” propounded Pep, “did they really build
some private boxes?”
</p>
<p>
“They did, for a fact. They were no use and
no ornament, and the fellow who bosses things—his
name is Beavers—kicked big against it.
Young Carrington would have it, though, so we
hurried through the best we could to-day. We
told him the floor wasn’t in and not to move the
chairs about, but he got in there with some chums.
First thing we knew one of them shifted his position,
and the three of them went through the floor
and landed sprawling on top of the piano. It was
a sight, I tell you, and the audience roared.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, I declare!” spoke Jolly, an hour later,
as he came to the front of the playhouse with
Vincent. “The last entertainment over and I
believe you could gather up enough to run another
show.”
</p>
<p>
“It certainly looks like it,” added Frank.
</p>
<p>
The last audience had dispersed, but around
and near the Wonderland a great many persons
and groups loitered or strolled along leisurely.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span>
They were the late stayers about the beach, and
had the lights been left on and the ticket office
open many of them no doubt would have entered
the playhouse.
</p>
<p>
“Enough is as good as a feast,” laughed
Randy, hugging his tin cash box under his arm
with great complacency. “It couldn’t have been
better.”
</p>
<p>
“I guess we’ve hit it this time,” pronounced
Pep, proudly.
</p>
<p>
“That isn’t always so hard to do at the start,”
advised Hal Vincent. “It’s keeping it up that
counts. You want to advertise now—new stunts,
novelties, attractions.”
</p>
<p>
“Attractions!” cried Pep. “Can the best of
them beat those cornet solos? Novelties! Why,
those talking pictures will be the hit of the town.”
</p>
<p>
“You are a famous friend, Mr. Vincent,”
spoke Frank, warmly.
</p>
<p>
“And ought to be a famous man,” supplemented
Jolly, loyally. “He’s worth putting on a
special programme, Durham.”
</p>
<p>
“I got through with my city lawsuit just in
time,” explained Vincent. “Made quite a good
settlement, too. First thing I did was to release
my wardrobe and dummies from embargo. They
are ready to ship to any point where I may find
an engagement.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span>
</p>
<p>
“Then give your order for their delivery at
Seaside Park forthwith, Mr. Vincent,” directed
Frank, spontaneously. “I’ll risk saying that we
can pay you what is fair for a month’s steady
run at least.”
</p>
<p>
“Things seem to be building up right along
the line; don’t they, Pep?” piped the piano
player briskly, giving his favorite a friendly slap
on the shoulder.
</p>
<p>
“Oh!” cried Randy, “we’re going to find all
kinds of fame and fortune at Seaside Park.”
</p>
<p>
“By—the—wild—sea—waaa-ves!” added the
versatile Vincent, throwing his ventriloquist
voice way off over the beach in a sing-song way
that startled passers-by.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—BOASTFUL PETER</h2>
<p>
“Somebody at the door, Pep.”
</p>
<p>
“All right, I’ll attend to them.”
</p>
<p>
Jolly was rearranging the chairs after sweeping
out the playhouse and Pep was dusting,
when there came a summons at the front door.
It was a smart tapping and Pep wondered who
it could be. He released one door to confront
an impressive-looking individual, with a light
cane in his hand and a face that somehow made
Pep think of a stranded actor.
</p>
<p>
“This is the Wonderland, I assume?” spoke
the caller, grandiloquently.
</p>
<p>
“You have assumed right,” replied Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Mr. Frank Durham, proprietor?”
</p>
<p>
“One of them.”
</p>
<p>
“Can I see Mr. Durham personally. Important
business.”
</p>
<p>
“Certainly. This way,” directed Pep, and he
led the way to the living room at the rear.
</p>
<p>
“What did I tell you!” half groaned Hal
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span>
Vincent into Frank’s ear the moment he set
eyes on the newcomer.
</p>
<p>
“Ah, Mr. Durham—forgotten me, I suppose?”
airily intimated the visitor, as he entered
the room.
</p>
<p>
“Not at all,” replied Frank, with a pleasant
smile, as he arose from the desk at which he
was seated.
</p>
<p>
Jolly had got hold of a very presentable desk
in his trading. It had been set in a convenient
corner of the room and constituted the “office”
of the Wonderland.
</p>
<p>
It was the ubiquitous Booth whom Frank
greeted. He knew the man at a glance and so
did Vincent. The latter viewed the new arrival
suspiciously and with a none too cordial bow.
There was something that appealed to Frank in
the visionary old fellow, however, and he treated
him courteously.
</p>
<p>
Booth bore unmistakable signs of prosperity
and contentment. He now wore a brand new
glossy silk tile, lemon colored gloves, was cleanly
shaven and exploited an irreproachable collar
and bright red necktie. He might have been one
of the amusement kings of America judging
from the immense gravity and dignity of his
demeanor. Mr. Booth drew out a memorandum
book with several bank notes folded between its
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>
pages and straightened his neat gold eyeglasses.
</p>
<p>
“I have some very pretentious business offerings
for you, Mr. Durham,” he volunteered.
“However, before we proceed any farther, there
is a matter of unfinished business—a trivial
obligation. Let me see?” and he flipped over
several leaves of the memorandum book. “Ah,
yes, this is it: ‘Acceptance, one hundred and
fifty.’ No, that is not it. ‘Note at bank’—wrong
again. Here we have it: ‘I. O. U., one dollar.’
I had forgotten the amount,” and he handed
Frank a bill for that amount.
</p>
<p>
“Many thanks, Mr. Durham. Adversity is
the common lot, and such cheerful assistance as
that which you accorded me at New York City
is of the kind that keeps the human heart warm
with those who honorably expect to pay their
debts. Now then, sir, to the important business
mission which brought me here.”
</p>
<p>
Vincent looked darkly suspicious, Frank mildly
inquisitive, Randy wondered what was coming,
and Pep was curiously expectant.
</p>
<p>
“The inauguration of two new photo playhouses
at Seaside Park has offered a certain
scope of opportunity for my line of specialization,”
proceeded Booth. “I have canvassed the
town and have done some very satisfactory initial
business, believe me, Mr. Durham.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span>
</p>
<p>
“I am very glad to hear that,” spoke Frank,
heartily.
</p>
<p>
“Beyond my expectations, I may say,” declared
the enterprising advance agent. “You
are open for curtain features, sir?”
</p>
<p>
“Of the right kind, most certainly,” assented
Frank.
</p>
<p>
“High class with me, sir, always,” declared
Booth. “I have one contract of quite some
magnitude. It is a continuous one, with a feature
that will enhance your business materially.
Perhaps I had better show you. How is that,
sir?”
</p>
<p>
The advance agent presented a card. Upon it
a photograph had been pasted and under this was
the reading:
</p>
<p>
“Who am I? Meet me face to face!”
</p>
<p>
“Why,” smiled Frank in some mystification,
“this is a picture of the back of a man’s head?”
</p>
<p>
“Exactly so—that’s just it!” nodded Booth,
animatedly. “In me you see the inventor of
that most original idea. I wish you to have that
made into a slide. You throw the picture on
the screen during the intermissions. A blank
card is given to every person with the admission
ticket. It is announced that the picture represents
a well known local merchant. Who is he?
The audience is given a chance to vote and the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span>
cards are collected. To those who guess correctly
a one-pound box of finest chocolates is
delivered next day. These confections, done up
in handsome boxes, you pile up in your front
windows with a neat placard explaining the
scheme. A custom drawer; eh, Mr. Durham?”
</p>
<p>
“Why, I must say it is quite a novel and ingenious
plan,” admitted Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Got to have some attraction like that to interest
new business, sir,” declared Booth. “I
have presented the plan to you first, because you
stood my friend in time of need and because I
am informed that you operate the leading playhouse
here at Seaside Park.”
</p>
<p>
“Are you authorized to make a deal on that
business, Booth?” inquired Vincent, in a blunt,
matter-of-fact way.
</p>
<p>
“I am,” replied the advance agent with emphasis.
“My client will sign a contract. He is
one of the most reliable business men in the community.
In later curtain features, first the rear
view and then the front view and advertisement
of my client’s business will be delineated on the
screen. I have several other features to follow
this one. I can make it worth your while to
enter into a contract.”
</p>
<p>
“I see no objection to your proposition,” returned
Frank, after a moment’s reflection. “I
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span>
dislike any prize lottery contests, or anything
that approaches the gambling idea; but this suggestion
of yours seems clean and honest.”
</p>
<p>
He went over details with Booth and was
pleased to realize that quite a neat little income
was promised from this unexpected feature of
the entertainments.
</p>
<p>
“I declare, that is the first coherent scheme I
ever knew Booth to put through,” asserted Vincent,
as the advance agent took his departure.
“If he sticks at this in a business-like way it
looks as if he would make some real money. He
goes off on a tangent every once in a while, Durham.
You needn’t be surprised if he drops in
some day with one of his wild schemes, like
dropping free tickets over the town from a balloon.”
</p>
<p>
“Ready to go to the bank, Randy?” inquired
Frank, in quite a flutter, taking the bank book
from a pigeonhole in the desk.
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” replied Randy, taking a neatly done-up
package from his tin cash box. “I’ve sorted
out everything above fifty cents for deposit.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s right—always keep a good supply of
small change on hand,” advised Jolly. “I say,
Durham, what about the daytime shows?”
</p>
<p>
“We had better canvass that situation during
the day,” replied Frank. “We might give it a
trial, say, day after to-morrow.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span>
</p>
<p>
“I don’t think a morning show would pay us,”
suggested Vincent. “You might work in three
matinees, though, especially when the beach gets
more crowded.”
</p>
<p>
Randy invited Pep to go down to the bank
with him. They felt pretty good over the pleasant
way things were going.
</p>
<p>
“We’re in the swim, sure,” declared Pep, animatedly.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, and drifting along most delightfully,”
agreed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Sort of a howling capitalist; aren’t you!”
railed Pep, as they reached the bank, and with
a due sense of importance his companion handed
in bank book and money at the receiving teller’s
window.
</p>
<p>
“You needn’t talk,” retorted Randy—“you’re
‘a bloated bondholder’; aren’t you?”
</p>
<p>
Pep winced at the allusion. As they passed
down the steps of the bank they came face to
face with two of their business rivals. They
were Peter Carrington and Greg Grayson. Pep
carelessly and Randy rather distantly bowed to
the two boys and were about to pass on their
way.
</p>
<p>
“Hold on,” sang out Peter, in his usual abrupt
style. “Had quite a house last night; didn’t
you? So did we.”
</p>
<p>
“I heard so,” observed Pep. “What’s the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>
matter with your private box department,
though?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, accidents will happen,” returned Peter.
“Say, look out for a big hit, though, in a day
or two.”
</p>
<p>
“That so?” said Pep.
</p>
<p>
“You bet! Isn’t that so, Greg?”
</p>
<p>
Greg Grayson assented with a nod. He looked
mean and probably felt the same way. He had
sense enough to realize that his past record with
the moving picture chums, taken in conjunction
with his present appearance on a new scene,
showed him up in a poor light.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, sir,” vaunted Peter, swelling as if some
big idea had sprouted in that dull brain of his;
“we’re going to spring a motion picture sensation
on Seaside Park that will about make us.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s good,” applauded Randy. “You deserve
it if you have the right thing.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, we just have,” boasted Peter. “It’s
so good that I shouldn’t wonder if it put everybody
else in our line clean out of business.”
