™Movieboys 
 easide Park. 
 
 by Victor Appleton 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
- 
 
 fe 
 
 ae 
 
 ca 
 
 an 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The Movie Boys 
 at Seaside Park 
 
 OR 
 
 The Rival Photo Houses 
 of the Boardwalk 
 
 BY 
 
 VICTOR APPLETON 
 
 Author of “The Movie Boys inthe Jungle,” “The 
 Movie Boys’ First Showhouse,” “The 
 Movie Boys Under Fire,” etc. 
 
 
 
 GarpeEn City New York 
 GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, Inc. 
 1926 
 
THE FAMOUS MOVIE BOYS 
 SERIES 
 
 BY 
 VICTOR APPLETON 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 See back of book for list of tttles 
 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913, 1926, BY 
 GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC. 
 
THE MOVIE BOYS 
 AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 LOOKING FOR BUSINESS 
 
 “ Boys, this is just the spot we are looking 
 LOE. 
 
 “Yes, [ am sure a good photo playhouse on 
 this boardwalk would pay.” 
 
 It was Frank Durham who made the first dec- 
 laration 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: | 
 “The very thing!” 
 
 The three chums had arrived at Seaside Park 
 only that morning. Their home was at Fair- 
 lands, one hundred and fifty miles west. 
 Everything was new to them and there was cer- 
 
 tainly enough variety, excitement and commo- 
 zr 
 
2. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE, PARK 
 
 tion to satisfy any lively lad. They had, how- 
 ever, come for something else than pleasure. 
 They had a distinct purpose in view, and Frank’s 
 remarks brought it up. 
 
 Seaside Park was a very popular ocean resort. 
 It was a trim little town with a normal popula- 
 tion 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 conveni- 
 ence 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. 
 
 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 stu- 
 diously 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 where- 
 ever a show place attracted his attention. Now 
 all three had halted in front of an unoccupied 
 building and were looking it over critically. 
 
 “T say, fellows,” observed Frank, “this is 
 worth looking into.” 
 
LOOKING FOR BUSINESS 3 
 
 ** It’s certainly a fine location,’ added Randy. 
 
 “Just made for us,” piped the exuberant Pep. 
 
 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. 
 
 “Hi, this way!’ suddenly hailed the active 
 Pep. “The door isn’t locked.” 
 
 “That’s great,” spoke Randy. “I want to 
 see what the inside looks like.” 
 
 * Hello, there!” called out a man’s voice as 
 they stepped over the threshold of the broad 
 double doorway. 
 
 *‘ Hello yourself, mister,” retorted Pep cheer- 
 ily, “ we were sort of interested in the place and 
 wanted to look it over.” 
 
 Frank stepped forward. The man who had 
 challenged them was in his shirt sleeves, work- 
 ing at a plank over two wooden horses mending 
 some wire screens. 
 
 * We are looking over the beach with the idea 
 of finding a good location for a show,’ Frank 
 explained. : 
 
 “What kind of a show?” inquired the man, 
 studying the trio sharply. 
 
4 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “ Motion picture.” 
 
 “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?” 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “Is thet 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.” 
 
 “What was it used for before?” inquired 
 Frank. 
 
 “Bowling alley, once. Then a man tried an 
 ice cream parlor, but there was too much compe- 
 tition. Last season.a man put in a penny arcade, 
 but that caught only the cheap trade and not 
 much of that.” 
 
 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 
 
LOOKING FOR BUSINESS 5 
 Pep, who joined him at a window, as if looking 
 casually over the surroundings of the vacant 
 place. 
 
 ** See here, fellows,’ Frank said, “it looks as 
 though we had stumbled upon a fine opportu- 
 nity.” 
 
 “Splendid!” voiced Randy. 
 
 “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. Ill have to 
 get an assistant usher and——” 
 
 “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.”’ 
 
 “Find out what the rent is; won't you, 
 Frank?” pressed Randy. 
 
 “There’s no harm in that,” replied Frank. 
 
 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. 
 
 
 
6 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 ‘“‘ What is it, Frank?” queried Randy, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 “ The rent isn’t half what I expected it to be.” 
 
 nGood!"? cried: Pep: 
 
 ** But it’s high enough to consider in a careful 
 way. Then again the owner of the building in- 
 sists 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 phote 
 plays. It’s going to cost a lot of money to start 
 a playhouse here, and we can’t decide in a mo- 
 ment.”’ 
 
 “How many other motion picture shows are 
 there in Seaside Park, Frank?” inquired Pep. 
 
 * None.” 
 
 Both Randy and Pep were surprised at this 
 statement and told Frank so. 
 
 “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 sea- 
 son—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 situ- 
 ated, and I think he has taken quite a liking to us 
 
LOOKING FOR BUSINESS 7 
 
 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.” 
 
 “ What—in advance?’ exclaimed Randy. 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “Humph!” commented Pep. “ Why doesn’t 
 he make us buy the place and be done with it?”’ 
 
 “ Well, if we start in we're going to stick; 
 arent we?” propounded Randy. “So it’s sim- 
 ply a question of raising enough money.” 
 
 “Mr. Morton says that along Beach Row 
 there is nothing in the way of first-class amuse- 
 ments,’ Frank went on. “ There’s a merry-go- 
 round and a summer garden with a band and 
 some few cheap side shows.” ~ 
 
 “Then we would have the field all to our- 
 selves,” submitted Randy. 
 
 “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 even- 
 ing, fellows. In the meantime we'll take in the 
 
8. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 many sights and post ourselves on the prospects.” 
 
 ““T do hope we'll be able to get that place,” 
 siad 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.” 
 
 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. 
 
 ‘That would make a fine motion picture; eh?” 
 suggested Randy, his mind always on business. 
 
 “Yes, and so would that!” shou es 
 “Jumping crickets! Fellows—look!’ 
 
 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. 
 
 “What's happened, I wonder 
 Randy. 
 
 ‘‘T saw it!” interrupted an excited bather, 
 who had ran out of the water. “ A! motor boat 
 has blown up!” 
 
 “Then those on board must be in danger of 
 burning or drowning, boys,” shouted Frank. 
 
 >? 
 
 “To the rescue! 
 
 
 
 began 
 
CHAPTER II 
 THE MOTOR BOAT 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ac- 
 tual 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. 
 
 In fact, while the boys had regular duties, 
 such as acting as caddies for golfers, as guides 
 and chauffeurs, the proprietor of the resort ex- 
 pected 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 ac- 
 
 9 
 
10 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 tion, and knowing how to do just the right thing 
 at just the right time, would be useful in safe- 
 guarding property and human life. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 peo- 
 ple in peril on the motor boat it must come 
 speedily to be of any avail.’ 
 
 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 
 
THE MOTOR BOAT If 
 
 stood nearby, glancing through his gold-rimmed 
 eyeglasses toward the beach, as if impatient of 
 something. 
 
 “Mister,” shot out Frank, breathlessly, “is 
 this your craft?” 
 
 “It is,” replied the gentleman. “I am wait- 
 ing for my man to come and run me down to 
 Rock Point.” | 
 
 “Did you see that?” inquired Frank, rapidly, 
 pointing to the burning motor boat. 
 
 “Why, I declare—I hadn't!” exclaimed the 
 man, taking a survey of the point in the distance 
 indicated by Frank. ‘“‘ What can have hap- 
 pened?” 
 
 “An explosion, sir,” explained Frank. ‘“ You 
 see, they must have help.” 
 
 “Where is that laggard man of mine?” cried 
 the owner of the launch, growing excited. “If 
 he would come we might do something.” 
 
 “Let me take your launch,” pressed Frank, 
 eagerly. 
 
 “Do you know how to run it?” 
 
 "Oh; yes, sir.” 
 
 “I don’t. Do your best, lad. You must 
 hurry. The boat is burning fiercely.” 
 
 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 
 
{2 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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. 
 
 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 him- 
 self, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 (In another volume of this series, entitled, 
 “The Movie Boys’ First Showhouse”’; or ‘‘ Fighting 
 for a Foothold in Fairlands,” their adventures and 
 experiences have been given in a way that showed 
 
THE MOTOR BOAT 13 
 
 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. 
 
 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 “ Wonder- 
 land” in the busy little town where they lived. 
 
 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. 
 
 They had enemies, too, and the son of a Fair- 
 lands magnate named Greg Grayson had caused 
 them a good deal of trouble and had tried to 
 break up their show. Perseverance, hard work 
 
14 PICTURE CHUMS MAT SEASIDE PARE 
 
 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. 
 
 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, in- 
 deed. 
 
 Right in the midst of their business delibera- 
 tions the incident just related had now come up. 
 All three of the boys had answered the call of 
 humanity without an instant’s hesitation. 
 
 Frank forgot everything except the business in 
 hand as he set eyes, mind and nerve upon reach- 
 ing 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 
 
THE MOTOR BOAT 15 
 
 expert young cngineer set the lever another 
 notch forward, and sent the craft slipping 
 through the water like a dolphin. 
 
 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, how- 
 ever, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 ““He’s a coward, besides being a cad,” invol- 
 untarily flashed through Frank’s mind. Then he 
 made the launch swerve, and shouted to the occu: 
 pants of the motor boat: 
 
 * All ready!” 
 
10 PICTURE. CHUMS AT SEASIDE Paks 
 
 Frank, with his experience of the past, cal- 
 culated 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. 
 
 “ Ouick, Mrs. Carrington,” he spoke to the 
 older lady, “get aboard the launch as fast as 
 you can.” | 
 
 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. 
 
 ** 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. 
 
 “You are just in time,” gasped the man in 
 charge of the motor boat. “ Don’t risk the 
 flames, but pull away.” 
 
 “Yes, there is nothing to be done in the way 
 of putting out the fire,” said Frank. ; 
 
 The man he spoke to was both worried and 
 fin 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. 
 
THE MOTOR BOAT 17 
 
 “Tt is Peter!” she screamed. ‘Oh, savé 
 Peter!” 
 
 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. How- 
 ever, 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. 
 
 “Till take care of him,” shouted Pep to 
 Frank, “and here’s Randy in the skiff.” 
 
 Frank saw Randy making for the spot, and as 
 Pep grasped the side of the floating box the skiff 
 ‘came alongside. 3 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “What did you leave her for?” demanded 
 Pep, firing up. , 
 
 “Huh! Think I want to get drowned?” 
 whimpered the other. 
 
 Pep helped the scared youth into the skiff, 
 drew himself over its edge, and directed just one 
 remark to the rescued lad. 
 
 * Say!” he observed, indignantly. “I'd just 
 like to kick you.” 
 
CHAPTER III 
 SHORT OF FUNDS 
 
 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. 
 
 While she lay limp and exhausted, the young 
 lady with her mopped her head with a handker- 
 chief 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. 
 
 ** That’s the last of her,” he remarked, with a 
 sigh, 
 
 “Yes,” responded Frank, “‘we couldn’t do 
 anything toward saving her.” 
 
 “J 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 en- 
 
 tirely unmanageable, her companion can’t swim, 
 18 
 
SHORT OF FUNDS 19 
 
 and of course I wouldn’t leave them to perish.’’ 
 
 “The stout lady is Mrs. Carrington, I sup- 
 pose?” asked Frank. 
 
 “That’s right.” 
 
 *‘ And Peter, I suppose, is the brave young man 
 who jumped overboard with the float? ”’ 
 
 “ 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.” 
 
 “He hasn’t shown himself to be very valiant 
 or courageous,’ commented Frank. 
 
 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 help- 
 less Mrs. Carrington. Peter, safe and sound 
 now, leaped aboard the launch with the assur- 
 ance of an admiral. : 
 
 “Hey, officer,’ he hailed the man, “ get a con- 
 veyance for the party as quick as you can.” 
 
 “Suppose you do it yourself?”’ growled the 
 motor boat man, looking as if he would like to 
 give Peter a good thrashing. 
 
20° PICTURE CHUMS VAT SHASIDE PARK 
 
 “Me? In this rig? Oh, dear, no!’ retorted 
 the shocked. Peter. “‘ 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. 
 
 *‘He makes me sick!” blurted out the motor 
 boat man. 
 
 The young lady who was ‘euphetaee Mrs. Car- 
 rington leaned toward Frank. Her face ex- 
 pressed the respect and admiration she felt for 
 their rescuer. 
 
 ‘We can never thank you enough for your 
 prompt service,’ she said, in a voice that trem- 
 bled a trifle from excitement. 
 