</p>
<p>
“Meaning us, I suppose?” inquired Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Well, those who don’t want to get hurt had
better keep out of the way,” advised Peter.
“The National has come to stay, I can tell you
that.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—THE GREAT FILM</h2>
<p>
“Durham, I feel that we’ve just go to get
that film,” spoke Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
He held in his hand a special letter from the
National Film Exchange, and the lively piano
player waved it about in a way that showed that
he was unusually excited.
</p>
<p>
“Yes,” nodded Hal Vincent, “this is one of
those specials that come along only once or twice
a year. The prize fights used to lead before people
knew as much as they do now; but you take
a royal coronation, or a national auto race, or an
earthquake, or liner lost at sea, and that’s the
big feature that the public run after for about a
month.”
</p>
<p>
“You’ve got to get in at them at the start,
though,” suggested Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Always. The event advertises itself and the
film men give it a new start. Why, to open up
for day shows, this flood film would be an attraction
all of itself.”
</p>
<p>
“Better keep up with the times,” half laughed
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span>
Randy. “You know how Peter Carrington is
bragging about some new attraction that is going
to put us out of business.”
</p>
<p>
Frank and his chums were practically novices
in the “movies” line. They, however, knew
enough about the business to realize that the
theme under discussion was one worth considering
in all its bearings. Furthermore, they placed
great reliance in the judgment of Jolly and Vincent.
The letter they had received advised them
that within two days the “Great Flood Series”
of films would be offered for lease. The supply
was limited and on this account one film had
been apportioned to certain territory. The right
to use the film, therefore, would go to the highest
bidder in each district.
</p>
<p>
The flood film covered a national disaster in
which a large section of the West had been inundated,
causing immense loss to life and property.
Public charity had been appealed to and there
were relief funds all over the country. The interest
in the event had not yet abated.
</p>
<p>
“It’s a big feature,” declared Ben Jolly. “My
advice is to get it.”
</p>
<p>
“And get it quick,” added Vincent. “These
attractions are grabbed for.”
</p>
<p>
“But the cost?” suggested Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, it is never ruinous,” said Vincent.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>
“See here, you can spare me best out of your
most valuable staff. I’ll go to the city and put
the deal through, if you say so.”
</p>
<p>
“What about those cornet solos, and the talking
picture stunt, and the act you were going to
put on the programme?” grumbled Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, they will keep for a night or so,” replied
Vincent. “Another thing, I ordered my outfit,
which was levied on at the stand down country
where my last venture showed, sent to New York
City before I knew I was coming down here.
There’s some new wardrobe properties I want,
too, so I can do double duty while I am in the
city.”
</p>
<p>
It was decided that Vincent should go to New
York and see what could be done about the
flood film. The boys had figured up what price
they could stand as a maximum figure, but considerable
discretion was left to their representative.
Randy and Pep strolled down to the depot
with Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“See who’s here,” suddenly observed Randy.
</p>
<p>
Peter Carrington, in a loud, checked suit,
alarming necktie and classy yachting cap, was at
the depot with his two admiring cronies, Greg
Grayson and Jack Beavers. He was talking in
a loud, showy way, but as Beavers caught sight
of Vincent he spoke quickly to Peter and they
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span>
drew away from the spot. Peter entered the
chair car when the train came in.
</p>
<p>
“Hello, going your way,” observed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Say, suppose he’s after that new feature
film?” inquired Pep, excitedly.
</p>
<p>
“Might be,” observed Vincent, carelessly. “If
that’s the big card they were bragging about,
they haven’t landed it yet. Glad you mentioned
that point, Pep. I’ll get busy.”
</p>
<p>
There was a great deal to attend to that day.
The season had commenced with the finest of
weather and it bade fair to continue indefinitely.
Frank and Jolly spent several hours deciding on
the matinee feature.
</p>
<p>
“Tell you what, fellows,” he said to Randy
and Pep, “Mr. Jolly thinks he had better take
the week to get into our routine thoroughly.
Mr. Booth was in to see us again this morning
about some advertising he will put through at
low cost. I hardly think we will try any day
shows until next week, unless our competitors
do. Then of course we will have to show our
colors.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, I can tell you that they are not
asleep,” declared Pep.
</p>
<p>
“How is that?” inquired Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“I saw my friend who works for them. He
is building a big transparency to put across the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span>
front of the National. He don’t know exactly
what it is going to advertise, but he thinks a big
film feature.”
</p>
<p>
“The flood special, I’ll bet!” guessed Randy
at once.
</p>
<p>
“Aren’t they a little premature?” advanced
Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“We’ll know to-night,” said Frank. “Mr.
Vincent will probably be back on a late train.”
</p>
<p>
The boys were brisk and ready for the evening’s
entertainment when the hour arrived.
There was every indication of a big attendance.
What pleased Frank most was to notice that
those who were waiting for the doors to open
were mostly family people—children and residents.
This spoke well for the reputation the
Wonderland had already gained.
</p>
<p>
The first house was only fair. There was,
however, a big gain at eight o’clock. Randy
looked up from the ticket reel as a familiar voice
struck his ear with the monotonous:
</p>
<p>
“Two tickets, please.”
</p>
<p>
“No, no,” he laughed, moving back the bill
which Miss Porter presented, and bowing with
deference to her companion, the portly Mrs. Carrington.
“You must allow us the honor and
pleasure of retaining you on the free list.”
</p>
<p>
“Ridiculous, young man!” said the outspoken
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span>
Mrs. Carrington, but she was forced ahead by
the on-pressing crowd. Pep caught sight of
them and hustled about actively securing two
good seats among the few left.
</p>
<p>
Pep felt that he was on good behavior with
the eyes of their lady patronesses upon them.
When they arose to leave at the end of the hour
he slipped over to the operator’s booth and advised
Frank of the presence of their distinguished
company. The little party drew aside
for a moment or two out of the path of the
dispersing audience.
</p>
<p>
“We must certainly compliment you on your
well ordered place, Mr. Durham,” said Mrs. Carrington.
</p>
<p>
“And your tasteful selection of films,” added
Miss Porter, brightly. “As to your pianist, he
is an expert, and your usher system perfect.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, pshaw! you are making fun of me,” declared
Pep, reddening.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, dear!” observed Mrs. Carrington with
a sigh, “of course I am deeply anxious for the
success of that headstrong nephew of mine.
Now he has got into the motion picture business
I can’t quite abandon him; but I must say the
National is crude and inartistic compared with
your place here.”
</p>
<p>
“Peter has our best wishes, Mrs. Carrington,” declared
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span>
Frank. “I can assure you of
that. Of course we are business rivals, but it
will be with entire fairness on our part.”
</p>
<p>
“I am sure it will. I told you so, Mrs. Carrington,”
spoke Miss Porter. “Peter talks as
though you were sanguinary enemies, but I knew
it was nonsense as far as you are concerned. I
don’t like the man he has taken in with him, a
Mr. Beavers, however. I told him so yesterday,
but met with a rebuff for the interest I displayed
in Peter’s welfare.”
</p>
<p>
“That little lady is our champion, all right,”
declared Pep, returning from escorting the ladies
to their automobile.
</p>
<p>
When the boys came to reckon up the proceeds
of the evening they found them to be several
dollars over what they had taken in the first
night. They were congratulating themselves on
their continued good fortune when Hal Vincent
put in an appearance. He had a great paper roll
under his arm and looked brisk and contented.
</p>
<p>
“Well, Hal?” hailed Jolly, in a cheery, expectant
way.
</p>
<p>
“I want to show you something,” was the
ventriloquist’s reply as he opened the roll upon
the table.
</p>
<p>
It contained six different four-sheet posters.
They were high colored, well executed and attractive.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span>
They depicted striking and thrilling
events of “The Great Flood.”
</p>
<p>
“Twenty-five sets go with the films,” he explained.
</p>
<p>
“And you’ve got the films?” said Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“I couldn’t bear to leave them behind,” replied
Vincent, with a smile. “I’ve got them and
the price won’t break us—but it’s at the cost of
making a deadly enemy.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—GETTING ALONG</h2>
<p>
“Who’s the enemy, Mr. Vincent?” inquired
Frank, quickly.
</p>
<p>
“Peter Carrington.”
</p>
<p>
“Pooh!” derided Randy.
</p>
<p>
“That doesn’t sound so dangerous,” declared
Pep, lightly.
</p>
<p>
“Tell us about it, Hal,” urged Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“There isn’t a lot to tell,” replied Vincent.
“Pep here was right about Carrington being
bound on the same mission to the city as myself.
I found him at the National Film Exchange in
great fettle. He had just closed a deal for the
flood film.”
</p>
<p>
“Then—then——” began Pep, in alarm.
</p>
<p>
“In his usual conspicuous and important way
he had his check book out, fountain pen in hand,
and ended up a grand flourish to his signature
with a sort of triumphant grin at me as I entered
the office.
</p>
<p>
“‘Too late, Mr. Man!’ he chuckled.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span>
‘Thought maybe you would be after the king
attraction of the season, so I hot-footed it here
from the train. There you are, sir,’ and he
handed the check to the cashier of the Exchange.
‘Just pack up that film and the posters. Building
a big transparency advertising it. If I can
catch an early train we’ll put it on to-night.’
</p>
<p>
“‘I cannot deliver the goods on this check,
Mr. Carrington,’ said the cashier, politely but
firmly.
</p>
<p>
“‘I’d like to know why you can’t!’ flared up
Peter. ‘That check is good as gold, and my
aunt has a little fortune in that same bank.’
</p>
<p>
“‘All right, get someone in New York to indorse
it and you can have the goods,’ advised the
cashier. ‘It’s no discrimination, Mr. Carrington.
We make this a stringent rule with all
out-of-town customers.’
</p>
<p>
“‘Why, if you doubt my word, telegraph the
bank at Seaside Park,’ flustered Peter. ‘Say,
I’ll do it myself. I’ll have the cash wired on,
but I shall enter a protest and a complaint with
your superiors.’
</p>
<p>
“‘That’s all right,’ smiled the cashier indifferently.
‘I’ll give you an hour to get the cash
here. Only, remember we are likely to have
other bids.’
</p>
<p>
“‘I am on hand to take a look at the proposition,’
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span>
I remarked just there. Peter nearly had
a fit. Then he dived for the door. I found out
that his figure was ninety-eight dollars for the
week. I added two dollars. ‘Wait the hour,’
said the cashier.
</p>
<p>
“The hour was up and fifteen minutes over
the limit when Peter rushed upon the scene once
more,” narrated Vincent. “He pulled a big wad
of bank notes out of his pocket. ‘Pack up that
film,’ he ordered sourly, ‘and cancel all our other
orders. I’m going to a new place where they
won’t question my credit on a measly sum like
ninety-eight dollars.’
</p>
<p>
“‘The film is sold for Seaside Park,’ explained
the cashier. ‘The Wonderland has overbid you.
You are overdue.’
</p>
<p>
“‘Hold on,’ I put in, ‘I don’t want to take
advantage of a competitor. Fair and square,
Carrington. If you want the film, bid for it.’
</p>
<p>
“‘Of course I’ll bid for it,’ boasted Peter.
‘I’ll give a hundred and five.’
</p>
<p>
“‘And ten,’ I said quietly.
</p>
<p>
“‘Fifteen.’
</p>
<p>
“‘And twenty,’ I added.