 “T am glad I was within call,” replied Frank, 
 modestly. 
 
 * Won't you kindly give me your name?” 
 quired 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.” 
 
 “My name is Frank Durham,’ replied our 
 hero. ‘My chums in the little boat are Ran- 
 dolph Powell and Pepperill Smith.” 
 
 **So you live here at Seaside Park? Where 
 
SHORT OF FUNDS 21 
 
 can Mrs. Carrington send you word, for I am 
 positive she will wish to see you?” 
 
 “We may stay here until to-morrow—I can- 
 not tell,” explained Frank. “If we do, I think 
 we will be at the Beach Hotel.” | 
 
 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 ex- 
 tended 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. 
 
 “Hey!” yelled Pep after him, doubling his 
 fists. “Thank you!” 
 
 The motor boat man grasped Frank’s hand 
 with honest thankfulness in his eyes. 
 
 “T shan’t forget you very soon,” he said with — 
 genuine feeling. | 
 
 “Did the.boat belong to you?” asked Frank. 
 
 “Yes, I own two motor boats here,” explained 
 the man, “and run them for just such parties as 
 you see.” 
 
 “The explosion will cause you some money 
 loss.” 
 
22) PICTURE: CHUMS)| AT SEASIDE Are 
 
 “T 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 
 tight thing and not leave all the loss on a poor 
 man like myself.” 
 
 “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. 3 | 
 
 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, fo- 
 cussing a camera upon the launch. He took a 
 snap shot and waved his hand with an admiring 
 gesture at its operator. 
 
 “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.” 
 
 Frank felt pleased over his efforts to be help- — 
 ful to others. He was too boyish and ingenu- 
 ous not to suffer some embarrassment as he 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 passed flute groups staring after him. Such re- 
 om marks as “That’s him!’ “There he goes!” Ae 
 “Plucky fellow!” and the like greeted his hear- a 
 ing and made‘him blush consciously. 3 
 
 great rate. ree 
 _ “What’s the trouble, Pep?’ hailed Frank, 
 “Trouble! Say, whenever I think of my ame 
 Be chance to duck that cheap cad we took aboard ha 
 & ‘the skiff I want to lam myself. ‘Jumped over- = 
 ay to hurry for help,’ he claimed. Then oe 
 
 
 
 
 
 Pp ee 
 
 
 
 Ve That suits,” nodded Randy. “The man of- 
 
24 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK — 
 
 fered a double room on the top floor for a dollar, 
 and we can pick up our meals outside.” 
 
 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. : 
 
 ** 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. 
 
 “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!” 
 
 “J agree with you that it looks very prom- 
 ising,” decided Frank. “We must do some close 
 figuring, fellows.” 
 
 “Let’s go inside and look the building over 
 again,” suggested Pep, and this they did. 
 
 “Why, hello!” instantly exclaimed the owner. 
 *¢ Back again? ” 
 
 “Yes, Mr. Morton,” replied Frank, pleasantly. 
 
 ** Shake!” cried the old fellow, dropping a 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘oS He A, iat 
 geaae Rg has oi See 
 SZ A, ri i | S 
 coi ee 8: ij a! a, ? 
 ~, te . :) 
 
 
 
 25 Sel eka 
 
 ach of his ae visitors. ‘“‘ You’re some 
 luck, the three of you. That was the neatest 
 round-up I ever saw. What you been before? 
 Life saving service?” 
 
 _ “Why, hardly——” began Frank. 
 
 “Well, you got those people off that burning 
 motor boat slicker than I ever saw it done be- 
 fore. 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 ae 
 Coline on the ee here and make es a 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 eT han you,’ bowed Frank. 
 “Oh, I do so hope we can make it!” ex- 
 
 Then they found them- 
 _ Their 
 
 
 
 od view ie oe sea for miles, The chums 
 
26: PICTURE, CHUMS) AT’ SEASIDE. (PARK 
 
 ranged their chairs so as to catch the cool breeze 
 coming off the water, forming a half-circle about 
 an open window. 
 
 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. 
 
 “Tell you, fellows,’ finally spoke their leader 
 in an offhand but serious way, “‘ ve turned and 
 twisted about all the many corners to this big 
 proposition before us, and it’s no trivial respon- 
 sibility for amateurs like us.” 
 
 “We made good at Fairlands; didn’t we?” 
 challenged Pep. 
 
 “That is true,” admitted Frank, ** but remem- 
 ber 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 encour- 
 age us, and we had free board at home.” 
 
 “That’s so,’ murmured Randy, with a long- 
 drawn sigh. | 
 
 “Tf 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 ad- 
 vertising, a big license fee, more help and the 
 films—that’s the feature that worries me. As 
 
SHORT OF FUNDS 27 
 
 we learned this morning, we have got to have 
 the latest and best in that direction.” 
 
 “ But twelve shows a day, Frank,” a Pep. 
 “Think of it—twelve!”’ 
 
 “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, were short of the ready funds to carry 
 this thing through.” 
 
 Randy and Pep looked pretty blank at this. It 
 was a decidedly wet blanket on all their high 
 hopes. 
 
 *“ Couldn’t we get a partner who would finance 
 us?” finally suggested Randy. 
 
 “Why, say, give me that chance!” spoke an 
 eager voice that brought the three chums to their 
 feet. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 Ir had grown nearly dusk while the three 
 chums sat at the window of their room ani- 
 matedly discussing their prospects. None of 
 them had thought of lighting ‘the gas and the 
 night shadows that had crept into the room pre- 
 yented them from recognizing the intruder whom 
 they now faced. 
 
 They had left the door of the room leading 
 into the corridor wide open to allow a free cur- 
 rent of air. The doorway framed a dim figure 
 who now advanced into the room as Frank chal- 
 lenged sharply: 
 
 “Who's that?” 
 
 ‘“* Why, it’s me—Peter,” came the cool reply. 
 “Don’t you remember? ” 
 
 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 
 
AN OLD FRIEND 29 
 
 near by. Peter moved it near to the others and 
 sat down as if he owned it. 
 
 *“ 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!” 7 
 
 “You seem to have made it,” observed Randy, 
 in a rather hostile tone, while Pep seemed bris- 
 tling all over. 
 
 “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 play- 
 house on the beach! Why, it’ll coin money!” 
 
 Nobody said anything. Frank was minded to 
 treat the intruder civilly and resumed his chair. 
 Suddenly Pep flared out: 
 
 **Have you been waiting out in the hall there, 
 listening to our private conversation? ” 
 
 “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 compli- 
 
30 PiCTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 mentaries to the real people of Seaside Park. 
 They’d advertise you, my friends would, till 
 there'd be nothing but standing room left.” 
 
 “Think so?’ observed Randy, drily. 
 
 “ 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 auto- 
 mobile last week and it cost her over four hun- 
 dred 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.” | 
 
 “You got into the water when the motor boat 
 blew up, all right,’ remarked Pep. 
 
 “Hey?” spoke Peter, struggling over the sug: 
 gestion presented. “Oh, you mean a joke? Ha! 
 ha! yes, indeed. Business, though, now,’ and 
 Peter tried to look shrewd and important. 
 
 “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 ac- 
 tually 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.” 
 
 *“T wish you would come right up to the house 
 now and tell my Aunt Susie all about it,” pressed 
 Peter, urgently. 
 
 “T couldn’t think of it,’ answered Frank. 
 
‘AN OLD FRIEND 31 
 
 “No, you leave matters just as I suggest and 
 we will see what may come of it.” 
 
 “Say, Frank,’ whispered Pep, on fire with 
 excitement, “ you don’t mean to think of encour- 
 aging this noodle; do you? ”’ 
 
 **I want to get rid of him,” answered Frank, 
 and all hands were relieved to see the persistent 
 Peter rise from his seat. 
 
 “Oh, say,’ he suddenly exclaimed—‘‘ I came 
 for something, that’s so. My aunt wants to see 
 vou, 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.” 
 
 “Why, we may not be here then,” said Frank. 
 
 “Oh, you must come,” declared Peter, ‘‘ now 
 I have a chance to go in with you. I couldn't 
 think of you're 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 
 cant do too much for you. Say, on the quiet, 
 T’ll bet she makes you a present of fifty dollars 
 apiece.” 
 
 “What for?’’ demanded Frank. 
 
32 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “For getting to that burning boat and saving 
 all hands, of course. Why, I wouldn’t take the 
 tisk you did of oe blown up for a thousand 
 dollars.” 
 
 “No, I don’t think you would,’ announced 
 Pep, bluntly. 
 
 “Tl tell you,’ went on their guest—if 
 youll give me a tip on the side Ill work up . 
 Aunt Susie to a hundred dollars apiece. There, 
 I know I can do it.” 
 
 Frank bit his lip and tried to keep from losing. 
 his temper with this mean-spirited cad. Then he © 
 said with quiet dignity: 
 
 “T 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 cer- 
 tain we shall be too busy to accept her kind invi- 
 tation for to-morrow evening; in fact, we may 
 ' leave Seaside Park for our home at Fairlands 
 early in the morning.” 
 
 Dauntless Peter! you could not squelch that 
 shallow nerve of his. In a trice he shouted out: 
 
 “Why! do you live at Fairlands? ” 
 
 “Ves,” nodded Frank, wondering what was 
 coming next from this extraordinary youth. 
 
 “Then you know Greg Grayson?” 
 
 ““Oh, yes,” admitted Randy. 
 
AN OLD FRIEND 33 
 
 “T should think we did!’’ observed Pep, with 
 a wry grimace. 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “Maybe that’s the reason!” muttered Pep. 
 
 ** 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.” 
 
 Frank managed to usher their persistent vis- 
 itor from the room, all the way down the cor- 
 tidor the latter insisting that he was going to 
 * put the proposition up to Aunt Susie” forth- 
 with, and that they would hear from him on the 
 morrow. 
 
 “ Frank,” exclaimed Pep, “it seems good to 
 get rid of that fellow.” 
 
 ‘* A’ fine partner he’d make, 
 with a snort. 
 
 “T 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.”’ 
 
 “ And to think of his knowing Greg Grayson, 
 
 39 
 
 observed Randy, 
 
34 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 and playing him off on us as a recommenda- 
 tion!” cried Pep. - 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “T wouldn’t wonder if Mr. Jolly might happen 
 along if we stay here a day or two longer,” re- 
 marked Frank. ‘‘ You know he was the first to 
 suggest a look at Seaside Park with a view to 
 business.” | 
 
 “That's so,” said Randy. “Did you write to 
 him, Frank?” . 
 
 “Yes. You know when we closed up at Fair- 
 lands he said he would take a day or two visit- 
 ing some relatives and looking over the movies 
 business in the city.” 
 
 “Ben Jolly told me he wasn’t going to stay 
 idle all summer. Nor let us do it, either,’ ob- 
 served Pep. ‘ He'll have something fresh to tell 
 us when we see him.” 
 
 “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.” o 
 
 “YT wish he would,” declared Randy. “ Mr. 
 Jolly knows so much about the business. What's 
 the programme for to-morrow, Frank?” 
 
ae, the amount of the license fee for the Se 
 us cost of a lot of electric wiring and current we 
 
 Then hey started out on their 
 ond day’ S investigation of conditions and pros- 
 
 
 
36 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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 *o permanent residences and 
 summer cottages. They began talking over the 
 ever-present theme of their photo playhouse when 
 there was an interruption. 
 
 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. 
 
 “Say, just listen to that!” exclaimed Pep, in 
 a pleased tone. 
 
 : “It’s one of those trick whistles,’ declared 
 
 Randy. 
 
 “Then it’s an extra fine one,’ said Pep. 
 
 “TI think you are mistaken, boys,’ suggested 
 Frank. “ Those are real human notes—at least 
 almost exact human limitations of bird tones.” 
 
 “Well, then, the fellow must have a throat 
 like a nightingale,” asserted the enthusiastic Pep. . 
 
 The active whistler deserved all the chums said 
 about him. His repertoire seemed exhaustless. 
 He confined himself to imitations of birds ex- 
 clusively—and of only such birds as were native 
 to the surrounding country. 
 
 He fairly filled the air with melody, and real 
 
AN OLD FRIEND 37 
 
 birds in the trees and shrubbery about the hand- 
 some residences of the locality twittered, hopped 
 about and responded in an echoing chorus to his 
 expert call. 
 
 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. | 
 
 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. 
 
 “Why, fellows, see,” he oie. in mingled aa 
 and surprise—“ it’s Ben Jolly!’ 
 
CHAPTER V 
 THE BIRD HOUSE 
 
 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. 
 
 “ Hi, there!’ hailed Pep, while Randy waved 
 his hand gaily and all hurried their gait. 
 
 “Well! well!” exclaimed Jolly, his face an 
 expanding smile of welcome, extending both 
 hands and greeting his friends in turn. “I ex- 
 pected to find you here and headed for here, but 
 I did not expect to run across you so oddly.” 
 
 “For mercy’s sake, Mr. Jolly,’ burst forth 
 Randy, staring in amazement at the wagon, 
 “what in the world have you got there? ” 
 
 “Why bird houses,” replied Jolly. 
 
 “ Bird houses?’ repeated Pep, equally bewil- 
 
 38 
 
Be Sr ey abil Alan, ay 
 1A } A 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 eredy: “What 2 are you Name with eH a lot fhe 
 f bird houses?” eae 
 re Selling them, of course.’ ne 
 Frank himself was ae 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 — bi 
 "painted white, like the poles, and were exact Bis 
 _ models of a broad, low colonial house, even to Lae 
 the veranda. The roof was painted red, there BN 
 was an imitation chimney and a double open ee 
 gorway in front trimmed with green, All 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 A neater, more caine little bird house for a 
 den could not well be imagined. As Jolly took 
 mee from. the wagon the little children © 
 
40 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE, PARK 
 
 “What a rare fellow he is!” remarked Randy 
 to his companions, as they stepped aside. 
 
 “The same busy, happy, good-natured friend ~ 
 of everybody,’ returned Frank, with genuine - 
 feeling. 
 
 If there was a being in the world the motion 
 picture chums had reason to feel kindly toward 
 jt was this same Ben Jolly. A’ free wanderer, 
 taking things easy, tramping flower-fringed coun-. 
 try 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 pic- 
 ture show at Fairlands. 
 
 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 sugges- 
 tions that enabled them to buy their first outfit 
 at a pargain and the day the show opened ap- 
 peared 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. | 
 
 Jolly took a sample bird house under each arm 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 iG later to each purchaser and rejoined the boys. 
 i. “Now, then,” he said, briskly, placing ar little 
 
 - you and what are the prospects?” 
 
 though, Mr. Jolly, will you kindly explain this 
 new business of yours?” 
 _ “Simply a side line,” 
 offhand manner. 
 “But where did you ever pick up that rig and 
 lot of odd truck?” challenged Pep. 
 
 
 
 
 replied Jolly, int a gay, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “1 ran across the finest advance agent 
 
 
 
 | him once, but under his eae of Hal Pope. 
 
 _ tive little miniature domiciles, distributed poles 
 
 toh, of banknotes in a well-filled wallet, “how are | 
 
 Pe eercient, declated Randy. -“ See» here,. 
 
 “T picked up better than that,” retorted Jolly, 
 
 an hE business—and here he comes. You knew 
 
 
 
42 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “So it is,’ echoed Randy. 
 
 “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 pros- 
 perous.,” . oe 
 
 “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. 
 
 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. 
 
 “Thinking of my first and only appearance at 
 that auction where you bought your movies out- 
 fit?’ inquired Vincent, with a smile. 
 
 “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 ven- 
 triloquism, and gained time until Frank arrived, 
 we would never have gotten into the motion pic- 
 ture business.”’ 
 
 “It worked finely; didn’t it?’’ answered Vin- 
 cent. 
 
 “IT ran across Hal at Tresco, about thirty miles 
 from here,” narrated Ben Jolly. “ He was count- 
 ing the ties in the direction of New York, having 
 
age tee ae and lodging.” 
 “Yes, I was about all that was left of the Gone 
 -_ solidated peas Amusement Corporation,” put 
 a 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. 
 3 “That was my brilliant idea,’ added Jolly. 
 “ As I call it a rare stroke of luck, the way we ran 
 f across the outfit.” 
 “How?” projected Pep, vastly curious. — 
 | “Well, a carpenter in a little town we came 
 through had got crippled. The doctor told him 
 
 rt 
 
 f 
 ‘ 
 ig 
 4 
 Y 
 
 aths. He was a lively, industrious old fellow 
 d couldn’t bear to be idle. Had a lot of waste © 
 
 
 
44 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 ventriloquist friend was exercising his talents. 
 
 “The carpenter,” proceeded Jolly, “hired a 
 lot of boys to go forth on his mission of kind- 
 ness 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 mar- 
 ket, 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.’ 
 
 “ Anything odd always catches me, so I inter- 
 viewed the old man. It seemed that he had re- 
 ceived 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. | 
 
 “Tt looks so, judging from your sales of the 
 last half-hour,’ remarked Frank. 
 

 
 
 
 
 oily? Meee ics Randy. 
 ie A dollar soe is I don’t sell them, though— 
 not a bit of it,” exclaimed Ben Jolly, modestly. 
 Oe kes Hal. You ought to hear his whole reper- 
 : _toire—orioles, thrushes, mourning doves, night- 
 _ ingales, mocking birds. He infuses the neighbor- 
 
 hood with the melody and I slide in with the 
 __ practical goods. And that rig—remember the 
 
 ‘noise wagon at Fairlands, Pep Smith?” 
 beago ee» Cried: Pep, in. a emp way—‘ I 
 should oy T did!” 
 ‘The “noise wagon’ ’ had been satiod dee in 
 a connection with the photo playhouse at Fair- 
 Bp 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. 
 “You see this new rig of mine would work in 
 ha ‘the same basis here,” proceeded Jolly. Naa si 
 
 
 
 if Tm anxious to hear it all,” Se ee 
 
 
 
46 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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 prom- 
 ising-like.”’ i 
 
 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 advan- 
 tage to them in the future in case they located at 
 Seaside Park. 
 
 Vincent had the reputation of being an accom- 
 plished 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 com- 
 pensation. 
 
 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. 
 
 “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 
 

 
 "speaker Sinbited a Sirntortable: jeking roll of 
 bank notes. “That was a fine speculation, the 
 way it ‘turned out, and leaves me ee in funds. 
 _ Now then, what’s the programme? ” 
 
 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. 
  “Y’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 
 
 
 
 ny way to give the new show a start, but when 
 comes to raising the extra five hundred dollars 
 needed, I'm afraid I can’t help you much.” 
 
 _ Randy looked glum at this, and Pep was al- 
 _ most crying. Ben Jolly sat chewing a toothpick 
 vigorously, his: thinking cap on. 
 
 eas tet we had better give up the idea of 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 pottage. I’m willing to pitch in and live ’most. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 deer 
 ee és 
 pas 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ar ae 
 
48 PICTURE CHUMS. AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 nounced a bellboy, appearing in the open door- 
 way. 
 
 Frank arose from his chair promptly and went 
 out into the corridor. 
 
 “‘ In the ladies’ parlor, sir,” added the bellboy, 
 and Frank went down the stairs, wondering who 
 this unexpected visitor could be. 
 

 
 eee CHAPTER VI 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 1 
 . FRANK DurHam entered the ladies’ parlor of 
 | a Faye 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 
 es the afternoon before. : aren 
 Pe fe Lits is Mr. Durham,” spoke Miss Porter, 
 i ai she smiled in a friendly way at our hero, 
 _ while her companion extended her bejeweled 
 hand with a decided show of welcome. 
 > "Twas so ere by that explosion,” said 
 ee Carrington, “that I just got a glimpse of 
 you. Then that ridiculous fainting away! I 
 ave thanked Miss Porter a dozen times for hav- i 
 ng had the foresight to obtain your name and 
 th t of your brave young comrades. Now then, _ 
 | Durham, if you please, sit down and give an oe 
 count of peels * fe 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
50. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “ Why have you not accepted our invitation to 
 come up to the house, as I requested? ’ demand- 
 ed Mrs. Carrington, pretending to be very severe. 
 
 “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 Sea- 
 side Park. Then, too, some friends arrived this 
 afternoon.” 
 
 “T am used to being obeyed, young man,” 
 Mrs. Carrington, with a playful frown. “I have 
 no doubt, though, that I sent a blundering mes- 
 senger. 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. 
 
 “To tell you the truth, Mr. Durham, Peter is 
 a sad failure at anything that requires applica- 
 tion and work. I would not do you the injus- 
 tice 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 corre- 
 spondence with a military school, with the idea 
 of getting him where a year’s discipline may do 
 him some good.” 
 
Pt ee Oe Fe i eerie Mees be 
 pW apd 2, le ‘ FAAS i h, 
 
 K D U 4 airs 
 4 a= 
 
 
 
 ea the Mca of taking Peter Carrington ee? OM 
 
 pe partnership. He felt immensely relieved, sae 
 however, to find that his visitor did not press 
 
 - that phase of the subject. oe 
 
 “TI have come, first and foremost,” went on i a 
 
 the fussy but good-natured lady, “to thank you | as 
 
 for what you did for us. WhenI think of how 
 _ near we were to drowning or burning up it makes | 
 me shudder! My friends, who happened to see ie 
 - your picture in this morning’s paper——” ee 
 _ “My picture?” exclaimed Frank, in bewilder- ah 
 ment. ‘“ What picture, Mrs. Carrington?” 
 _ “Why,” cried Mrs. Carrington, “he actually 
 . is so modest he hasn't realized- what a hero he 
 has been! I refer to the splendid poe of your : 
 "bravery j in the Brenton Daily News.” i 
 _ Brenton was the nearest city, about twenty 
 4 aa from Seaside Park. Frank began to get a 
 _ faint glimmering of the situation now. ‘The re- 
 _ porter who had snap- -shotted him with his camera 
 from the pier must have sent his story to the 
 paper Mrs. Carrington mentioned. ees 
 a he e ‘J think I have the ee, about the rescues’ (anaes 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You can have it, Mr. Durham,” 
 his mischievous tormentor with a smile. 
 
 came down here to say. Oh, I was walle shou 
 my friends. They have fairly overwhelmed m 
 with congratulations over my fortunate CS 
 
 paper noeouen said—what was it, Mrs. Conse 
 ton? You must tell Mr. Durham, i declared : 
 
 younger woman. 7 | 
 “ About the handsome picture and anne ne en- 
 sible, thoughtful young man our rescuer must 
 be?” ee vs 
 Oh, Mrs. Carringieae  bleaiedl ee 
 beg of you!—it is I who am being OV 
 
 now. You will make me sO vain oy bie 
 
 
 

 
 tington, 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 areward. 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 Ben young companions ina AUN Biveat useful 
 ; way.” 
 You are very, very kind to say what you 
 do,” said Frank earnestly. 
 tage - be really kind,” suggested Mrs. Car- 
  rington, ‘ ‘and I shall be satisfied. My nephew 
 has told me enough about your business plans to 
 : convinee me that you are at a critical point in 
 , _ your career, where a little capital may be every- 
 thing to you. I ama wealthy woman, Mr. Dur- 
 ham. 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 ie a way.” 
 ae ae head drooped. The boy who never 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Shas Ome 
 
“ PICTURE cHums: 
 
 other said Frank ee  brokeny Nie ee 
 living to find such cana se 
 
 ing a hand on F fark s arm, “ T can imagine oyhay 
 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.” 
 
 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. | 
 
 “Mrs. Carrington,” he said in a straightfor- 
 ward vey: . I would not allow any pee we in 
 
 ~ motest risk of loss. We lack a few Hunareel tole 
 lars to. start a photo playhouse at Seaside Park 
 in the right way: If you feel i ina eee to ad- 
 
 goes wrong we will be the ae jesere i 
 “I not only feel willing to assist you,” 
 Mrs, Carrington, bute insist at ee 
 
 Porter?” . 
 “Nol no! no!” interme Fra 
 
 
 
AR Age eu Poy by. 
 ey, et 
 
 Ne 
 Regt 
 nn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 you ve some agent or nae shia will ane 
 for you, that will be the best way.” 
 