</p>
<p>
“‘Sho!’ said Peter, flipping over the bills in
his hand. I haven’t much more ready cash here
with me.‘
</p>
<p>
“‘I’ll loan you on your check,’ I told him and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>
the bluff took. I had only the hundred and fifty
you gave me, but I was nervy, and it beat Peter.
I fancy Jack Beavers had set a limit, or the real
money wasn’t flush at the National; anyhow
with a snarl and a scowl Peter gritted his teeth
at both of us and decamped.”
</p>
<p>
Late as the hour was the motion picture chums
were so interested in the new film that they had
to give it a trial run. It was all the lurid advertising
claimed for it from start to finish, and it
took thirty-five minutes to run it—the scenes depicted
held the interest.
</p>
<p>
“It’s well worth the money,” declared Ben
Jolly enthusiastically. “Now then, to exploit it
to the limit.”
</p>
<p>
The transparency frame built for the National
remained in place, but its muslin covering did not
contain the announcement expected by Peter and
his satellites. Even Hal Vincent, well as he
knew Jack Beavers, was greatly surprised when
he was told the next day that the space was devoted
to booming a recent sparring match.
</p>
<p>
“It’s pretty bad taste,” he criticised. “It will
take with a certain element, but it won’t help in
getting the good people and the stayers.”
</p>
<p>
The flood film was widely advertised and put
on that Thursday night. The posters made a fine
show in the various store windows of the town.
A private school came <em>en masse</em> to the first
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span>
evening entertainment. A ladies’ charitable association,
active in raising a fund for the flood sufferers,
was among the audience Friday night.
</p>
<p>
“It’s a go,” voted Ben Jolly, as Randy reported
over a hundred people turned away from the
doors. “If I were you, Durham, I would wire
the Exchange for a thirty days’ contract on that
film.”
</p>
<p>
This was done. A big house was expected for
Saturday night and it had been decided to run
two matinees from three to five beginning Monday.
This crowded a little but not to any noticeable
discomfort.
</p>
<p>
Pep, always on the scent for information regarding
their competitors, came in with a new
bulletin at supper time.
</p>
<p>
“Things are getting sort of mixed down at
the National, I hear,” he remarked.
</p>
<p>
“How’s that, Pep?” questioned Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“They had a rough crowd among the audience
last night and there was a fight. Two women
fainted and several had their pockets picked by
some fellows from that new Midway they started
last week outside of the concession belt.”
</p>
<p>
“I noticed Jack Beavers with a couple of hard-looking
fellows yesterday afternoon down at the
Midway,” said Vincent. “That won’t pay them,
I can tell you.”
</p>
<p>
“If the rough crowd have begun their work
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span>
at the National we may expect them to make the
rounds,” said Jolly. “Keep a sharp eye out,
Pep.”
</p>
<p>
“I’ll do just that,” was the prompt response.
</p>
<p>
As anticipated by the motion picture chums
and their friends, the throngs that evening beat
all records. Pep forgot to look for suspicious
characters or trouble. Everything went smoothly
up to the last show, when he noticed four swaggering
fellows come in. They crowded their way
to the front and made a noisy shuffling with their
feet and talked loudly. A few minutes later a
like group gained admittance and took seats
among the rear rows of seats. There were cat
calls and signals between the two groups and Pep
scented trouble.
</p>
<p>
Vincent, who until he went on the programme
the next week helped Pep to keep things in order,
came up to his young friend just as the first film
of the third series was being run off.
</p>
<p>
“I say, Pep,” he observed, “two of the fellows
in that quartette in front there are the same fellows
I saw with Jack Beavers. They look ripe
for a demonstration.”
</p>
<p>
“You mean they may have been sent here to
make trouble for us?”
</p>
<p>
“And rush the crowd in the hope of picking a
few pockets—that is their general programme,
yes.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span>
</p>
<p>
“I wish we could get one of the beach policemen
to show himself,” said Pep. “That would
scare them off. Those officers are friendly to us,
but won’t make a move until a real row is on.”
</p>
<p>
“I think I can help out on this proposition,”
remarked Vincent, and Pep noticed that he passed
through the doorway leading to the living apartment,
behind the main room.
</p>
<p>
When the lights came on for a moment between
the first and second film Pep stared in blank
surprise at a figure standing against the side wall.
It was that of a police officer fully uniformed,
even to the stout club usually carried. He was
not ten feet away from the quartette that had
made Pep so apprehensive.
</p>
<p>
“It’s Mr. Vincent,” guessed Pep—“good for
him!”
</p>
<p>
The versatile ventriloquist it was. His extensive
wardrobe had provided a disguise that cooled
down the four unwelcome visitors from the start.
Vincent stood like a statue where he had posted
himself, as if on duty. When the lights went off
he drew even nearer to the quartette, and they
seemed to accept the fact that he was there for
their benefit and that it would pay them to behave
themselves.
</p>
<p>
Vincent was a good deal surprised when someone
came close to him down the aisle next to the
outer wall of the building. He was almost startled
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>
when the words were whispered in his ear:
</p>
<p>
“Officer, I want you to help me as soon as this
film is over.”
</p>
<p>
“In what way?” inquired Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“The two men at the end of the front seats
here—Midway crowd—I want them.”
</p>
<p>
“Want them?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, I am an officer from the city—I’ll show
you my credentials later. The two fellows I mention
have led me a long hunt—it’s a burglary
case.”
</p>
<p>
“What do you want me to do?” inquired Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“They will show fight, both of them, the minute
their eyes light on me. You grab the second
fellow. I’ll attend to the other one. Then send
the usher out for more police help.”
</p>
<p>
“All right,” assented Vincent, “only do all this
quietly as you can. We don’t want to hurt the
reputation of the show by any rough work.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, they’ll wilt when they see they’re cornered.
Another word-whisper.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes?”
</p>
<p>
“Help me to do this job neatly and there’s a
fine reward to divide.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—A RICH FIND</h2>
<p>
As the lights came on again the man who had
spoken to Vincent moved forward so as to intercept
the two end men on the second row of seats.
One of them, who had arisen the moment he
fixed his eyes on the officer from the city, sat
down quickly. He pulled his next companion by
the sleeve, who slunk down with him.
</p>
<p>
All this Vincent noticed, and Pep, guessing
that these actions meant something, glided to the
side of the ventriloquist.
</p>
<p>
“What is it, Mr. Vincent?” he inquired
breathlessly.
</p>
<p>
“I hardly know myself yet,” said Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“I want you, my man!” spoke the city officer
just here.
</p>
<p>
He reached out and grabbed the slinking man
by the collar.
</p>
<p>
“That one also,” was added sharply, and Hal
Vincent pounced upon the other man in true official
style. Pep heard what he took for signal
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span>
whistles from the other members of the party,
whom he noticed burrowing their way through
the crowd as if fearing detection themselves and
anxious to get out of the way as fast as they
could.
</p>
<p>
“Go out and tell a couple of beach officers we
need them, Pep,” spoke Vincent quickly. “This
way,” he added to the New York officer, and led
his prisoner into the living rooms.
</p>
<p>
Pep hurried on his mission and returned with
the officers sent for. He advised Frank and
Randy that “something was up” and made sure
that the latter got started for the rear with his
cash box. Then Pep closed and locked the front
doors securely.
</p>
<p>
He stood there on guard until the two policemen
and the officer from the city came out with
their prisoners. They had handcuffed them together
and the captives looked sullen but subdued.
</p>
<p>
“I won’t forget you,” spoke the officer from
the city as Pep let the little group get out into the
street.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Vincent. “We’re
glad to have got through with the fellows without
any row or publicity.”
</p>
<p>
“What have those men been doing, Mr. Vincent?”
inquired Pep as the doors were again secured
and they went back into the living rooms.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span>
</p>
<p>
“Some big burglary in New York, the officer
said,” explained the ventriloquist. “It seems he
has been on their trail for a week. Located them
at the Midway and traced them here to-night.”
</p>
<p>
“Get your broom, Randy,” ordered Pep, consulting
his watch.
</p>
<p>
“What for?”
</p>
<p>
“We’ve got just forty-eight minutes before
twelve o’clock. We want to sweep out by then.
To-morrow’s Sunday, when we won’t do it, and
the next day is Monday when we can’t do it with
the hustle and bustle of a double programme and
two matinees. Besides, it’s a satisfaction to see
it all neat and in order over to-morrow.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s so,” assented Randy, but he yawned,
for it had been an arduous day for all hands.
</p>
<p>
The boys pitched in with ardor, Pep taking one
side, Randy the other. There was more sand
than dust, for the floor had been cleanly swept
only that morning. There was, however, the
usual lot of candy and popcorn boxes, torn programmes,
and the general litter of the entertainment.
</p>
<p>
“You beat me, Randy,” said Pep, as his companion
rounded into the end of the center aisle
near the entrance first with his heap of swept-up
rubbish.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll get the box and the dust pan,” volunteered Randy,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span>
“and we’ll soon have the rubbish
out of the way.”
</p>
<p>
While his comrade was gone for the utensils in
question Pep began poking about in the accumulated
heap swept up. He always did this before
the heap was placed in the rubbish box and
dumped out of a side window into a coal box
standing beneath it. Very often they found little
articles of value—once a pair of ladies’ gloves, a
baby’s hat twice, rings, and after nearly every performance
pennies, nickels, and once a dollar bill.
A list of these articles of any value was made and
placarded on a neat card labelled “Owner Apply,”
tacked up on the ticket seller’s booth outside.
</p>
<p>
“A plugged nickel and two suspender buttons,”
laughed Pep as a result of his explorations
as Randy reappeared.
</p>
<p>
“I kicked something!” announced Randy, and
sure enough something that rattled skidded
across the floor from the edge of the dust heap.
</p>
<p>
“Why,” replied Pep, picking up the article in
question, “it’s a chamois bag.”
</p>
<p>
“Something in it?” questioned Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Think so? I’ll see,” and Pep probed. “I
say,” he added with animation, “look here,
Randy!”
</p>
<p>
Both boys viewed in amazement the object Pep
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span>
had extracted from the little chamois bag. It
sparkled and dazzled.
</p>
<p>
“Gold!” uttered Randy.
</p>
<p>
“And diamonds!” added Pep with zest. “It’s
a necklace. It’s handsome enough to be real, but
that can’t be.”
</p>
<p>
“Why not?” challenged Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, it would be worth a small fortune.
Who’s going to drop a thing like that in a ten-cent
motion picture show?”
</p>
<p>
“We’ll ask Mr. Vincent,” suggested Randy,
and Pep slipped their singular find into his pocket.
They cleaned up the dust heap, set the rows of
chairs in apple pie order and joined the others in
the living rooms.
</p>
<p>
“I want to show you something, Mr. Vincent,”
said Pep, approaching the ventriloquist,
who with Jolly was dispatching supper at the
table.
</p>
<p>
“Why,” exclaimed Vincent, as Pep handed
him the chamois bag and he held up to the light
the necklace it contained, “where in the world
did you get this?”
</p>
<p>
“I should say so!” cried Jolly, his eyes fixed
upon the shimmering article of jewelry.
</p>
<p>
“Randy swept it up,” explained Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Is it good for anything?” inquired Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Is it!” projected Vincent forcibly. “I should
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span>
rather say so! Those are genuine diamonds, and
the other settings are valuable, too. Not less than
a thousand dollars, and maybe five.”
</p>
<p>
Pep gave utterance to an excited whistle.
Randy looked bewildered. Frank, busy at his
desk going over the contents of the cash box,
arose from his chair and like the others became
an interested member of the group.
</p>
<p>
“Some lady must have carried it with her and
it dropped from her pocket,” he suggested. “It
is too late to-night to think of seeking an owner
for it.”
</p>
<p>
“Whoever it belongs to will be around looking
for it quick enough,” declared Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“I hope there will be some kind of a reward,”
said Randy.
</p>
<p>
“If there is, you get it,” observed Pep.
</p>
<p>
“No, we divide,” insisted his loyal chum.
</p>
<p>
“Well, wait till the reward is offered, will
you?” laughed Jolly. “I say, Durham, our
friend Booth must know of this. He’ll get us a
whole column in the newspapers. ‘Exclusive and
fashionable audience at the Wonderland. Sensational
loss of priceless gems! Found by the proprietors.
Consumed with anxiety to locate the
owner. Latter appears—prominent society leader.
Jewels restored and the Wonderland still running
to crowded houses. See the great flood feature
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span>
films!’ Why, it’s as good as the usual lost jewels
for the actress.”
</p>
<p>
Frank took charge of the chamois bag and deposited
it in the tin cash box. This he locked up
and as usual took it into one of the apartments
where he slept.
</p>
<p>
“We shall have to keep special watch over all
that valuable stuff until the bank opens Monday
morning,” he explained.
</p>
<p>
Randy hung around, wrought up with excitement
over their wonderful find and anxious to
talk about it. Pep was very tired and went to his
cot to rest. Frank, Jolly and Vincent sat with
their feet on the sill of an open window, enjoying
the cool breeze from the ocean and indulging in
pleasant comments on the first successful week of
the Wonderland.
</p>
<p>
“With the flood film and the specialty act of
the great family entertainer, ‘Signor Halloway
Vincenzo,’ I predict we will capture the town next
week,” declared Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Guess I’ll turn in, too,” remarked Randy,
after wandering about the room aimlessly for
some time.
</p>
<p>
“All right, just turn out the light, will you?”
asked Frank. “It’s sort of nice to sit here with
the moonlight streaming in.”
</p>
<p>
Randy took off his coat and shoes and started
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>
for the apartment where Pep was fast asleep. It
contained two cots. He had started over to give
Pep a shake and make him get up and undress,
when he chanced to pass one of the windows and
glanced out.
</p>
<p>
“Fire!” he instantly shouted, and rushed out
into the room where the others were.
</p>
<p>
“What’s that?” challenged Frank, springing
to his feet.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, right across the block,” declared Randy.
“You can see it from the side window. Look at
that!”
</p>
<p>
A glare suddenly illuminated the room. Ben
Jolly moved to the window and uttered a sharp
whistle of surprise. Frank ran into his room and
came out with his cap on. Then there was a rush
for the little back stairs running into the yard behind
the building.
</p>
<p>
“Wait for me!” called out Randy, struggling
to put on his shoes.
</p>
<p>
“Hey! what’s all the row?” hailed Pep sleepily,
as Randy stamped his foot into a shoe,
grabbed up his cap and coat and made a dive for
the yard.
</p>
<p>
“Fire!” bawled back Randy. “Right near
us, too! Hurry up!”
</p>
<p>
Pep sat up on his cot rubbing his eyes. Then
a spurting glare from the fire lit up the room. He
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span>
jumped to his feet and hurried out into the large
room.
</p>
<p>
“It is a fire, sure enough,” he exclaimed, glancing
from the window. “It’s that big building
where they rent rooms to transients. The whole
roof is ablaze and——”
</p>
<p>
Pep came to a sudden halt. Just stepping over
the threshold of the doorway at the head of the
yard steps, he was confronted by two men running
up them.
</p>
<p>
One of them threw out one hand. It landed on
Pep’s breast, almost pushing him off his footing,
and was accompanied by the gruff voice:
</p>
<p>
“Hey, you get back in there!”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—THE TIN BOX</h2>
<p>
Pep was a quick thinker. He could not tell
how it was, but the minute his eyes lighted on the
two strangers he somehow associated them with
the group from whom he had anticipated trouble
earlier in the night. In fact he was not sure that
they were not two members of the quartette who
had been the object of the visit of the officer from
the city.
</p>
<p>
“What do you want?” Pep instantly challenged.
</p>
<p>
For answer his assailant leaped forward and
made a grab for him. Pep knew that the intrusion
of these men could have no good motive.
He dodged, seized a frying pan from the gas
stove, and brandished it vigorously.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll strike!” he shouted. “Don’t you try to
hold me!”
</p>
<p>
“Quiet the young spitfire,” growled the second
of the men, and although Pep got in one or two
hard knocks with his impromptu weapon, he was
finally held tightly by the arms from behind by
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span>
one of the men. Pep let out a ringing yell, hoping
to attract attention from outside, but his
friends were by this time in the turmoil of the
fire, and the few crossing vacant spaces were
shouting and excited like himself.
</p>
<p>
“I supposed they had all rushed out to the
fire,” spoke the man who had first appeared.
“Keep this one quiet, if you have to choke him.”
</p>
<p>
Pep’s captor threw him to the floor and pinned
him there with his knee on his breast, despite his
wrigglings. He managed to apply a gag. Then
he rudely jerked Pep to his feet, holding his
wrists together in a vise-like grip.
</p>
<p>
The flare from the fire and the bright moonlight
illumined the room as clearly as day. Some
vivid thoughts ran riot in the active mind of Pep
as the other man went into one of the partitioned
sleeping places.
</p>
<p>
“That’s right,” called out Pep’s captor. “The
boy who had the tin box carried it in there somewhere.”
</p>
<p>
“Got it!” sounded in a triumphant tone two
minutes later, and there was a rattle and a rustling
sound.
</p>
<p>
Pep groaned inwardly. He could figure things
out clearly now, he fancied. The intruders were
the two former companions of those arrested not
two hours before by the city officer.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span>
</p>
<p>
“Then it was the fellow he was after that left
the chamois bag,” theorized Pep rapidly. “He
didn’t want it found on him, and he got word to
these friends of his. They probably saw us looking
at the necklace through the windows and
planned to get it back. When Frank and the others
ran out to the fire they hurried in here,
and——”
</p>
<p>
“Got it; eh?” inquired Pep’s captor, as his
comrade reappeared.
</p>
<p>
“I have,” chuckled the other, and busied himself
rolling a pillow slip about the tin box.
“Found it under a cot in there. Now then, quick
is the word.”
</p>
<p>
The man who held Pep gave him a sudden
fling. Pep landed against the wall on the other
side of the room with stunning force. The two
men, hurriedly departing, directed a quick glance
at him.
</p>
<p>
“That settles him,” observed the foremost of
the two, running down the outside stairs.
</p>
<p>
Pep was dazed for a moment. He actually fell
back half stunned. His head had received a terrific
bump. The instant a thought of the loss of
their little treasure box drifted into his mind,
however, he was on his feet in a flash.
</p>
<p>
He tore the obstructing handkerchief from his
mouth and made for the open door, capless and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span>
out of breath. Pep darted down the stairs, his
eyes glancing in every direction. The whole top
of the building, three hundred feet away, was
blazing now. There was a vacant space behind
the Wonderland, and across this people were running
in the direction of the fire. Pep could not
make out his friends anywhere about. As his
glance swept in the opposite direction he saw two
shadowy forms headed on a run for the side
street.
</p>
<p>
“It’s them; I see them!” cried Pep, and he
sprinted ahead, his eyes fixed upon the scurrying
figures. They disappeared between two buildings.
Then they came out on the street next to
the boardwalk.
</p>
<p>
All along Pep’s idea had been to get near
enough to them to call upon others to assist him
in detaining them as thieves. There was no police
officer in sight, however, and people about
were thinking only of getting to the scene of the
fire. Then, as Pep came out upon the street into
which the two men had turned, he saw them
standing by an automobile. One of them was
cranking it. The other had climbed into the rear
seat.
</p>
<p>
“Stop those men! they have robbed us!”
shouted Pep, putting for the spot where the automobile
stood and addressing three or four persons who were
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span>
hastening in the direction of the
fire.
</p>
<p>
One of these halted and looked at Pep as if to
take heed of his announcement, but his fellows
urged him to come on and laughed at Pep. The
outcry had hastened the movements of the thieves.
The man in front of the machine jumped into the
chauffeur’s seat and seized the wheel.
</p>
<p>
“You shan’t get away with our property!”
declared Pep, gaining on the auto just starting
up. “Help! Thieves! Police! Police!”
</p>
<p>
The man in the rear seat had placed the box by
his side. He had both hands free. As Pep leaped
to the step and clung there, he reached out both
arms. He was a fellow of powerful build, and
he was annoyed and angry at the pertinacity of
their pursuer. Pep dodged his head and body
aside, but the man got a hold on his coat and
pulled him clear over into the machine.
</p>
<p>
“Now go on,” he directed his companion.
“I’ll squelch the young wildcat.”
</p>
<p>
“You won’t! Help! Police—pol——”
</p>
<p>
The man had Pep down between his knees. He
was cruelly brutal, squeezing him down out of
view from the street and choking him into silence.
Pep gave up all hope now. He was silenced
and helpless. The machine made several
turns to baffle pursuit, if anyone should follow,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span>
and started down a winding road leading into the
country.
</p>
<p>
“Now you sit still there and keep your tongue
quiet or I’ll do worse for you next time,” growled
his captor, lifting Pep to the seat and holding to
one arm.
</p>
<p>
“Why don’t you pitch him out?” demanded
the man acting as chauffeur. “We’re past the
hue and cry now.”
</p>
<p>
“Not from a fellow with his sharp wits,” retorted
the other. “He’d find the first telephone,
double-quick. He’s made us a lot of trouble. I’ll
give him a long walk home for his meddling.”
</p>
<p>
They were going at such a furious rate Pep
knew that even if they passed anyone his shout
would be incoherent and borne away on the wind.
At any rate they were secure from pursuit except
by an automobile like their own.
</p>
<p>
He foresaw the fate of the little tin box—carried
away with its precious contents by these
criminals, himself abandoned in some lonely spot
to find his way back home as best he might. A
desperate resolve came into Pep’s mind, as glancing
ahead he caught the glint of water. At the
end of a steep incline a bridge spanned a small
river. Pep got his free hand ready. Just as the
front wheels of the machine struck the first timbers
of the bridge, his hand shot out for the tin
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span>
box in its pillow case covering, lying on the
cushion between himself and his captor.
</p>
<p>
It was all done quick as a flash. A grab, a
whirl, a splash, and the hurling object disappeared
beneath the calm waters just beyond the outer
bridge rail. The man beside Pep uttered a shout.
He was so taken aback at the unexpected event
that he relaxed his hold on his captive.
</p>
<p>
His cry had startled his companion at the
wheel, who took it as a signal of warning of some
sort, and he instantly shut down on speed. It
was Pep’s golden opportunity. Before the man
beside him could prevent it, he made a nimble
spring out of the machine, landed on the planking
of the bridge approach, stumbled, fell, and then,
as a crash sounded, dived into a nest of shrubbery
lining the stream.
</p>
<p>
Pep did not wait to look back to trace the occasion
of the crash. He heard confused shouts
and knew that the two men had gotten into some
trouble with the automobile. A light not over a
hundred feet distant had attracted his attention.