 _ The kind lady looked disappointed at the sug- 
 gestion. In her free-hearted way she wished to 
 "trust Frank without restriction. He saw that her 
 _ feelings were hurt and he hastened to say: 
 “My partners will feel ever so much better to 
 have everything arranged in a regular way and 
 set down in black and white.” 
 | eee: Very well, have your own way, Mr. Dur- 
 Ruane ' said the lady, “only promise to come to 
 
 _ me if se have any troubles or further lack of 
 
 Je 
 
 funds.” ‘ 
 “Oh, we shall not, ” declared Frank, brighten- 
 4 ing with courage and confidence as he saw all ob- 
 ‘structions to the success of the new show re- 
 moved; 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 
 bes “paused his auditors plied him with new ques- 
 tions and urged him on with his story. | ey 
 GE “How very, very interesting,” commented rik 
 Mrs. Carrington. : : 
 sal tae is simply delightful!” declared Miss Por- ; 
 t , with sparkling eyes. “ Oh, dear! it must be ee 
 D ndid ee to be a bo of to 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
56 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “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. a 
 
 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 com- 
 pletely at home with his impetuous, original ways 
 and remarks. 
 
 The boys promised to call upon Mrs. Carring- 
 ton as soon as they got settled at Seaside Park. 
 Then all three escorted the visitors to an auto- 
 mobile waiting at the curb. Beside the chauffeur 
 they found Peter Carrington seated. He nodded 
 familiarly to the chums. Then he caught Pep’s 
 eye. | 
 With an air of great importance and a quick 
 glance at his aunt and her companion, as if mak- 
 ing sure that they were not observing him, he 
 placed a finger to his lips. 
 
 “S-st!” he uttered, and winked in an alto- 
 gether mysterious manner at Pep Smith. 
 
 “*S-st!’”? repeated Pep, as the machine 
 started on its way—‘“ now what in the world 
 does Peter Carrington mean by ‘S-st?’” 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 BUSINESS BOYS 
 
 **T nope I did right, fellows,” said Frank. 
 
 “You never do any other way,’ declared 
 Randy Powell loyally. 
 
 “Exactly my sentiments,’ echoed the impetu- 
 ous Pep Smith. “ You'll say so, too; won’t you, 
 Mr. Jolly?” 
 
 “} 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.” 
 
 “Thank you,’ acknowledged Frank, slightly 
 flustered at the compliments of the coterie of 
 friends about him. 7 
 
 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. 
 57 
 
morning.” | B 
 
 The aye handed a aeolian eee to. a 
 Frank. It read: “Attorney William Slade, on — 
 request of Mrs. Carrington, would like to see you, 
 in the morning.” se 
 
 Frank showed the crernen eae to te ‘aid 
 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 fac 
 the boys had come to the conclusion that ‘she 
 should do so. With Ben Jolly, up in their TOO 
 after their visitors had departed, they had gor 
 over the entire a in detail. 3 
 
 _ advised Jolly. 
 
 lady feels vudebied to you, her offer ish 
 
 square and business-like.” Ge 
 Frank thought over the Saas in its 
 
 
 
Uf Ppa 
 
 L phone message at once set things in motion. 
 The chums had breakfast, Frank learned the ad- 
 dress of Mr. Slade, and about nine o'clock started 
 for his office, which was located over the bank of 
 the town. 
 ae You had better meet Mr. Jolly, as we 
 agreed,” directed Frank to his companions. 
 
 ‘i “Where will you pick us up again?” ques- 
 
 ; tioned Randy. : 
 
 oe ian Why, I think I shall not be with this Mr. 
 
 ‘Slade more than an hour,” explained Frank. 
 
 _ “Say, then,” suggested Pep, “suppose we go 
 ver to the empty store you're thinking of turn- 
 
 % n is einent to meet in the morning. 
 
 ” smiled Frank. 
 ” confessed Pep. ‘‘ Mr. Jolly 
 I shouldn’t wonder 42 he 
 
 i 
 
 Peep well, » said Frank, “ we will all meet 
 pl at eleven o'clock.” 
 
 cae store half an hour earlier than he ex» | 
 & He found, his chums and Ben Jolly 2 anx- oy 
 
 
 
ee Satie Hen wvineen aa remai 
 ‘the horse and wagon at the barn. 
 There were some old chairs at the rear of tl 
 vacant building, and Mr. Morton invited them to ‘ 
 make free use of them. It was quite a business — r. 
 conclave that grouped together while Frank told a 
 his story. It was clear and simple. , ‘Mrs. Car- ; 
 rington had instructed her attorney to advance _ 
 up to one thousand dollars to ‘Frank and his | 
 friends as needed. | ui 
 “‘T insisted that we give the lady a bill of ae 
 of all our belongings as security,” explained a 
 Frank. “The lawyer laughed at me. You | 
 don’t know a good thing when you see ‘it? 
 said. ‘ Perhaps not,’ I told him; but I know an 
 
 , ay right.” : 
 _ And then followed the bean sanetion of, 
 and the boys to all Frank ae done. | fee 
 
 ‘so what J say is only out Of; friendly Me 
 ts would advise that just one of the firn 
 whe fae orstiel if he’ Ss s willing, 1 
 
 
 
BUSINESS BOYS 61 
 
 all business dealings. It simplifies things, you 
 see.” 
 
 “It’s got to be Frank, then,” spoke Randy. 
 
 “It will always be Frank,” echoed Pep. “‘ He’s 
 the brains of the business; isn’t he?” 
 
 “TI 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.” 
 
 “Sho!” derided Jolly modestly. 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “Are you?” challenged Jolly, with twinkling 
 eyes. 
 
 “Yes, sir, IT am. I shall make a definte new 
 deal all around.” 
 
 “Will you?” said Jolly. 
 
 “Don’t you doubt it. You've been a staunch, 
 helpful friend and it’s equal partners, if we come 
 to Seaside Park.” 
 
 “ That is, you think you are going to make a 
 business man of me?” 
 
 “You've been one all along,’ vociferated Pep. 
 Why, that noise wagon idea alone——” 
 
profits of the new venture. | A ah 
 Frank called Mr. Morton into hige ‘confab | 
 He explained to him precisely their ones and the - 
 extent of their capital. Pw ~~ 
 “ Mrs. Carrington backing you; eh?” he ob- 
 served. “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 with- | | 
 out any guarantee. Shall we call it settled—yo 
 lease the premises until October first, pay me the 
 first. month’s rent before yeu come in and ue 
 
 rangement,” said Frank. 
 “Tt’s settled, then,” a their banaigea 
 Pep followed him as he went to the 
 where the “ To Rent” sign was placed, t 
 ‘it and began to tear it up. Pep was pretty near 
 _ dancing. If they had been given 2) pal ce he. 
 could not have been more pleased. aye 
 | “S-st!” sounded a sudden hail and the 
 tous and mysterious Peter Carrington c ut 
 
 : AUS a outside the ee doorway 
 
 . press: ne dislike for a a slow who F d 
 
 
 
BUSINESS BOYS 63 
 
 eavesdropper and left a relative to the risk of 
 drowning. “What you snooping around 
 for?” 
 
 “Wanted to see you.” 
 
 “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?” 
 
 ““T see the rent sign is down.” 
 
 “Yes,” proclaimed Pep grandly, “we have 
 leased the premises.”’ 
 
 “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 fel- 
 lows——” 
 
 “Say, we have all the capital we need,” an- 
 nounced Pep. 
 
 “Oh, you have?” 
 
 “A new partner just came in.” 
 
 “Huh!” snorted Peter. “Say, you don’t 
 mean my aunt?” 
 
 “She is not a partner, no.” 
 
 Peter looked abashed, then disappointed, then 
 angry. 
 
 “°*Tain’t fair!” he declared. 
 
 “What isn’t fair?” 
 
 “‘T spoke first and I deserve to have a show.” 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 propounded Pep bluntly. : ; 
 ‘This staggered Peter. ae ite chino | 
 
 deeply. Then he looked Pep over and seemed to 
 
 Ibe studying sorpchng . 
 
 Tn Me 
 
 See here,” he said with a halecunsiie ex- 
 pression in his face, “I suppose you know a heap 
 about the movies?” eve ia 
 “Oh, tolerable, tolerable,” - responded Pe 
 who did indeed think so. Pee 
 “And you remember Greg ae of Fa air . 
 lands? ” et a 
 
 
 
 
 
 tween the lines. Bn | ae 
 “Well, I’ve got an idea,” chuckled ne 
 “Anybody has a right to start a movies show 
 haven’t they?” ! 
 “Tf they want to, I suppose.” 
 “Well, since I can’t make a deal with th 
 Durham, I’m going it on my own hook, 1 
 raise the money; Greg’s father is rich and he cat 
 help. All we need is someone who ihowan : 
 practical end of the business. Say, you ome in 
 with us and Pil au ‘you double re xpect 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 
BUSINESS BOYS 6s 
 
 through. At a mere hint of disloyalty to his fa- 
 mous friends he took fire. He gave Peter a push. 
 
 “You get out!’ he ordered staunchly. 
 
 “Hey?” goggled Peter. 
 
 “And stay out!” 
 
 “ Aumph!” 
 
 Peter got to a safe distance. Then he shook 
 his fist at Pep. 
 
 “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 in- 
 sulted me. Tl show you something. Greg Gray- 
 son and I will put a spoke in the wheel of that 
 Frank Durham and your whole precious crowd; 
 see of we don’t!” 
 
CHAPTER VIII _ 
 
 KIDNAPPED 
 
 Bybee I had our old bind hota said Ben J aly, ni 
 * there’s one tune had play for att it s worth.” 
 
 Durham. 
 “* Home, Sweet Home.’ ’ 
 
 ing wares. He had a smiling and ecto 
 audience. Everybody was smiling, even 
 Vincent, who had no particular interest ir 
 new photo playhouse. Frank’s face was b 
 ing, Randy looked his delight and Ga 4 
 the words, with unction: | 
 
 : It’ S simply Bt on 
 
 
 
KIDNAPPED 67 
 
 “mapping out details that Randy got to talking in 
 his sleep, and Pep aroused all hands by scream- 
 ing 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. 
 
 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. | 
 
 The chums were down at the hotel that after- 
 noon 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. 
 
 No one could have failed to approve of the 
 wonderful transformation Jolly had made in a 
 bare, cheerless lumber room. He had: traded 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 to good vance! There was a es: 0 
 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. — 
 
 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 ee 
 declaration: a Nee “ 
 
 “Tt’s simply great!” sa aan 
 
 “When you come to think that I oa all toe 
 traps and forty dollars cash to boot for that 
 impossible old rig of ours,’ ’ observed Jolly, “ you 
 ‘will see that I made a very interesting dicker. 
 
 ae What do you say, Durham; we can make. a neat 
 = cut in expenses, eh?” | si 
 yy “Why, it makes easy the antes part of our 
 whole proposition,” declared Frank. — i : 
 “Yes, and here we can tke be sight on 
 
 — f spot,” spoke Randy, _ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 _ KIDNAPPED 
 
 up with the supplies and I’ll promise to do 
 
 99 
 
 Be Pee ee = Fin, eee 
 
 ~~ oa ones ead ce 
 is a SP 9 — 
 “A raclubS vgn stuatiie ose © ete ea las Dies Laces 
 ai Sema Se alt et eae ib os 
 
 “It’s just fine,’ voted Pep. “The sleeping 
 rooms look right across to the ocean and there’s 
 splendid sweep of air with all these openings. 
 . Lh will be cool and comfortable on the very hot- 
 
 ee 
 
 
 
 test nights. I’ll wash all the dishes, Mr. Jolly, og 
 and set the table, and all that.” A, 
 _ “Oh, we shall get on famously, I am sure of be 
 ‘that, ” observed Frank with keen satisfaction. os 
 The boys decided that they would at once aye 
 
 ove their traps from the hotel and make per- is 
 
 manent headquarters at their home base. They 
 ad their: first meal in Ps new quarters that 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 eo os, if you care to take pot luck with us till 
 et ee on our feet, you can certainly help 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 en "PICTURE cHUMS AT sl 
 
 
 
 “Tve gat that in iad e explained Vincen 
 “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.” 
 
 “T say,” here put in Jolly, “why don’t you” 
 
 and Durham go together? As it’s: arranged, t 
 Durham, you have got to put in a day or two 
 arranging for what new Ree as we need and 
 the film service.’ 
 
 “That is true,” replied Ranke ‘and Mr. Vin 
 cent knows so much about the motion picture 
 business his advice ne help: would be By ae 
 benefit to me. | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 outfit?” cag Jolly. Se yea: 
 \. “7 think that is the hese ae : 
 | assented Frank. ‘ _— and 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O ‘see the folks.” 
 _ 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 
 ds 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 
 o their home folks and friends. 
 