Pep darted forward. He ran into a barbed wire
fence, then he crawled under it, and on its other
side made out a farmhouse. The light came
from the doorway of a big barn, where two persons,
a man and a boy, were just unhitching a
horse from a light wagon.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span>
</p>
<p>
“Mister!” cried Pep breathlessly, running up
to the men, “two thieves had wrecked their automobile
right at the bridge. They have stolen a
lot of money and jewelry. They tried to carry
me away with them.”
</p>
<p>
“Run for my gun, Jabez,” ordered the farmer,
roused at the sensational announcement.
“Maybe they’re the fellows who broke in here
last week when we were away at a neighbor’s.”
</p>
<p>
The boy ran to the house. He soon reappeared
with a clumsy double-barreled shotgun
over his shoulder.
</p>
<p>
“Arm yourselves,” directed the farmer, taking
the weapon in one hand, the lantern in the
other.
</p>
<p>
His son picked up a rake and handed a pitchfork
to Pep. Then the boys followed the farmer
as he strode towards the road.
</p>
<p>
The moonlight showed a wrecked automobile
lying where it had been driven into a little clump
of saplings—breaking them off two feet from the
ground—and wedged in among the splintered
branches. Evidently the amateur chauffeur had
in his excitement made a turn at the wrong
moment.
</p>
<p>
“Where’s your robbers?” demanded the farmer.
</p>
<p>
“They saw us coming and have run away,”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span>
declared Pep. “Mister, I want you to help me
further and I will pay you for it.”
</p>
<p>
“What doing?” inquired the man.
</p>
<p>
“As I told you, those men had stolen a lot
of valuables. They were in a little tin box. Just
as we were passing over the bridge here I saw my
chance to outwit them. I flung the box into the
river.”
</p>
<p>
“What!” exclaimed the farmer.
</p>
<p>
“Sounds like a fairy story,” remarked his son
skeptically.
</p>
<p>
“You find some more help, so if those fellows
show themselves we can beat them off or arrest
them,” observed Pep, “and I will prove what I
have told you and pay you well for your trouble.”
</p>
<p>
“Jabez, go and wake up the two hired men,”
directed his father.
</p>
<p>
“I’m a pretty good swimmer and diver,” said
Pep, after the boy had gone on his errand. “Is
the water very deep?”
</p>
<p>
“Six or eight feet.”
</p>
<p>
“Then the rake will help me,” said Pep, proceeding
to disrobe. He was stripped of his outer
garments by the time the boy Jabez had returned
with two sleepy-looking men. He was in the
water at once. First he probed with the rake.
Then he made a close estimate of the spot where
the box was likely to have landed and took a dive.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span>
</p>
<p>
Pep came to shore and rested for a few minutes.
Then he resumed his labors. After a long
time under water his head bobbed up. He uttered
a shout of satisfaction and waved aloft the
tin box, its dripping covering about it.
</p>
<p>
“All right,” he hailed.
</p>
<p>
“A good deal in it, I suppose?” spoke the farmer,
curiously regarding it.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, there is,” replied Pep. “Hold it,
please, mister, till I get my clothes on. I want
you to take me to Seaside Park right away—two
of you and the shotgun. If you’ll do it
you can charge your own price.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s fair,” nodded the farmer.
</p>
<p>
He got the rig in the barn ready and told the
two hired men they could go back to their beds.
They seemed, however, to have roused from their
sleepiness. Pep had told of a big fire in town,
and that had influenced them to accompany the
crowd, “just for the fun of the thing,” as they
expressed it.
</p>
<p>
Jabez drove, Pep holding the rescued box, the
farmer between them with his shotgun ready for
action. They saw nothing, however, of the robbers.
The latter seemed to have decamped. If
they were lurking in the vicinity, the sight of
superior numbers kept them from making any
demonstration.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span>
</p>
<p>
As they got nearer to the town the glare of the
distant fire was noted, and young Jabez whipped
up the horse and made good time. The building
on fire was pretty well consumed, but the fire
department had saved adjoining structures. Pep
directed Jabez to drive to the Wonderland by the
rear route. He noticed that the living rooms
were lighted up.
</p>
<p>
“Wait here for a minute,” directed Pep to
those in the wagon, dashing up the steps of the
playhouse with his precious box.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—A BIG REWARD</h2>
<p>
Pep burst in upon his friends filled to the brim
with excitement. His impetuous nature anticipated
a great welcome as he felt that he had done
a big thing. As he crossed the threshold of the
living room he found that his friends had apparently
just returned from the scene of the fire.
</p>
<p>
Frank and Randy were at the sink washing
the grime from their faces. As Pep learned
later, they and Jolly and Vincent had been busy
saving what goods they could from the burning
building. Jolly was brushing the cinders from
his coat with a whisk broom. Vincent was applying
some court plaster to a burn on the back of
his hand.
</p>
<p>
“There!” exclaimed Pep, planking the package
down upon the table with a flourish. “It’s
been some trouble, but I got it.”
</p>
<p>
“Hello, Pep,” said Jolly. “Got what, may I
ask?”
</p>
<p>
Pep felt rather hurt at the cool way in which
his return was greeted. He did not realize that
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span>
his friends were in ignorance of the burglarious
event of the hour, and his own sensational experiences.
He had just been missed and all hands
supposed that he was lingering at the scene of the
fire.
</p>
<p>
“Why, the box, of course,” almost snapped
Pep.
</p>
<p>
“What box?” questioned Randy.
</p>
<p>
Pep gave the wetted pillow case a jerk, freeing
it of its enclosure, and the little cash box was
disclosed.
</p>
<p>
“That box, of course,” he announced.
“What’s the matter with you fellows? I guess
you’ve been asleep while people have been stealing
from you!”
</p>
<p>
Frank advanced to the table, curiosity dawning
in his expression as he recognized the box.
</p>
<p>
“I don’t quite understand,” he remarked.
</p>
<p>
“Don’t?” resented Pep. “Well, you ought
to. Look at that,” and he exhibited the bump on
his head, received when one of the robbers had
knocked him across the room and against the
wall. “And that, too,” and Pep held up his chin
so the red marks on his throat showed. “Then,
too,” he continued, “half an hour ducking and
diving in the cold waters of a creek at midnight
is no grand fun, I can tell you!”
</p>
<p>
“Why, it looks as if our Pep has been up to
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span>
something,” observed Jolly, coming to the table.
</p>
<p>
“I’ve been down in front of the seat of an
automobile and half choked to death,” replied
Pep tartly. “I say, Frank, it was a good thing
that I didn’t run off and leave the place unprotected,
as you fellows did when that fire broke
out. Open the box and see if everything is all
right.”
</p>
<p>
The appearance of the box and Pep’s story
made Frank and the others grasp that he was discussing
something of importance not yet fully
explained.
</p>
<p>
“You had better commence at the beginning
all over again, Pep,” Frank advised, “and let us
know the whole story.”
</p>
<p>
It did not take Pep long to recite his recent
adventures. He had an interested audience.
Frank drew the key of the tin box from his
pocket when Pep had concluded his story. He
applied it to the lock.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, the mischief!” fairly shouted Pep, glancing
into it to find that all it contained was a collection
of pennies, nickels and dimes. “I’ve
been fooled, after all. These fellows rifled the
box in some way——”
</p>
<p>
“Not at all,” answered Frank, with a reassuring
smile. “It is my turn to explain, Pep.
When the fire broke out I thought instantly of
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span>
the cash box and the treasure it contained, so I
took out the bills and the necklace. Here they
are,” and Frank produced them from an inside
pocket of his coat.
</p>
<p>
“Then—then——” stammered Pep, taken
aback.
</p>
<p>
“Then you are just as much a hero as if you
had saved a whole bank of money!” cried Frank,
giving Pep a commending slap on the shoulder.
</p>
<p>
“It was a big thing you did, Pep,” declared
Randy enthusiastically.
</p>
<p>
Ben Jolly and Vincent added more approving
words, and Pep warmed up to his usual self at the
praise of his friends.
</p>
<p>
“There’s the fellows outside to settle with,” he
suggested.
</p>
<p>
“Glad to do it,” said Frank. “There must be
at least thirty dollars in the box, so you have
saved us a good deal, Pep.”
</p>
<p>
“Didn’t catch a weasel asleep when they came
in here!” chuckled Jolly in Pep’s ear. “You
taught them something this time.”
</p>
<p>
The farmer was very modest in his charges.
“Two dollars covered the damages,” he remarked,
“and seeing the fire was worth half of
that.”
</p>
<p>
It was getting well on to morning by the time
all hands were settled down. Vincent was the
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span>
last to go to bed. He had got a card out of his
pocket and said he had some business down town.
</p>
<p>
“It’s to send a message to the city officer who
took those two prisoners to New York on the last
train,” he explained to Frank. “Of course there
is no doubt that the necklace was part of the proceeds
of the burglary he arrested them for.”
</p>
<p>
“I think you are right,” agreed Frank.
</p>
<p>
A quiet day in reading and rest did wonders
in refreshing the tired out motion picture friends
after a week of unusual activity and excitement.
All were up bright and early Monday morning.
</p>
<p>
“I tell you, this is genuine office business,”
said Frank, as he rested at noon from continuous
labors at his desk.
</p>
<p>
“You take to it like a duck to water,” declared
Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Who wouldn’t, with the able corps of assistants
at my command?” challenged Frank. “Mr.
Vincent took Mr. Booth off my hands. He
knows the man much better than I do and, as he
expresses it, understands how to keep that visionary
individual in the traces. Pep and Randy
seem to have just the ability to get our new programme
into the very places we want them. Mr.
Vincent has sifted out the supply men as they
came along, and those letters you got off for me
took a big load off my shoulders, Mr. Jolly.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span>
</p>
<p>
“It all amounts to having a good machine and
starting it right,” insisted Jolly.
</p>
<p>
The boys felt a trifle anxious as it began to
cloud up about one o’clock. A few drops of rain
fell. It almost broke Pep’s heart, Randy declared,
to see people begin to scatter along the
beach and made their way to shelters, and the
hotels.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll try and stem the tide,” observed Vincent
smartly, as a bright idea seemed to strike him.
</p>
<p>
He dived into one of the bedrooms and reappeared
in his band costume, cornet in hand.
</p>
<p>
“Open the door, Pep,” he directed. “Never
mind routine this time—what we want to do is
to get the crowd.”
</p>
<p>
Vincent posted himself under the shelter of
the canopy that ran over the ticket booth. Soon
his instrument was in action. The delightful
music halted more than one hurrying group. The
inviting shelter beyond the open doors attracted
attention. The word went down the beach. The
shower would be over in an hour and here was a
fine place to spend the interim.
</p>
<p>
“Twenty minutes to two and the house nearly
full,” reported Pep gleefully, to Jolly at the
piano.
</p>
<p>
The shower was over in half an hour, but when
the first crowd passed out there was another one
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span>
ready to take its place. About half the seats
were occupied when the second entertainment began,
but during the programme as many more
came in. The last matinee could not accommodate
the crowd. The Wonderland caught the
throngs going to the boats and trains as well
as those arriving.
</p>
<p>
The boys and their friends were at supper
when there was a visitor. He proved to be the officer
from the city who had arrested the two burglars.
He had come in response to the telegram
Vincent had sent him. The latter told him
about the finding of the necklace and added the
story of Pep’s later adventures.