 Part of the fixing up of the store room Mr. 
 orton had agreed to do at his own expense. 
 ‘here were, however, innumerable details that 
 ell to the lot of the boys themselves. There 
 vere rolls of matting to buy for the center aisle, 
 nd the stage was to be built under Randy’s sup- 
 rvision. They had decided to use the old name, 
 Wonderland,” so as to utilize the ornate elec- 
 c sign they had at Fairlands, and Pep was 
 *n charge of having this same name placed in 
 ep way on the two front sees 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 =, 
 
 pn 
 
 Pury % 
 
 et Oc <%, or 
 we 8 
 
 1 oy 
 vee 
 af 
 
 « ., 
 thine 
 
 aT Ome 
 
 Ptah 0 
 
 ¥ wee ie 
 bd m] 
 
 ret 
 
 fete hal 
 } 
 
 re ad) 4 
 ot 
 whe 
 2 
 
 ee ts) 
 
 Baan 
 
 ? 
 
 ity 
 ie y 
 
 ONS | | 
 
 ei fe 
 
 re) 
 
 Pane 
 
 43, 
 
 eS 
 
 : ie 
 
 bie Ay a 
 
 Pps 
 
 : ue 
 
 ace 
 
 yak he 
 
 bk fe 
 
 oa 
 
 ee 
 _— 
 
 a 
 
 Sa 
 gs ee 
 
 = 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ay. 
 

 
 72 PICTURE cCHUMS AT " SEASIDE, A 
 
 
 
 bireless when he liked a job. ‘Pep was no Tage 
 gard, 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. 
 
 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 py Help ire 
 the boys at their tasks. wey 
 
 At the end of three days Randy int Pep 
 prided themselves on having accomplished won- 
 ders. 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. | 4 
 
 “A letter came from Frank asia 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. men-— 
 tioned some of the movies accessories he had 
 purchased and told of some novel features i in 
 ys of films for whee he sean aoa 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
KIDNAPPED 73 
 
 as much excited as his chums over the prospects 
 of the new Wonderland. 
 
 che 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 [ll attend to that and we'll take in the 
 beach this evening.” 
 
 “Yes, we've earned a little recreation, I think,”’ 
 agreed Randy. 
 
 Pep started off, whistling like some happy 
 Jark. 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 ap- 
 pear. 
 
 “ Wonder why Pep doesn’t show up?” rumi- 
 nated Randy. “It’s time he did, as we wanted 
 to get an early start.” 
 
 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. 
 
 Just as he came out on the broad planking lead- 
 ing from the boardwalk to the entrance to the 
 store, a man hailed him. He was a stout, lum- 
 bering old fellow whom Randy had seen before. 
 
 “Hi!” he hailed, “‘ you remember me; don’t 
 you?” 
 
74. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “Why yes,” nodded Randy. “You are the 
 man Mr. Jolly traded his rig with for our furni- 
 ture.’ 
 
 “That's it,” nodded) the "mantis 2 ysavom) 
 thought I'd come and tell you. It was near my 
 place that the accident happened.” 
 
 ‘“ What accident?” challenged Randy sharply. 
 
 “ Automobile—that young fellow that’s josh- 
 ing and jollying all the time ¥ 
 
 “You mean Pep—Pepperill Smith?” asked 
 Randy. 
 
 ““That’s him, I remember hearing -Jolly call 
 him by that name. Well, it was him that got 
 hurt and ih 
 
 “ Hurt!’ cried Randy, alarmed at the word— 
 “When? How? Where?” | 
 
 “ About an hour ago, by an automobile in front 
 of my place,” was the reply. 
 
 “Was he—was Pep seriously hurt? ”’ faltered 
 Randy. . 
 
 *“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.” 
 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 PEP IN CLOVER 
 
 '“ KIDNAPPED!” repeated Randy, in a nollow 
 tone. 
 
 The furniture man nodded his head assent- 
 ingly. He was big and fat and had evidently 
 come in a hurry. He had been blunt, but con- 
 fused in telling his story. Now he took a long 
 breath to begin again. 
 
 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. 
 
 “Tell me all about it—quick,” he demanded. 
 
 “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 
 
 le 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 pee carriage was Sapohne across the stre et li hal 
 a feather in a tornado.” es 
 “ But—Pep?” urged Randy, benthely, Ey 
 “What of him?” . 
 “ He saw it in a flash. The woman stood mo- 
 tionless 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 car- - 
 riage. No wonder he hurried and no wonder 
 the woman screamed, for exactly at that instant — 
 a great red touring car carne tearing around thew : 
 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 cartaees directly it in 
 the path of the machine. : SO ie 
 “There wasn’t even time for the chauffeur to. : 
 move the wheel. I actually shut my hes think- FE 
 ing the smash was is bound to come. a 
 
 
 
 
 
 | cold with horror, Here be was lying on the groun a 
 and the baby ea se safe and sou 
 across the street.” Y 
 “‘ How badly was Pep hurt? a inquired Ran 
 his face pale with suspense. | ao 
 _“T heard someone in the crowd ay. ae 
 was broken. It seems, at the risk of his 
 as fe he had made that dash ‘for the b p 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 given it a push out of the way of the auto 
 ust as it was pouncing down upon it.” Pats nF 
 “Where is Pep now?’’ asked Randy. a 
 «“ Why, that is the queer part of it. The pas- Se 
 _ senger 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 Bhi: 
 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 
 g - came back and said that he could find no trace 
 p 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 
 shee !? 
 — “T don’t!” cried. Randy almost frantically, 
 ‘Wasn't it enough that they ran him down, with- 
 ‘out carrying him away nobody knows where? 
 Oh, I must get straight on his track—I must find 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 aL don’t care for ee will!” : 
 
 “© Mebbe I’d better give you my address,”’ said 
 s visitor. “ There’s been several accidents here _ 
 It’s mostly tourists passing through the _ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 town who are Seay stat" hae they dtivens 
 rich old fellows who don’t value life or limb, and 
 get out of the way fast as they can when they’ VE Ny 
 
 _ 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 ay investi- ub 
 _ gation was made.” | | 
 “Tt’s shameful!” exclaimed Randy, wrought — 
 
 up now to the highest pitch of excitement and ~ 
 indignation. “ Poor Pep! He may be suffer- 
 ing tortures and all those inhuman wretches think 
 about is getting clear of being found out. Tl — 
 find him—TI’ll run down his kidnappers and bring e 
 them to account, even if the police can’t.” 
 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 out- 
 side of what he already knew. His next call was 
 at the police station. He was ‘incensed at the i \ 
 este of the officers. They ee Peer . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 : The injured boy had heed) faker out. of ‘th 1 
 Ay jurisdiction and that seemed to lead them to 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 R tcc gos nea PCeped hor)! MCh a 
 Th feet eek y 
 
 a ey 
 
 79 
 
 andy Tee the ifection the red automobile 
 d taken. He proceeded to a livery garage 
 ‘ere motorcycles were on rent, and made him-. 
 seif known. He was well up in running the ma- 
 hine 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 be- 
 lieve that the kidnappers, if such they were, 
 -wouid favor a smooth, easily traversed highway 
 % over inferior dirt and stone roads that ran par- 
 “allel. 
 
 - Rendy stopped at the first little town he came 
 o ard made some inquiries, but they availed 
 him t:othing. Five miles further on, however, 
 he got a clue. Here were crossroads and a 
 ‘Roadside Rest,” a general halting place for 
 -roadmen. Several autos were in view, their oc- 
 cupants taking lunch in a pavilion near the hotel 
 x walking about stretching their limbs. 
 
 A man who wore a banded cap and a close 
 ‘ting coat flitted around here and there in an 
 portant way, and Randy decided he must be ; 
 sort of major domo about the place. au 
 I would like to inquire about an automobile i 
 passed or stopped here within the past hour,” 
 Randy, approaching this man. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “Where from? 
 the latter. 1 Daye a 
 “T don’t know,” explained Randy, my 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 : bey. about my age sane 
 had got his arm hurt % 
 “Oh, I know now,” interrupted the ee 
 “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, ws he was hold- ; 
 ing one arm and seemed in pain.” i 
 “Yes, yes—that is my friend,” declared Randy : 
 hastily. “ Which way did the machine go?” 
 “To Brenton, of course, where it belongs.” q aa 
 “Then you know its owner?” es, 
 “ Everybody knows him—Tyson, ‘he enilliones : 
 aire. Used to be a big bond 1 man in New York : 
 City 
 aii “Thank you,” said Randy and was off on bie 
 | 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?” “ Besa 
 It was quite late in the evening when R 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ro ee 
 ee ee ee beni zt 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 : Prenton ere was no difficulty in finding 
 i Tyson home. It was a very fine mansion 
 ith 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. 
 _ “Ts Mr. Tyson at home?” Randy inquired. 
 “He is at home, yes,” replied the servant, 
 studying critically the dust-covered caller. “ Busi- 
 “ness with him? ” | 
 _ “T have. You just tell him I am Randy 
 “Powell from Seaside Park, and I came about the anes 
 automobile accident.” pete 
 _ The servant left Randy standing i in the vesti- 
 bule until a portly, consequential-looking man ap- 
 peared. He viewed Randy in a shrewd, super- 
 _gilious way. coe 
 2 _ What’ Ss your business?” he challenged 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ., oe you Mr. Tyson?’ 
 “Never mind that. What are you after?” 
 “But I do mind it,” retorted Randy boldly. 
 If you are Mr. Tyson, it was your machine that A 
 down a friend of mine back at Seaside Park > 
 uple of hours ago, and I want to know what = 
 1 have done with him.” 
 
 Mr. Tyson looked a trifle fust red; then ety | 
 h She He said: 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ten “PICTURE cuums ic | on 
 
 > 
 
 the line.” 
 
 “Why should foie you Aone it | 
 
 “ Ha—hum!” muttered the millionaire. “ « See r 
 here, come in. You look reasonable—more so 
 than that young Es friend of yous unless Hey 
 has his own way.” ; 
 _ Mr. Tyson led Randy into a magnificently ae 
 nished room, nodded him toa a chair and sat SNe 
 facing him. | ) Byhertite vi, 
 
 “See here,” he cues “you just tell a oe 
 much rumpus you have raised about this unfor- 
 -tunate affair.” : fe . 
 
 “Tye raised no rumpus,” ‘aha: Randy, 
 “T’ve simply run down your automobile, which 
 the police of Seaside Park didn’t seem able 
 Cnclned to do.” | is 
 
 Neatly relieved, 
 vat all in ne up ‘one satisfactory all arour 
 
 pose it’s your” | ah 
 | ie “Ves, it’s) me,” + destated Rea ie 
 a ce Well, he wanted word sent 1 0 you.” e 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ye 
 
 “Not at but that isn’t it. See hake ie 
 because I’m supposed to have a lot of money I 
 ‘seem to be a mark for everybody. I have been 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 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 dam- 
 f ages and has a doctor ready to swear he is crip- 
 pled 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 
 j au there was another complaint he would give me 
 ; a jail sentence. Meads fine thing to be rich; isn’t 
 it? oy 
 
 Mr. Dyson really looked so disgusted that 
 
 Brady could not refrain from smiling. 
 _ “The newspapers got hold of it and pictured 
 oe as a regular ogre. Now it wasn’t our fault 
 
 
 
 S he Baaly hart?” inquired Randy solicit- 
 
 unfortunate enough to have various accidents 
 

 
 
 
 
 84 PICTURE CHUMS AT T SBA 
 
 hold us. The baby carriage hed no en ae 
 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 ine 
 and I intend to keep him captured.” | 
 “T don’t think you will,” began Randy, rising 
 -wrathfully to his feet. ‘“‘ He’s a poor boy, but 
 _ he’s got some friends and of | 
 “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 dor- 
 mouse—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, one 2 
 that fair?’ | | ; 
 “‘Why—I suppose so,’ admitted Randy : 
 “ Only—what does Pep say?” i 
 “Well, at first he was going to fight us, Wen ; 
 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 s 
 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 ver so he can 't be re) 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I Reha iatlar damage suits.” 
 — “Can I see him?’ inquired Randy. 
 You SHEAY can,” replied Mr. Tyson with 
 ‘ ape ‘and I hope you will cooperate with 
 
 a Mr. Aaa had not boerstated 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. 
 
 “You tell him to stay here,” whispered Mr. . 
 - Tyson in Randy’s ear, and left the two boys to 
 _ themselves. ae 
 Pep grinned as he welcomed. Randy. He | 
 eeoved his injured arm to show that he \ was by 
 5 no means helpless. 
 