</p>
<p>
“The necklace is down at the bank in our safety
deposit box,” explained Vincent. “We didn’t
want to risk having it around here any longer.”
</p>
<p>
“I knew from the circumstances and your description
that it is part of the plunder I am after,”
said the city officer. “I wish you would meet
me at the hotel in the morning. I will have the
local police head there. As a mere formality the
goods will be delivered by you to him, who will
turn them over to me. Then I will give you an
order for your share of the reward.”
</p>
<p>
Randy pricked up his ears and Pep looked interested.
</p>
<p>
“How much is it?” inquired Vincent.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span>
</p>
<p>
“Five hundred dollars. I think it fair to divide
it; don’t you?”
</p>
<p>
“I know that will be very acceptable to our
young friends here,” assented Vincent, nodding
at Pep and Randy. “All the credit for finding
the necklace is theirs.”
</p>
<p>
Pep and Randy were considerably fluttered.
They had their heads together animatedly discussing
their good fortune as Vincent accompanied
his visitor to the door.
</p>
<p>
“I say, you lucky young fellows,” hailed the
ventriloquist airily, “what you going to do with
all that money?”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, Randy and I have settled that,” proclaimed
Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Have, eh?”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, sir. That two hundred and fifty dollars
goes into the capital fund of the Wonderland.”
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—THE BROKEN SIGN</h2>
<p>
“It blew big guns last night, fellows,” observed
Randy Powell.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, it has been working up to a storm for
several days,” said Ben Jolly, casting a weather
eye through the open window in the living room.
</p>
<p>
Breakfast had just been announced by Jolly
and as usual all were hustling about to put in an
appearance for the famous home-cooked meal.
</p>
<p>
“We mustn’t complain if we have a day or two
of showery weather, Pep,” spoke Frank.
</p>
<p>
“It means poor shows, though,” lamented
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“We can stand that,” replied Frank. “I
think we have been more than fortunate.”
</p>
<p>
“I should say so,” remarked Jolly—“six
shows a day and the house a clear average of
three-fourths filled.”
</p>
<p>
“How are our friends down at the National
doing, Pep?” inquired Vincent.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, so, so,” was the careless reply. “They
get their quota from the Midway crowd, which
we don’t want. My friend who works for them
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span>
says they let things go half right, quarrel among
themselves, and a few nights ago Peter Carrington
had a crowd of his boy friends in a private
box smoking cigarettes while the films were running.
Peter doesn’t speak to me now when we
meet.”
</p>
<p>
“I thought the building was coming down one
time last night,” spoke Jolly. “There was damage
done somewhere, for I heard a terrific crash
a little after midnight.”
</p>
<p>
“There won’t be many bathers to-day,” said
Vincent, glancing out at the breakers on the beach.
</p>
<p>
Pep finished his breakfast and went out to the
front of the building to take a look at things.
Just after he had opened the front doors his voice
rang excitedly through the playhouse.
</p>
<p>
“Frank—Randy—all of you. Come here,
quick!” Then as his friends trooped forward
obedient to his call he burst out: “It’s a blazing
shame!”
</p>
<p>
“What is, Pep?” inquired Frank.
</p>
<p>
“Look for yourself.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, say! who did that?” shouted Randy.
</p>
<p>
He and the others stood staring in dismay
at the walk, that was littered with glass, and then
at the wreck of the electric sign overhead, which
had cost them so much money and of which they
had been so proud.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span>
</p>
<p>
All that was left of it was “W—O—L—A—N—D”
and woeful, indeed, the dilapidated sign
looked. Broken bulbs and jagged ends of wires
trailed over its face. Two bricks lay at the edge
of the walk and the end of a third protruded from
the bottom of the sign.
</p>
<p>
Randy was nearly crying. Frank looked
pretty serious. Pep’s eyes were flashing, but he
maintained a grim silence as he went over to
the edge of the walk and picked up one of the
bricks.
</p>
<p>
“That was your ‘great guns’ you heard last
night,” observed Pep looking fighting mad.
“Those bricks were thrown purposely to smash
our sign. Why—and who by?”
</p>
<p>
There was not one in the group who could
not have voiced a justifiable suspicion, yet all
were silent.
</p>
<p>
“I think I know where that brick came from,”
proceeded Pep, trying to keep calm, but really
boiling over with wrath. “I’m going to find
out.”
</p>
<p>
Pep tarried not to discuss or explain. The
others stared after him as he marched down the
boardwalk in his headstrong way. Pep had in
mind a little heap of bricks he had seen two days
before. They were made of terra cotta, red in
color and one side glazed.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span>
</p>
<p>
It was at the National that Pep came to a halt.
Between the entrance and exit some attempt at
ornamenting the old building had been made.
There were two cement pillars and the space
between them had been tiled. At one side was a
plaster board and a few of the bricks that had
not been used. The workman on the job had not
yet tuckpointed the space he had covered, and had
left behind some of his material, a trowel and
other utilities.
</p>
<p>
Pep went over to the heap. He selected one
of the bricks and matched it to the one he carried
in his hand. He was standing thus when the
door of the National opened and three persons
came out. They were Peter Carrington, Greg
Grayson and Jack Beavers.
</p>
<p>
“Hello!” flared up Peter, as he caught sight
of Pep, “what are you snooping around here
for?”
</p>
<p>
“I’m running down the persons who smashed
our electric sign last night, and I’m fast getting
to them,” replied Pep. “Carrington, you’re a
pretty bad crowd, all of you, and I’m going to
make you some trouble.”
</p>
<p>
“What for? What about?” blustered Peter,
and then he flushed up as Pep waved the brick
before him.
</p>
<p>
“That brick and two others like it smashed
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span>
our sign,” he declared. “There probably isn’t
another lot of them in town except here.”
</p>
<p>
“Well, what of it?” demanded Greg Grayson,
sourly.
</p>
<p>
“I’m not talking to you,” retorted Pep. “We
did enough of that after your mean tricks at
Fairlands. Whoever smashed our sign did it
with some of your bricks. You needn’t tell me
they didn’t start out with them from here. There’s
plenty of stones along the beach for the casual
mischief maker. You’re trying to break up our
show. Soon as I get the proofs I’m after, I’ll
close yours and show you up to the public for
the measly crowd you are.”
</p>
<p>
“Say,” flared up Peter, “this is our property
and you get off of it, or——”
</p>
<p>
“Or you’ll what?” cried Pep, throwing down
the bricks and advancing doughtily.
</p>
<p>
“Easy, Carrington, easy,” broke in Jack Beavers
and he stepped between the belligerents,
“Don’t raise a row,” he pleaded with Pep.
“There’s enough going on that’s disagreeable
without any more added.” Then he followed
Pep as the latter went back to the street. “See
here, I don’t want any trouble with you people,”
he went on in an anxious way. “So far as I’m
concerned, I give you my word of honor I don’t
know the first thing about this sign business.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span>
</p>
<p>
Pep looked at the speaker’s face and was almost
tempted to believe him.
</p>
<p>
“You needn’t tell me!” he declared. “Those
fellows are a mean lot and they ought to be punished.”
</p>
<p>
Pep returned to the Wonderland with his tale.
Frank tried to quiet him, but Pep’s indignation
had got the better of him.
</p>
<p>
“If you can make certain that the National
crowd did this damage, we can make them pay
for it,” said Frank, “but I don’t want to proceed
on guesswork.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, you know as well as I do that they did
it, Frank Durham!” stormed Pep.
</p>
<p>
“I think they did, yes,” acknowledged Frank,
“but if we go to making any charges we cannot
prove Mrs. Carrington will hear of it, and I
don’t care to offend her. Drop it, Pep. We’ll
have to take our medicine this time. If it gets
too flagrant, then we will go to the authorities
with it.”
</p>
<p>
Pep was not fully satisfied, however. He managed
to see his friend who worked for the National
a little later, and tried to enlist his coöperation
in ferreting out the vandals who had damaged
the electric sign.
</p>
<p>
The latter could not be replaced entire without
sending to the city for some of the missing letters.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>
This, however, led to one beneficial result.
When the duplicate letters arrived some colored
bulbs accompanied them, a suggestion of Jolly.
Two nights later the brilliant sign invited and attracted
attention in its new varicolored dress,
showing up as the most conspicuous illumination
on the boardwalk.
</p>
<p>
The gusty, showery weather got down to a
chill unpleasant spell finally. On Thursday night
the Wonderland was running, but to rather slim
audiences. There were few venturesome visitors
to the beach in the daytime and the matinee entertainments
were curtailed.
</p>
<p>
That night, however, the Wonderland had
never had a more enthusiastic audience. It was
comprised of an entirely new crowd—people
themselves in the entertainment business and general
trade lines, who could pick only a slack
business period to seek enjoyment. They knew
what a good thing was when they saw it and their
generous approbation of the flood film and of
Hal Vincent’s ventriloquial acts with his dummies
made up for the lack of numbers.
</p>
<p>
“Fine thing!” said more than one.
</p>
<p>
When the second show began a good many
who had gone out came back again. A pelting
rain had set in, accompanied by a tearing wind.
Randy had to keep the window of the ticket
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span>
office closed as well as he could, and Pep shut
the roof ventilators.
</p>
<p>
It was in the middle of the last film that a great
gust of wind shook the building. In the midst
of it the echo of the service bell of the life saving
station down the beach reached the ears of
the audience. Many began to get nervous. Just
as the film closed there was a clatter and crash
and pieces of the broken skylight in the roof of
the playhouse clattered down.
</p>
<p>
There were cries and a general commotion.
Many arose to their feet. The rain began to
pour in from overhead.
</p>
<p>
At that critical moment Frank closed the projector
and shot on the lights.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE GREAT STORM</h2>
<p>
“We’re going to have a night of it.”
</p>
<p>
Ben Jolly spoke the words with a grim conviction
that had its effect upon his friends. Each
could realize for himself that they were face to
face with an emergency.
</p>
<p>
When the skylight was partly shattered by a
loose board blown across the surface of the roof,
and the pieces of shattered glass and rain came
beating down, the flood of illumination quieted
what might have been a panic. Jolly had jumped
to the piano stool.
</p>
<p>
“There is no danger,” he shouted—“just a
broken pane of glass of two.”
</p>
<p>
Then he had resumed his seat and dashed off
into a lively tune. People could see now that
they were in no immediate peril and could easily
get out. The dripping rain, however, dampered
their amusement ardor. There was a movement
for the exit and the last film was left unfinished.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span>
</p>
<p>
Frank had got to Randy as soon as he could.
He did not wish the report to get out that the
Wonderland was in any way unsafe, or have anyone
leave the place feeling that he had not got
his full money’s worth. He summoned Pep to
his assistance after giving Randy a quick direction.
The latter immediately proceeded to stamp
the date and the seal of the Wonderland across
some blank cards. Then he came out into the
entrance archway with the others.
</p>
<p>
“Here you are!” shouted the lively Pep.
“Everybody entitled to a free ticket. Good any
night this week on account of to-night’s storm.
Let no guilty man escape!”
</p>
<p>
“Ha! ha! very good.”
</p>
<p>
“This is liberal.”
</p>
<p>
The crowd was put in rare good humor by
Frank’s happy thought. The doors were left
open and those who did not wish to go out into
the pelting storm, were told they were welcome
to linger in the entrance and among the rear
seats until the rain let up. Meantime, however,
Jolly and Vincent were not idle. While their
young friends were coaxing the audience into
good humor, the former had found a ladder, of
which there were several about the place. Vincent
mounted it and got at the skylight.