 : “T’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 ae I wouldn’t be any help 
 with my crippled arm.” 
 
 _ Then Pep in a modest way went on to give de- 
 tails of the accident. 
 
 You see,” were his concluding remarks, “Tm 
 _ eomfortable and well cared for here and, as the y 
 
 
 
 “a 
 & 
 
 ie 
 
 | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
86 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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.” 
 
 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 some- 
 thing destined to affect their whole business 
 career. 
 

 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE PRESS AGENT 
 
 _. “T warpiy know how to thank you, Mr. Vin- 
 
 cent,” spoke Frank Durham: 
 
 “Don’t try to,” replied the ventriloquist, in his 
 
 usual offhand way. 
 
 _ Frank, practically a beginner in the profession, 
 
 _and Hal Vincent, a seasoned graduate, were say- 
 
 ing goodbye to each other on the steps of the 
 
 building which contained the offices and ware- 
 
 ; rooms of the great National Film Exchange. 
 
 - 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 sup- 
 
 ply house in the small city near his home. He 
 
 found New York on a larger scale, however. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ven within the few months that had elapsed 
 nce he and his chums had started the Wonder- 
 d photo playhouse there had been improve- 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 ments, Pnavetion: and new eee without | 
 number. 
 
 Frank now came in contact with these. Tt 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. 
 
 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 ventrilo-— 
 quist, 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. 4 
 And still further, according to Vincent, Frank — 
 had secured a most favorable contract at Seaside a 
 Park, and was about to reap profits from a pro- a 
 ject that would set the pace | in summer outing | 
 resorts for the season. SAA: 
 
 “ Now this is confidential, Byllesby,? observed 
 Vincent, buttonholing the movies man and assum- 
 ing a dreadfully important air, as he glanced mys- 
 | teriously about the pte as if fearful of eaves 
 
 a 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 THE PRESS AGENT 89 
 
 roppers—* this 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, 
 
 rt 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—under- 
 stand?” 
 
 As said, Frank found that even within the six 
 
 months that had passed since he had bought their 
 original motion picture outfit science had beta 
 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. 
 
 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 pur- 
 
 chased and tell them about the satisfactory ar- 
 
 _rangements he had made for new feature films as 
 
 
 
 they, came along. He shook Vincent’s hand 
 

 
 go PICTURE cuums AT > SBASI ee ; 
 
 
 
 heartily i in tne Peat added a Seate or r two, 
 telling how he hoped they would see the ventrilo- i 
 quist down at Seaside Park soon. ‘ 
 | “T have a, fair chance of getting something 
 Oa out of the road venture that burst up and letta 
 NG me stranded when I ran across Jolly,” explained — 
 Vincent. ‘‘ As soon as that is settled, which may — 
 _be in less than a week, PIl be down at the new | 
 Wonderland—don’t doubt it. Move on a bit; 
 a will you, Durham?” Vincent spoke in a quick — 
 i -- understone, his eyes fixed on an approaching — 
 a pedestrian who at once attracted Frank’s atten- , 
 tion. ee 
 He was the typical ee 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 boca 
 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 aap. , 
 eye of the oncomer was fixed upon him and would 
 not leave him. . | ies * 
 “Ah, Hal!” he hailed: extending his paved § 
 hand with a bow of real elegence—* howdy. 
 
 Ay 
 
 Off ae circuit ? SO. am I. I see you are baat e 
 
 
 
 
 
 o> 
 
 
 

 
 gI 
 
 
 
 
 
 ared Reet. bluntly. 
 — “T expect a check,’ proceeded the newcomer 
 grandly. “ Avericious, but wealthy relative. If — 
 I could anticipate till to-morrow, now——” 
 s . Not from me, I can tell you that,” interrupted | 
 Vincent defiriitely. oie 
 4 “Only a dollar. You see . 
 _ “A dime wouldn’t make any difference until 
 ot get my settlement from the people who sent 
 ae out to starve,” insisted Vincent. 
 Frank was interested in the odd, airy individ- 
 baal, who struck him as a rather obsolete type of 
 ‘the fraternity. He smiled, and this was en- 
 couragement for the frayed actor, who touched 
 pps hat again and extended his gloved hand, this 
 time towards Frank, with the words: 
 “Surely we have met somewhere on the ty 
 boards? Was it in Philadelphia, when I was ryt 
 ‘press agent for the United Thespian? Perhaps | . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 . ee est 
 
 
 
 Frank good naturedly accepted and glanced 
 ver a very dirty and worn card bearing the in- 
 ir droderick’. James.-, Booth: Press 
 
 Frank shook his head, 
 
 
 
 
 
92 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE 
 
 ‘us. Could you anticipate 
 
 
 
 
 
 “If you mean of theatricals—hardly,” replied 
 Frank. “I have done a little in the motion pies 
 ture field.” 
 
 “ Ah!” exclaimed Booth, with a anima- 
 tion, 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? ” 
 
 *““T am Frank Durham,” replied our young 
 hero, “and with some others expect to open a 
 new motion picture show at Seaside Park.” — 
 
 “Ah, a hit! Think of it! Beside the sooth- 
 ing waves, dancing breezes, vast throngs, stupen- 
 dous 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 
 
 39 
 
 — 
 
 
 
 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. : 
 
 Mr. Booth almost danced as a crisp dollar bill 
 was placed in his hand. Then he took out a pen- 
 cil and memorandum book. Very uals and 
 
 ii he Desay to write: Pe 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 ‘THE PRESS AGENT 93 
 
 ne Pixciacn, cas Park. I. O. U. one us 
 Mem: suggest plan for publicity campaign.” 
 _ “You've put your foot in it this time, Dur- 
 ham,” exclaimed Vincent almost wrathfully, as 
 with a great flourish Booth went on his way 
 
 _ “Oh, pshaw!” laughed Frank, “the poor fel- 
 low probably needs a square meal.” 
 _ “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 ap- 
 ‘pearance 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 
 hater. 
 
 Frank was in fine spirits when he reached Sea- 
 
 Bide 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 im- 
 ‘mense amount of information. The man had re- 
 d uced his special line to a science and had made 
 
 oney at it, and Frank was greatly encouraged. 
 
 
 
 Prigeigsst 
 eye 
 

 
 Noa PICTURE CHUMS- AT S 
 
 It was late in the afternoon whew he starte ed 
 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 
 aa bore each a fine plain sign, and a very ornamental 
 si ticket booth was in place. Frank found the front 
 want doors partially open, and passed the length of 
 the great room to come unawares upon his 
 friends in the living quarters at the rear. 
 “Good!” shouted a familiar voice, and Ben 
 Jolly, wearing a kitchen apron and just getting 
 supper ready, waved a saucepan over his head i in 
 jubilant welcome. : Ne 
 e e “I say, you pcr have been doing some work 
 oes here since I left,” cried Frank, as he shook. hands 
 with Randy. “ Why, where is Pep?” 
 “There’s a story to that,’ explained Randy. 
 “He’s safe and sound, but may not be here fill 
 to-morrow or the next day.” 
 “Gone home to see his ‘folks? “ “hazarded 
 Frank. Whe 
 ‘No, not that,” disceated Randy. ne Tell ey 
 Frank, it’s quite a long story. Suppose we ‘get 
 the meal on the table, and seated Betcesuie > 
 and we'll allhave alot totell;eh?” 
 “ Just the thing,” voted Jolly ithe his u 
 enthusiasm. “I’ve got a | famous rice pu 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 Ba a s just what I will,” agreed Peanle 
 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. 
 
 “ Now then, Durham, you first,” directed Jolly. 
 2 How’s the New York end of the proposition? ” 
 _ “Famous,” reported Frank heartily. “ I’ve 
 im ade some fortunate discoveries and investments 
 2 pass the potatoes; will you, Randy?” 
 
 : 
 
 — 
 righty 
 
 “ Hold on!” cried a familiar voice—‘ I’m on> 
 
 the peeranine for some of that, too!” 
 
 ae 
 a 
 - mee “al 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 CROSSED WIRES 
 
 . Wry, hello, Pep!” exclaimed Frank i in joy: ol 
 
 _ ful surprise, jumping up from the table and greet- 
 ing the missing chum with a hearty handshake. 
 
 _ “Hold on—go a little easy on that hand, 4h 
 spoke the unexpected guest. “ It’s the one ig hurt 
 in that automobile accident, you know, and 1 not 
 quite as strong as it used to be,” i ee 
 “ What automobile accident? e inquired Fran kK 
 
 in | surprise. | ts A 
 pe Oh. thats: say peice in oes ae 
 ets Frank has just got back ae the ee and ae 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 7 ton until Saturday.” a a aie cee | 
 ott Humph! Had to,” aioe | 
 grimace. a Y a malty cS Ee 
 “ How is that?” a) Ja 
 
 
 
: gry a asa ae and had to walk eight miles to get 
 here before dark, and I'll feel better natured when 
 T ve had something to eat and a little rest.” 
 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 dur- 
 ‘ing 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 com- 
 fortable sum of money representing lost time. 
 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 ey that something 
 
 was up. 
 Be Teall”: us about this accident of yours, Pep? 
 
 urged Frank as all hands got over the first 
 
 -promptings of appetite. 
 
 “Randy will,” snapped Pep. 
 _ Randy was agreeable to the suggestion. He 
 
 was glad to descent on the heroism of his chum, 
 
 
 
 
 
 d dwelt mea: upon the bravery of Pep i in 3% 
 
 
 

 
 98 PICTURE CHUMS AT seasiDe PAR. 
 
 fine ee 
 
 risking his tite! 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 abe 4 
 sent partner. 4 
 * Well, Pep,” hailed Frank heartily, at the end. 
 of the story. “I suppose you’ve turned out an — 
 adopted son or great favorite wtih thie Mr. oe 
 son.” re 
 Pep had just finished a second netpine of # 
 Jolly’s famous rice pe and was Teady to 4 
 talk now. | | tim 
 “Oh, yes, I have! See me! he wetorked S as 
 scornful and disgusted way. ‘“‘ Say, the next fel 
 low 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 resi 
 dence. 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.” | 
 “What terms, Pep?” inquired Frank. nas 
 “I wanted something to do. I was dead 
 Vaart a hanging around ae no NEES seem : 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 {> 
 
 des CF ina pcs Sos —s | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 ex CROSSED WIRES 
 
 pe, 
 a Branch. Me a hie Wall Street concern in New My 
 York City. They do some business, too, and he ns 
 
 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 
 
 eame back and he set me at one of the tele- 
 phones.” : 
 
 _ “What doing, Pep?” inquired Jolly, 
 
 - Taking quotations and orders on the long dis- 
 tance. The ’phone was arranged on a standard _ xf 
 and I didn’t have to handle it at all. Ihadapad © 
 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.” | 
 
 “Sort of stock exchange business; eh?” pro- 
 ried Jolly. 3 fas 
 
 “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 rh te 
 ‘me to cut away from the movies and become a 
 second Vanderbilt. They kept me at the ’phone Bs, 
 yesterday, too. It’s too bad they did,” added 
 Pep greviously. “I reckon they think so now.” 
 
 _ “Explain, Pep,” urged the curious Randy. 
 
 ie ve, ppout two | O eae in the afternoon there _ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 00 PICTURE ‘cHUMS AT 
 
 was a rush of business. Eee in vee otice| 
 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 dis- 
 tance says: ‘Buy for Vandamann account at 
 twenty ’"—and then there was a hiss and a jangle 
 —crossed wires—see? ”’ | 2 ; 
 
 Pep’s engrossed auditors nodded silently, eager 
 to hear the remainder of his story. ~~ 
 
 “Then I got the balance of the order—as i 
 _ supposed— ‘one thousand shares Keystone Cen- 
 tral.’ Orders came piling up and I had all I 
 could do to write them down. ‘Buy one thou- 
 sand 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 Satur- 
 day, when the manager, mad as a hornet, came to 
 me. ‘You see Mr. Tyson just as quick a3) you 
 ean,’ he snapped at me, and I did. Mr. Tyson 
 had just found out that I had mixed orders. — 
 talked about crossed wire, but he wouldn’t heat 
 aword of it. ‘ The idea of loading us down te 
 that bustling stock at ea ne it was see ‘ 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 

 
 ie, and I’m a bloated bondholder.” 
 p drew a little package of green and yellow 
 uments from his pocket. He flung them on 
 table in a disgruntled way. Ben Jolly pie 
 m up and looked them over. 
 
 Heard of the Keystone Central,’ he ob- 
 ed—“lot of watered stock and new people 
 ng to squeeze out the old shareholders. 
 
 ybe a few dollars in these, Pep.” : B. 
 3ut the disgusted Pep waved documents ie ge 
 ark away with disdain. Pes 
 surn ‘em up; throw ‘em away—don’t care 
 you do with them,” he declared. “I am 
 : of the whole business. I want to forget how 
 ‘a poey makes a millionaire, and just get 
 into the gladness and bustle of the old mo- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 pers. “I'll just take care of the docu- 
 for you ea ney bob up in a new way — 
 
 
 
 
 
 aes Mr. Golly? ” here interrupted Frank. 
 ats so—my Sha is se isn’t it? Why, 
 
 
 
Seater Waa ieee was in yer ie and expect 
 they'll arrive to-morrow or the next day.” 
 “ By rail, of course? ”’ | oe 
 ** Oh, yes. It’s a ibe distances there sa Tot 
 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.” __ 
 ‘““We had better stock es new as to the seat- 
 ing feature,” said Frank, “seeing that we need | 
 double what we had at Fairlands. Well, boys, | 
 now fo show you what I have accomplished.” 
 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. ae 
 “Tt looks all smooth sailing; doesn’t it now?” ot 
 Randy submitted in his optimistic ig : 
 
 
 
CROSSED WIRES 103 
 
 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.” : 
 
 “No, no, friend Pep,” laughed Ben Jolly con- 
 fidently. “We've got too good a start in the 
 movies race at Seaside Park, and we’re bound to 
 
 2 93 
 
 will. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 BUSINESS RIVALS 
 
 * Put the brake on, Pep!” sang out Rand -. 
 
 “What's the trouble now?” inquired Ben 
 Jolly. “ Someone trying to kidnap you again? ” 
 
 Frank, Randy and Jolly, on their way to see 
 about their goods at the freight house, had scat- 
 tered precipitately as a bounding figure turned 
 street corner and almost crashed into them @ 
 
 ‘Glad I found you. Say, what did if ‘tell 
 you?” exclaimed the youthful sprinter. “ You 
 come with me and L 1 show you, ache! that 
 will open your eyes.” On 
 
 “Later, Pep,’ said Franke « We are on. ‘ol our 
 way to arrange for carting the A from. Fair. 
 lands up to the playhouse.” f ee 
 
 “It won’t take a minute,’ daunted: Pea 
 
 only a block or two away. Say, you'd b “4 
 
 come. I'll show ie a Ge that, will “set 5 
 thinking.” 
 
 ae ey Frank indueenaas et 
 
 M eet co t t foes 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ep lated the group in his usual impetuous 
 . Quite a busy boardwalk diverged from the 
 in boardwalk thoroughfare, and some minor 
 
 res and restaurants of the cheaper class occu- 
 pied the first block. . pe 
 About midway of the square was a vacant ae 
 ling, once a dime museum. Frank and his 
 
 ends had noticed this in their search for a. 
 usiness location. It was off the main routeof = 
 vel, however, and the building was old, ram- i: 
 ickly and set down from the street level, the | : 
 yt lying in a depression in the ground so that ae 
 
 had to descend three steps to the entrance. 
 
 
 
 ead Randy—“* ‘ National’ 
 
i. The mischief!” axclaiand Randy O 
 “Say,” remarked Jolly, bristling up at this 3 
 hint of rivalry, “we want to get busy.” 4 
 “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.” 
 “It’s worth looking up—always keep track of | 
 what your competitors are doing,” advised Jolly. 
 “Why I say,” suddenly remarked Frank— 4 
 “their sign is wrong.” y Kee 
 “How wrong?’ questioned Randy, Ht then q 
 he added: “ That’s so: ‘NATONAL.’ They’ve 
 left out an I.” 3 (a 
 “It’s so,” cried Pep, “ maybe they bought some : q 
 second hand letters and there wasn’t any I’s in a 
 the lot.” : Ban 
 ““Big New York fellow, i steered: Jolly. 4 
 thoughtfully. “Wonder who he is? Maybe — 
 you stirred things up in the city, Durham, cand 
 started somebody on our trail.” ee : 
 “Well, we must expect crea Ga, | replied 
 | Frank “Tt shan’t scare us.’ , 
 No, we'll stick to a first-class basis and be the 
 feaden.? declared Randy. © 2 
 “You fellows go on, 
 
 tf 
 
 spoke Foon a “ri te 
 
 99 
 
 yey Spy out the baleihs s pti ie 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ISINESS RIVALS” 
 
 U: bb ter auecaiy A) ¢: 
 N ational ’ pate on Paine ’ said Frank, and 
 they turned about and resumed their way to the 
 freight depot, leaving Pep to his own devices. — 
 _ Pep was not afraid to venture anywhere or ad- 
 dress anybody. He was inside the old building 
 
 nd had accosted the man he had seen outside ~ 
 within five minutes after his friends left him. 
 
 ‘he 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 
 noney at Seaside Park. Pep pumped him dry 
 so far as the arrangements for the show were ee 
 concerned. 4 eee 
 “Hello, Pep,” hailed him just as he went out- A, 
 ide again. ake 
 
 : te was in a fiery mood just now, but as he recog-- ae 
 nized young Peter Carrington and noticed that _ ie 
 e€ was Jicaded for the building he had just left, reg 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “Well, that’ s all right,” observed Peter in his aie 
 al airy manner— been into my show?” 5 
 be poue show! re | 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ne at Pep in a patronizing ‘sort on wa 
 “Oh, I see,” said Pep, “you're the SN, 
 Park capitalist I heard about?” , 
 a “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 busi- 
 ness, though. You fellows wouldn’t take me in — 
 and I had to get some other partners; didn’t I?” 
 he “Who are your partners?” ae Pep in- q 
 - nocently. eee 
 “Well, one of them is ; Greg Grayson. He's 
 from your town. You know him?” a 
 : “ Slightly,” assented toe: his lips Hae es fot @ 
 . gether grimly. " q 
 “A friend of his has invested something, too,” 4 
 rambled on the effusive Peter. “ Our mainstay, _ : 
 though, isa New York man. They say he’ s ‘way a 
 up in the moving picture line.” 
 “ What is his name?” pressed Pep. 2 
 “Mr. John Beavers—ever hear of him? By 
 “1 don't think T have<. 7 98 Se ae : 
 © That’s because you’re new in. tha es. | 
 hs declared Peter. “ He says he’s the first man whe 
 aan ever Started | a ence: picbate show.” | 
 
 oe eS 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 , Bio : a angele 1 cee Ota S ” insinuated Pep. 
 Well, he’s got a lot of investments that have 
 ed up his ready cash, he says, but he will stand 
 ack of us if we need more money.” 
 
 “Weill,” said Pep, “I must be moving on. 
 ‘The more the merrier, you know.” 
 
  “T must tell you,” hurried on Peter—‘* We’re 
 oing to have two private boxes in our show.” 
 “What for?” 
 
 “Oh, to make a hit. Friends, members of the 
 _ press and ‘all that—see? I say, Smith, I hope 
 : yon re going to ee professional courte- 
 sies.” 
 
 “What do you mean?” demanded Pep. _ 
 _“Complimentaries, and all that.” ; 
 “JT don’t think we are going to have any com- 
 plimentaries,” 
 
 
 
 pact, as he left the spot. “ Why, he hasn’t 
 
 
 
 
 
 friends were leaving it. They had arranged for 
 
 
 
 replied Pep. “Our space will be — 
 or sale; not to give away. That fellow run a 
 hoto playhouse!” snorted Pep wrathfully to 
 
 Pep. reached the freight house just as. fue et 
 
 e reception and delivery of their traps from 
 ‘Fairlands to the new playhouse. This meant busy 
 et mes, getting in order to open up for business. 
 ) told of his new discoveries as to the personr 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 110 PICTURE. CHUMS AT SEAS. 
 
 nel of the rival fin oF the s « Natonal’ a Vande i 
 flared up at once. et 
 “Tt’s half spite work,” he deoaten eoL his 
 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.” ark. 
 _ “Oh, well, as long as it is fair business tive | 
 alry, who cares?” submitted Jolly. “From the 
 start they’ve made I don’t think they will last q 
 oh ay long.” | 4 
 ee They will do all they. can to annoy us while a 
 they do,” declared Pep. a 
 Mane “Did you tell youne Carrington about the | 
 : missing letter in the ‘ Natonal’ sign, Pep?” ine | 
 quired Frank. | a 
 
 (ONO; I drdnit replied Pep, ungraciously. ae 
 “Think I’m around mending his blunders? — 
 Humph! guess not. If I had, do you know what a: 
 he would have said? ” | Aaa 
 ONO ;. what, Pepe? ‘Pressed Randy, with, “7 a 
 ee broad grin. An 
 Pe cele d Saye On: yes, ‘that’s SO. PRON, 
 can see it’s spelled wrong. Didn’t notice it be- 
 fore. Of course it should be “Natonel.”’” 
 All hands laughed at Pep’s sally. Then Frank 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ESS RIVALS — 
 
 ina dae 2 4 
 
 : did you ever hear of this John Redvers Mr. ; 
 
 
 
 2” Tp 
 Never did, Durham. I wonder ‘where the os 
 wd picked him up? Don’t think he’s a no- 4 
 though. Judging from the way he’s letting 
 
 m hold the bag, I reckon he isn’t much of a . 
 hey emerged upon the boardwalk as Jolly bar 
 acluded his remarks, Pep was the first to ~ a 
 scover a commotion amid the crowds ahead. 
 There’s some new excitement,” he cried. 
 et’s hurry up and se what it is.” - “Ap ee 
 ust then a man dashed Espen the throng f 
 
 
 
 vidual, fast overtaking him ala shouting as he 
 sf on inted : 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ALL READY! 
 
 Tur man in advance hanpened 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 an- 
 other minute, as he struggled to his feet, his pur- 
 suer pounced upon him. | 
 — “Why, look! Look!” ejaculated Pep. 
 
 “It’s Hal!” echoed Ben Jolly. 
 
 Frank and Randy recognized their friend the 
 ventriloquist simultaneously. The former was a a 
 good deal surprised, for he had bade Vincent 
 good-bye in New York City within the past” 
 forty-eight hours. He wondered what chad 
 Picuset Vincent to Sean Park; and more ‘an 
 
 " might mean. Bini’ 
 
 “Tve got you; have TP i ice ee t 
 making a grab at the fugitive and seizing him 7 
 the arm. Then he whirled ee n 1 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “reputation, you miserable ath) 
 
 = 4 a a chase; Mien: t you, AGler all I did for 
 
 3 rou! I made up my mind, though, I’d find you 
 
 and get back my po, if} had to chase you 
 
 half over the country.” | 
 “ Return coat in private—secluded spot.” rayet 
 “Take it off now!” i 
 ‘Leaves me without any.” 
 
 * 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 fugi- 
 tive by the shoulders, ran him straight up to the ye 
 tering trough. ye 
 Splash! splash! splash! * Ooo—oof! Leggo! © oe 
 Murder! ”’—a wild riot of sounds made the wel- 
 ring. ‘A’ fast-gathering mob bustled nearer. 
 ‘ipping, hatless, coatless, the helpless fugitive 
 S given a shove down the sidewalk by Vincent, 
 10 caened As confronted a police officer. — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 - name is Jack Beavers. 4 wae 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 saved you that, That. fel slinkdng | out oH 
 sight between those two Hee stole my coat 
 and I’ve got it back—that’s all’ | | 
 i Asthier seh es a 
 “Oh, he’s out of sight and I’m esha ad-— 
 vised Vincent. “I gave him free lodging sada 
 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 aM 
 town where there’s even door mats or lawn 
 -mowers lying around loose.” \ 
 Frank had picked up the coat oe the pave-_ | 
 ment where Vincent had flung it and he now 
 offered it to him. : | (a 
 “That you, Durham?” hailed the agi q 
 quist, mopping him perspiring brow—“ and the - 
 rest of the crowd? Howdy—I declare, I was 
 ruffed. I can stand anything but ingratitude.” 
 “ Who is the fellow, anyway?” inquired Jolly 
 _ “Oh, he’s been a hanger-on at the aah f 
 a sponge and dead beat for a tons Hers 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . Nea S inary * cried cee barely | 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 What new show?” inquired Vincent, quickly. 
 _ Pep told of the prospective photo playhouse 
 
 that had come to their attention that day. 
 “Say,” exclaimed Vincent, belligerently, when er 
 the information had been accorded. “I'll follow 
 his up and put that fellow out of business.” te 
 “JT wouldn’t trouble, Mr. Vincent,” said Frank. 
 