</p>
<p>
It was pretty well broken and the wind threatened still
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span>
further damage. Jolly remembered a
large canvas tarpaulin in the cellar that had been
used by the painters. By the time the front of
the place was cleared of the people he and Vincent
had the skylight well battened down and
protected.
</p>
<p>
“We’re going to have a bad night,” he reported
as he came down the ladder dripping. “A
view of the beach from that roof to-night would
make a great moving picture.”
</p>
<p>
“I hope the storm won’t move us, Mr. Jolly,”
said Frank a trifle uneasily, as a fierce blast shook
the building.
</p>
<p>
There was nothing to do but to doubly secure
all the doors and windows. The roof of the living
room proved to be leaky, but the use of pans
and kettles to catch the water provided against
any real discomfort.
</p>
<p>
“I think we had all better stay up,” suggested
Jolly. “I was in one of these big coast storms
a few years ago and before the night was through
we had some work on hand, let me tell you.”
</p>
<p>
The speaker proceeded to light the gas stove,
put on some coffee to boil and then announced
that he was going to make some sandwiches.
This suited all hands. It seemed sort of cheery
to nest down in comfort and safety while the big
storm was blowing outside. Pep and Randy
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span>
began a game of checkers. Vincent was mending
one of his speaking dolls. Frank was busy
at his desk. They made quite a happy family
party, when all chorused the word:
</p>
<p>
“Hello!”
</p>
<p>
“Lights out,” observed Jolly, himself the center
of the only illumination in the room, proceeding
from the gas stove.
</p>
<p>
“The electric current has gone off, that’s sure,”
remarked Vincent. “That means trouble somewhere.”
</p>
<p>
They waited a few minutes, but the electric
lights did not come on.
</p>
<p>
“Light the gas, Randy” suggested Frank. “I
think we had better light one or two jets in the
playhouse, too, so we can see our way if any
trouble comes along.”
</p>
<p>
The playhouse was wired for electric lights,
but had a gas connection as well. The jet in the
living room was lighted.
</p>
<p>
Pep went out and set two jets going in the playhouse.
They heard him utter a cry of dismay.
Then he hailed briskly:
</p>
<p>
“Come out here. Something’s happened.”
</p>
<p>
They all rushed in from the living room.
Something had, indeed, happened. Pep stood in
half an inch of water, which was flowing in under
the front doors.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span>
</p>
<p>
“Why this rain must be a regular deluge!”
cried Randy.
</p>
<p>
“It’s not rain,” sharply contradicted Pep.
</p>
<p>
“What is it, then?”
</p>
<p>
“Salt water. Hear that—see that!.”
</p>
<p>
During a momentary hush they could hear a
long boom as if a giant wave was pounding the
beach. Then a great lot of water sluiced in
under the doors.
</p>
<p>
“Open up, Pep,” directed Frank, “we must
see to this right away.”
</p>
<p>
The moment the doors were opened a lot of
water flowed in. But for the incline it would
have swept clear over the floor of the playhouse.
Meeting the rise in the seats, however, it flowed
in about fifteen feet, soaking the matting and
coming nearly to the boys’ shoe tops. Then it
receded and dripped away over the platform outside.
</p>
<p>
All along the beach the electric lights were out,
but the incessant flashes of lightning lit the scene
bright as day. Here and there among the stores
lanterns were in use, even candles, and where
they had gas it was in full play.
</p>
<p>
The beach clear up to the boardwalk was a
seething pool now. Whenever a big swell came
in it dashed over the walk and beat against the
building lining it.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span>
</p>
<p>
“See here,” cried Randy in a great state of
perturbation, “there isn’t any danger of the
boardwalk going; is there?”
</p>
<p>
“Part of it is gone already down near the
slump,” declared Frank. “Look, you can see
the beach from here. I hope the waves won’t
upset any of the buildings.”
</p>
<p>
“They can’t, right here, Durham,” declared
Jolly promptly. “You see, there’s a drop from
us inland. The water will drain off, if it doesn’t
come in too heavy.”
</p>
<p>
“I’ll bet there’s trouble over on the flats,” suggested
Randy. “See the lights moving around.”
</p>
<p>
“Lock the doors, Pep,” spoke Jolly. “We’ll
take a look around and see just how bad things
are.”
</p>
<p>
It was no easy task maintaining their footing
on the boardwalk, for it was slippery and at
places gave where it had been undermined. Once
a big wave swept over the exploring party and
threw them in a heap against a building. People
came running past them from the lower level of
the Midway.
</p>
<p>
They could hear the life saving corps yelling
orders and the storm bell sounding out constantly
in the distance. It was as they came to the street
that cut down past the National, that Frank and
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>
his friends paused to survey a scene of great excitement.
</p>
<p>
The street, as has been already noted, dropped
away from the boardwalk to a depression fully
twenty feet below its level. This made it a natural
outlet, not only for the waves that beat up
over the boardwalk, but also for what drained
laterally on both sides.
</p>
<p>
“Why, it’s like a regular water course,” declared
Frank. “I say, there’s someone needing
help.”
</p>
<p>
“Just look at the National!” exclaimed Pep,
as they returned from carrying some crying
children away from the menace of the flood.
</p>
<p>
The rival playhouse stood at the lowest part
of the depression. A long platform ran to its
entrance. This was fully four feet under water
and the lower story of the place was two steps
lower down. Here the surplus water had gathered,
growing deeper every minute. The street
in front was impassable, and running two ways
a veritable river, which cut off the National as
if it was an island.
</p>
<p>
“I hope no one is in it,” said Frank.
</p>
<p>
“But there is!” cried Randy. “Look, Frank—that
window at the side. Some one is clinging
to the window frame.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span>
</p>
<p>
The flashes of lightning, indeed showed a forlorn
figure at the spot Randy indicated. And
then Vincent, after staring hard, cut in with the
sharp announcement:
</p>
<p>
“It’s certainly Jack Beavers!”
</p>
<p>
“Hey, you!” yelled Pep, making a speaking
trumpet of his hands and signaling Peter Carrington’s
partner. “Help me fellows,” and Pep
sprang upon a platform that had drifted away
from its original place in front of some store.
</p>
<p>
Frank was beside him in a moment. Randy
had got Jolly to help him tear loose a scantling
from a step protection. He joined the others,
using the board to push their unstable float along.
</p>
<p>
The water was over six feet deep and the
scantling was not much help. A great gust of
wind whirled them ten feet nearer to the playhouse
building. At the same time it blew over
the chimney on its top.
</p>
<p>
The boys saw the loosened bricks shower down
past the clinging form in the window.
</p>
<p>
“He’s hit!” shouted Pep. “He’s gone
down!”
</p>
<p>
Jack Beavers fell forward like a clod and disappeared
under the swirling flood. In an instant
the motion picture chums acted on a common
impulse and leaped into the water after him.
</p>
<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—CONCLUSION</h2>
<p>
It was a moment of great suspense for Ben
Jolly and the ventriloquist as, without a moment’s
hesitation, the three motion picture chums dived
from their frail raft. The surface of the flood
was so strewn with pieces of floating wreckage—the
bottom and sides of the newly formed water
way so treacherous—that it was a tremendous
risk to get into that swirling vortex.
</p>
<p>
Frank and his companions were no novices in
the water. They saw that Jack Beavers had been
struck down from the window sill by the falling
bricks, and had probably been knocked senseless.
Almost immediately after diving the heads of the
boys appeared on the surface.
</p>
<p>
“Got him!” puffed Randy.
</p>
<p>
“Lift him up,” directed Frank, swinging out
one hand and catching at a protruding window
sill of the building. This purchase gained, all
exerted themselves to drag up the limp and sodden
form of Peter Carrington’s partner. Frank
and Randy kept the upper part of the man’s body
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span>
out of the water. Pep swam after the floating
platform they had used a a raft. Jack Beavers,
apparently more dead than alive, was placed upon
it. His rescuers pushed this over to where the
water was shallow and then carried the man into
a drug store fronting the boardwalk.
</p>
<p>
“I suppose I had better stay with him,” observed
Vincent, as Beavers, after some attention
from a physician who happened to be in the drug
store, showed signs of recovery. “I know him
the best, although I can’t say truthfully that I
like him the best.”
</p>
<p>
“Yes, he’s struck hard lines, and it’s a sort of
duty to look after him,” said Ben Jolly.
</p>
<p>
He and the boys put in nearly two hours helping
this and that group in distress among the
storekeepers of the slump. They got back to
the Wonderland to find that its superior location
had saved it from damage of any consequence.
</p>
<p>
A wild morning was ushered in with a chill
northeaster. Daylight showed the beach covered
with wrecked boats and habitations. The tents
over on the Midway were nearly all down. The
National was still flooded and the street in front
of it impassable. Very few of the frame buildings,
however, had been undermined.
</p>
<p>
The worst of the storm was over by afternoon, but no
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>
entertainment was given until the
next evening. A big transparency announced a
flood benefit, and five thousand dodgers telling
about it were circulated over the town.
</p>
<p>
It was a gala night for the Wonderland. There
were few of the minor beach shows as yet in
condition to resume operations, and after twenty-four
hours of storm everybody seemed out.
</p>
<p>
“At least seventy-five dollars for the benefit
of the poor families down on the beach,” observed
Pep. “Say, let me run down and tell
them. It will warm their hearts, just as it does
mine.”
</p>
<p>
“All right,” acceded Frank. “I guess you can
promise them that much, Pep.”
</p>
<p>
Frank and Jolly stood in front of the playhouse
talking over affairs in general as Pep
darted away on his mission of charity. A well-dressed
man whom Jolly had noticed in the audience,
and one of the last to leave the place, had
loitered around the entrance. Now he advanced
towards them.
</p>
<p>
“Is there a young man named Smith connected
with your show?” he inquired.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, sir,” replied Frank. “He has gone on
a brief errand, but will soon return.”
</p>
<p>
“I’ll wait for him,” said the stranger, and he
sat down on the side railing.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span>
</p>
<p>
Frank went inside as Randy appeared with his
cash box. Jolly remained where he was. Finally
Pep came into view briskly, happy faced and excited.
</p>
<p>
“Some one to see you—that man over there,”
advised Jolly.
</p>
<p>
“Is that so? Stranger to me. Want to see
me?” he went on, approaching the stranger.
</p>
<p>
“If you are Pepperill Smith.”
</p>
<p>
“That’s my name,” vouchsafed Pep.
</p>
<p>
“The same young man who was the guest of
Mr. Tyson at Brenton?”
</p>
<p>
“Guest!” retorted Pep, in high scorn. “Oh,
yes, I was a guest! Fired me the first time he
got mad.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, well, we all have spells of temper we are
sorry for afterwards,” declared the man
smoothly.
</p>
<p>
“Is Mr. Tyson sorry?” challenged Pep.
</p>
<p>
“He is, for a fact. You see—well, he gave
you some papers, cheap stocks or bonds; didn’t
he, instead of cash for your services? He
thought maybe you’d rather have the money.
I’ve got a one hundred dollar bill for you. If
those papers are lying around loose you might
hand them over to me.”
</p>
<p>
“I haven’t got them,” said Pep, and the man
looked disappointed. “Maybe my friend preserved them.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span>
Oh, Mr. Jolly,” and Pep called the
pianist over to them and explained the situation.
</p>
<p>
“H’m!” commented Jolly thoughtfully, when
Pep had concluded his story, and glancing keenly
at the stranger, “you seem to have discovered
some value to the stock you refer to.”
</p>
<p>
“Oh, I suppose these stock brokers know how
to juggle them along,” responded the stranger,
with assumed lightness.
</p>
<p>
“Well, as I understand it, they were given to
my friend Smith.”
</p>
<p>
“Undoubtedly—why, yes, that is true.”
</p>
<p>
“As their custodian,” continued Jolly, “I want
to look into this matter.”
</p>
<p>
“I wouldn’t. Waste of time. All a tangle,”
insisted the stranger. “Look here, let me give
the boy two hundred dollars.”
</p>
<p>
“You can give Pep all you want to,” observed
Jolly, “but I shall advise him to see how the
market stands on that stock before he delivers
those securities.”
</p>
<p>
“Hum! ha! quite so,” mumbled the stranger
in a crestfallen way.
</p>
<p>
“And we will let Mr. Tyson know our decision
in a day or two.”
</p>
<p>
“I see—well, I will report the result of my
negotiation to my client.”
</p>
<p>
“Negotiation? Aha! Client? A lawyer,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span>
then,” observed Jolly, as the man reluctantly
moved away. “Pep Smith, I’ll investigate that
stock of yours with the first break of dawn.
There’s something more to this than appears on
the surface.”
</p>
<hr class='tb' />
<p>
“Wasn’t that Jack Beavers I just saw you talking
to?” inquired Hal Vincent of Frank, as the
latter approached him on the boardwalk.
</p>
<p>
“Yes, poor fellow,” replied Frank. “I have
been having quite a conversation with him.”
</p>
<p>
“Making a poor mouth about his misfortunes,
I suppose?” intimated the ventriloquist.
</p>
<p>
“Not at all, Mr. Vincent,” explained Frank
soberly. “He is all broken up, but more with
gratitude towards us for saving his life the night
of the storm than anything else. He acts and
talks like a new man. Peter Carrington and
Greg Grayson left him in the lurch with a lot
of debts, and he is trying to get on his feet
again.”
</p>
<p>
“In what way?”
</p>
<p>
“Some friend has happened along and is willing
to fix things up at the National. He came to
me to say that he felt he had no right to come
into competition with us, after owing his very
existence to our efforts the other night.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span>
</p>
<p>
“What did you tell him, Durham?”
</p>
<p>
“I told him to go ahead and make a man of
himself and a success of the show, and that he
need expect nothing but honest business rivalry
from us.”
</p>
<p>
“Durham,” spoke the ventriloquist with considerable
feeling, “you’re pure gold!”
</p>
<p>
The bustling pianist appeared on the scene all
smiles and serenity at that moment.
</p>
<p>
“Where’s Pep Smith?” he inquired.
</p>
<p>
“Up at the playhouse.”
</p>
<p>
“That so? All right. Come along, and see
me give him the surprise of his life. You know
I went down to Brenton to see Mr. Tyson about
that stock? Well, I’m back—minus the stock.
I’ve got something better. Look there.”
</p>
<p>
Ben Jolly held a certified check before the dazzled
eyes of his friends. It read: “Pay to the
order of Pepperill Smith Two Thousand Dollars.”
</p>
<p>
“This good fortune will about turn Pep’s
head,” declared Frank Durham.
</p>
<p>
“Why, those shrewd fellows will get double
that out of it,” said Jolly. “It seems that the
company is on the rocks, but a reorganization is
being attempted and it can’t be put through without
a majority of the stock. Pep’s holdings fit in
snugly, so they had to pay me my price.”
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span>
</p>
<p>
Pep Smith gasped as Jolly recounted all this
over again to him in the living room back of the
photo playhouse.
</p>
<p>
“What are you going to do with all that
money, Pep?” inquired Randy.
</p>
<p>
Pep waved the precious bit of paper gaily and
jumped to his feet with glowing eyes.
</p>
<p>
“What am I going to do with it?” he cried.
“And what could I do but put it into the Wonderland
business fund! Why, just think of it!
When the season is over at Seaside Park we have
got to look for a new location; haven’t we?”
</p>
<p>
“That’s sure,” agreed Ben Jolly. “You boys
have made a success of the motion picture business
so far and I want to see you keep it up.”
</p>
<p>
And so, with both playhouses in the full tide
of prosperity, we bid good-bye to our ambitious
young friends, to meet again in another story to
be called: “The Motion Picture Chums on Broadway;
Or, The Mystery of the Missing Cash Box.”
</p>
<p>
“My, but we have been lucky!” declared
Randy.
</p>
<p>
“That’s what,” added Pep.
</p>
<p>
“Well, we’ve had to work for our success,”
came from Frank.
</p>
<div class='center'>
<p>THE END</p>
</div>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<p>
<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE TOM SWIFT SERIES</span>
</p>
<p>
By VICTOR APPLETON
</p>
<p>
12mo CLOTH, ILLUSTRATED. PRICE PER VOLUME 40 CENTS, POSTPAID
</p>
<p>
These spirited tales convey in a realistic way the wonderful advances
in land and sea locomotion. Stories like these are impressed
upon the youthful memory and their reading is productive only of
good.
</p>
<p>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE<br />
Or Fun and Adventure on the Road<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT<br />
Or The Rivals of Lake Carlopa<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP<br />
Or The Stirring Cruise of the Red Cloud<br />
 <br/>
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Or Under the Ocean for Sunken Treasure<br />
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Or The Speediest Car on the Road<br />
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TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS<br />
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 <br/>
TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE<br />
Or The Wreck of the Airship<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER<br />
Or The Quickest Flight on Record<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE<br />
Or Daring Adventures in Elephant Land<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD<br />
Or Marvelous Adventures Underground<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER<br />
Or Seeking the Platinum Treasure<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY<br />
Or A Daring Escape by Airship<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA<br />
Or The Perils of Moving Picture Taking<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT<br />
Or On the Border for Uncle Sam<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON<br />
Or The Longest Shots on Record<br />
 <br/>
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE<br />
Or The Picture that Saved a Fortune<br />
</p>
<p>
Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York
</p>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<p>
<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH SERIES</span>
</p>
<p>
By GRAHAM B. FORBES
</p>
<p>
Never was there a cleaner, brighter, more manly boy
than Frank Allen, the hero of this series of boys’ tales,
and never was there a better crowd of lads to associate
with than the students of the School. All boys will read
these stories with deep interest. The rivalry between the
towns along the river was of the keenest, and plots and
counterplots to win the championships, at baseball, at
football, at boat racing, at track athletics, and at ice
hockey, were without number. Any lad reading one
volume of this series will surely want the others.
</p>
<p>
<b>The Boys of Columbia High;</b><br />
Or The All Around Rivals of the School.<br />
 <br/>
<b>The Boys of Columbia High on the Diamond;</b><br />
Or Winning Out by Pluck.<br />
 <br/>
<b>The Boys of Columbia High on the River;</b><br />
Or The Boat Race Plot that Failed.<br />
 <br/>
<b>The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron;</b><br />
Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup.<br />
 <br/>
<b>The Beys of Columbia High on the Ice;</b><br />
Or Out for the Hockey Championship.<br />
</p>
<p>
12mo. Illustrated.
</p>
<p>
Handsomely bound in cloth, with cover design and wrappers in colors.
</p>
<p>
Price, 40 cents per volume.
</p>
<p>
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
</p>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<p>
<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES</span>
</p>
<p>
By CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
</p>
<p>
The outdoor chums are four wide-awake lads, sons of
wealthy men of a small city located on a lake. The boys
love outdoor life, and are greatly interested in hunting,
fishing, and picture taking. They have motor cycles,
motor boats, canoes, etc., and during their vacations go
everywhere and have all sorts of thrilling adventures.
The stories give full directions for camping out, how to
fish, how to hunt wild animals and prepare the skins for
stuffing, how to manage a canoe, how to swim, etc. Full
of the very spirit of outdoor life.
</p>
<p>
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS<br />
Or, The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.<br />
 <br/>
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE<br />
Or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island.<br />
 <br/>
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST<br />
Or, Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge.<br />
 <br/>
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE GULF<br />
Or, Rescuing the Lost Balloonists.<br />
 <br/>
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME<br />
Or, Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness.<br />
</p>
<p>
12mo. Averaging 240 pages. Illustrated.
Handsomely bound in Cloth.
</p>
<p>
Price, 40 Cents per Volume
</p>
<p>
GROSSET & DUNLAP, NEW YORK
</p>
<p>
 <br />
 <br />
 <br />
</p>
<p>
<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE RISE IN LIFE SERIES</span>
</p>
<p>
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
</p>
<p>
These are Copyrighted Stories which cannot be obtained elsewhere.
They are the stories last written by this famous author.
</p>
<p>
12mo. Illustrated.
</p>
<p>
Bound in cloth, stamped in colored inks.
</p>
<p>
Price, 40 Cents per Volume, Postpaid.
</p>
<p>
THE YOUNG BOOK AGENT, Or Frank Hardy’s Road to Success
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
A plain but uncommonly interesting tale of everyday life, describing
the ups and downs of a boy book-agent.
</p>
<p>
FROM FARM TO FORTUNE, Or Nat Nason’s Strange Experience
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
Nat was a poor country lad. Work on the farm was hard, and after a
quarrel with his uncle, with whom he resided, he struck out for himself.
</p>
<p>
OUT FOR BUSINESS, Or Robert Frost’s Strange Career
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
Relates the adventures of a country boy who is compelled to leave home
and seek his fortune in the great world at large.
</p>
<p>
FALLING IN WITH FORTUNE, Or The Experiences of a Young Secretary
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
This is a companion tale to “Out for Business,” but complete in itself,
and tells of the further doings of Robert Frost as private secretary.
</p>
<p>
YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK, Or The Son of a Soldier
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
The scene is laid in the South during the Civil War, and the hero is a
waif who was cast up by the sea and adopted by a rich Southern planter.
</p>
<p>
NELSON THE NEWSBOY, Or Afloat in New York
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
Mr. Alger is always at his best in the portrayal of life in New York
City, and this story is among the best he has given our young readers.
</p>
<p>
LOST AT SEA, Or Robert Roscoe’s Strange Cruise
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
A sea story of uncommon interest. The hero falls in with a strange
derelict—a ship given over to the wild animals of a menagerie.
</p>
<p>
JERRY, THE BACKWOODS BOY, Or the Parkhurst Treasure
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
Depicts life on a farm of New York State. The mystery of the treasure
will fascinate every boy. Jerry is a character well worth knowing.
</p>
<p>
RANDY OF THE RIVER, Or the adventures of a Young Deckhand
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
Life on a river steamboat is not so romantic as some young people may
imagine, but Randy Thompson wanted work and took what was offered.
</p>
<p>
JOE, THE HOTEL BOY, Or Winning Out by Pluck.
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
A graphic account of the adventures of a country boy in the city.
</p>
<p>
BEN LOGAN’S TRIUMPH, Or The Boys of Boxwood Academy
</p>
<p style='margin-left: 2em;'>
The trials and triumphs of a city newsboy in the country.
</p>
<p>
GROSSET & DUNLAP, NEW YORK
</p>
<pre>
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