 We don’t want to give Carrington and his 
 tiends any excuse for claiming we are perse-_ Dig 
 uting them. If this man is the kind of fellow 
 ou describe, he will soon run himself out.” a 
 _“ And them, too,” declared Jolly. 7 | 
 “Birds of a feather—all of them,” commented 7 
 
 Vincent explained that he was due to return at 
 nce to the city. He expected to have his clam 
 gainst the company that had stranded him and 
 wed him money come up in court at any time, 
 nd wanted to be on hand to present his evidence. 
 “he boys, however, prevailed upon him to accom- 
 any them home and have at least one good, old- 
 shioned meal with them. Then they all went ioe 
 with him to his train. ee. 
 he ieee to see you soon Bea Hal,” remarked f 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 apace nt veores 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 arms of a ale old man jus Uedhae NORE of <4 
 me a coach arched its back at the well-counterfeited 
 : -, imitation of the ventriloquist, while its mistress a 
 Bye tan up the steps in a violent flurry. © sad 
 f “Let me out—let me out!” came next, ap- ! 
 parently from a big sample case a colored porter 
 was carrying for a traveling salesman. Down 1 
 came the case with a slam and the porter stood — 
 regarding it with distended eyes and seiees . 
 me whace: rat CUNO a 
 ans “‘ Lawsy sakes, boss!” he puignee wah you ou 
 : done got in dere?” and very gingerly and rap- — 
 idly he carried the case into the coach when ae 
 vailed upon to do so ey its somewhat startled © 
 owner. * _ 
 Then with a smile the yeretiie wien jumped 
 ty Ned of the train, waving his hand epee in 
 adieu to his smiling friends. 5 
 “A jolly good fellow, that,” connate: 
 _ Frank, as the train pulled out. “TI only hope we 
 will be able to afford to engage his is for the i. 
 ; new Wonderland.” oe Sh CS ; 
 “ You've just got to,’ t youitens lad 1 Pep. <e Fete: 
 aes regular Seapine card and a a show all in him- 
 ote And now. came the real. work» 
 
 = 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ALL READY! 117 
 
 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 lift- 
 ing, 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. 
 
 Jolly got track of a closed show at Brenton 
 where the chairs were for sale and drove an ex- 
 cellent bargain in their purchase, and also in the 
 delivery. 
 
 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 2 
 palace. ’ 
 
 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. 
 
 “Why, I saw that blaze three blocks down the 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 us PICTURE CHUMS SATs | 
 
 street,” declared a breathless urchin, ‘coming wp 4 
 on a run. : 
 “Yes, it was so bright I thought it was a a fie,” a 
 echoed a companion. ae 
 It was arranged that the three chums should ao 
 visit their hone town next morning. Jolly was’ 4 
 left in charge of the playhouse and told them to — 
 | have a good time and throw all care from their 5 
 minds, as he would be able to complete all the — 
 Rata arangements for the opening Monday night. " 
 The boys had a splendid time at Pe 
 They were highly elated over their business prog- 
 ress in the new venture and infused their families 4 
 and friends with their own enthusiasm and de- 4 
 light. The Fairlands weekly paper printed a nice © 
 article about “Three Rising Young aaeeee 
 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. y 
 “And now for the grandest event of. ‘our 
 eee ” announced Pep, ba the Cpenine 
 > | “Night!” MRR ae ss” 
 
 a 
 et 
 
 
 
 fs 
 hee 
 Ng 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
| 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 “THE GREAT UNKNOWN” 
 
 creen of the new photo playhouse. 
 Pep bustled about, broke into whistling and 
 
 Ben Jolly. The latter was quite as interested as 
 
 Pep in the doings of the day, only he concealed 
 oo the true state of his feelings. He set about mak- — 
 g preparations for breakfast as an excuse for 
 using Frank and Randy. ; 
 “Well, Pep, this is the big day of our lives; 
 eh?” propounded the good-natured cook, while 
 1 is accommodating assistant pee setting the bye 
 
 | th . finest ever seen,’ Veet eRe 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 for the evening breeze, and that means we 
 passing our place until late” = gh 
 It was a jolly quartette that sat Swi 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. ey 
 | “ There’s some song posters to put ‘up—they 
 M are due in the morning mail,” observed Randy. — 
 Yes, and if that new film winder is sent along 
 we might install it in place of the old one we 
 ee from Fairlands,’ suggested Jolly. ye a 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 we dad better,” assented Bran 
 
 had better see that the films run smooth.” e 
 
 - “T sent for a piano- tuning key to the ue Sat 
 
 urday,” said Jolly. ‘As soon as I get it i will 
 _ give the instrument a little overhauling. -Jolting ‘a 
 - over one hundred stiles in a. Rae car doesn’ 4 
 improve the tone any.” as RES haan 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 _ o'clock to get some © posters Ps 
 
 heh 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 satisfactory to themselves. 
 if Wonder what the National people are think- — 
 
 down " eee : BAe 
 _ “ They are going to open to-night—that’s one ae 
 thing I know,” reported Pep. 2 | fie 
 _ 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.” | 
 
 _ “JT 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. tae 
 _ “What's it to be—a nickel? ” inquired Jolly. 
 4 No a dime, he says; but he showed me a 
 - Bunch ‘of complimentaries and laughed and said 
 ee oe them cheap. I haven't set on eyes on id 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 in with the workman to get 1 thine in Noete 
 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 f 
 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. — 
 i. 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. Vane 
 It was about two o'clock in the afieniogn when | f 
 ats os * the lively Pep came into the Bee with a new a 
 excitement on his mind. a 
 Say, fellows,” he announced, “ we’ re eae 
 beat out.” 
 “ Hi! what’s up now?” aahor Ben oe 
 ce "The National without z an : ee Bor: us going. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 nade 
 
 for our ee free concert to- sige! rei 
 Nias te that so—hum!”” observed Jolly, cial 
 Weeds wish I’d thought ofthat. as suppose we 0 
 | to make s some fhe noise the openin : 
 

 
 
 rehearsal A.1.,” declared Jolly with a thrilling 
 reep of the piano: keys as the three films were 
 
 eled off from the operator’s booth. “ Slow on 
 
 at last picture, though, Durham. It’s a good | 
 
 ne and any audience will be Bee to see it pro- ere 
 
 39 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i of real salt ae blowing right into the 
 note, Lee Saat 
 
 oceeded oie “ Eh? What’s that? ae ae : a 
 it’s me. What is it, lad?” ria 
 eet boy from the hotel had oe 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 He delivered a note to that 
 The latter read it, his face breaking | 
 delighted s, ee ; 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 4 124 PICTURE cuums AT St 
 
 oe Say. my iseniee he Re hy seizin 
 hat and rushing unceremoniously from their c 
 pany, cach call, important though nent 
 Back soon,” and Jolly chuckled and waved | his 
 hand gaily. | ee 
 He was all smiles and still chuckling (hea h 
 returned, which was in about an hour. They hae 
 decided on an early supper so as to have plenty 
 of leisure to look over things before the play- 
 house opened, at half past six o’clock. ‘As a 
 starter, they planned to give three entertainmen Ss, 
 each beginning on the hour. | wy 
 “You seem to feel pretty good, Mr. Jolly?” 
 observed Randy, as they dispatched the appetiz: 
 ing meal, their helpful friend Pe ove r 
 with comical sayings. | 
 **Oh, I’ve got to live up to my name, yi 
 know,” explained Jolly. “Besides, alw. 
 dreaming, you see. Been dreaming this af 
 noon of Die houses, delighted throngs, pleasan 
 surprises,” and the speaker emphasized the 
 word, looking mysterious the while. 
 - Frank and Randy, full of the theme of. ‘th 
 hour and its practical demands upon their a 
 ities, did not notice this particularly. Pep, h 
 ever, eyed Jolly keenly. He lingered as his cht 
 got up from the table. Somehow the exa 
 ‘ ima a jolltty, of their ve to Pep’ 
 
 eee, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ae given to indulging a very lively Fahey 
 ow he went up to Jolly. Very searchingly 
 fixed his eye upon the piano player. Very 
 emnly he picked up one of Jolly’s hands and 
 yked up the arm of his coat. 
 
 " “Hello! ” challenged Jolly—“ what you up to 
 now, you young skeesicks?” 
 
 F* Oh, nothing,” retorted Pep—* just thought 
 ike to see ee you've got Be your sleeve, as 
 saying goes.” Epis. 
 Ah,” smiled Jolly—“ suspect something; do aes 
 
 Got a ‘right to; haven’ Ko Gee questioned Pep, 
 a 
 
 
 
 he Gest Unknown,” replied Ben Jolly, 
 h an enigmatical Siniles 2. | 
 
poe 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE SPEAKING. RICTURE 
 
 PEP was “on 1 pins and needles ” over the mys- 
 terious remark of Ben Jolly as to “ The Great 
 Unknown.” His friend was good natured abo 
 the matter, but parried all further. questio. 
 Then all hands at the new Wonderland beca 
 absorbed in their respective duties as partners anc 
 helpers in making the opening night of sunk ven - 
 ture a pronounced success. | ; 
 
 Randy could not resist the temptation ie taking 
 a run past the National. He came back with 
 
 his face on a broad grin. ae 
 
 was the report. “ a could see Cre and 
 mea about inside, Eye ine) 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 Bt Pep?” inquired Jolly. 
 bout their band. Bet you it's those four 
 
 
 
 a it clear across the front of the Hataanee 
 ads in big red letters, ‘Grand Opening.’ 
 
 
 
 1a as could be. 
 
 
 
 oe can imagine where er: 
 
8 PICTURE. CHUMS: Ar SEASIDE PAR. 
 
 wi 
 
 Pep kept his watch in ‘on hand and his e | 
 fixed upon it most of the time for the next hall 
 hour. He almost counted the seconds in his i 
 patience to see operations begin. He strolled 
 restlessly between the living room where his 
 : friends sat conversing, to the front of the ana 
 
 ress at each trip: . 
 
 “Lot of people looking over the place. : 
 
 *“ Quite a crowd strolling by as if hanging 
 around just waiting to get into the show. = 
 
 “Dozen children in line waiting to buy tickets 
 
 “Looks to me as if the people are heading 
 from the beach in this. direction. Hope we et 1 be : 
 able to handle the crowds. en 
 
 “ Say, Frank, it’s twenty minutes ay six.”” 
 
 “ The crowds will keep, Pep,” said Frank with 
 a smile. ‘ We’ve got to follow up a sae y u 
 know.” 3 
 
 “ For mercy’s sake, wt is that!” of “shou 
 Randy, suddenly. | jena: ei 
 
 There had swept in through the open a 
 upon the evening breeze a strange—a startling: 
 series of sounds: “ Ump! Ump!” “ Bla-aat b 
 _aat,” “ Flar-op, fae oo < ‘Tootle-tootle ” —a d 
 
 Es 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 cING PICTURE : We ee 
 
 1 ‘hold rie ss peed Randy, going into con- 
 ns of laughter—“ it’s that Little German 
 
 his seemed true, for they could trace the 
 yurce Of the music after a moment ortwo. They  —| 
 oceeded from the neighborhood of their busi- 17 
 rival. How they might sound directly at jay 
 source it was difficult to surmise. Arising © 
 om the hollow in which the National was lo- 
 ed, they lacked all acoustic qualities, like a 
 d playing into a funnel. 
 
 Twenty-seven minutes and a half after six,’ 
 ared Pep abruptly. 
 
 , All ppet ” nodded Lak arising son se 
 
 “e, a sharp, clear its call. ie 
 Ahem!” observed Ben Jolly, with significant ee 
 asis. aie 
 ank and Randy stood stock still. They were 
 ane and entranced, for after Ae rol- — 
 
130 PICTURE 
 
 clear and expressive notes eee a oaster of the | 
 cornet. The hour, the scene were in harm 
 with the liquid notes that gushed forth like gol ¢ 
 beads dropped into a crystal dishy NA 
 The wondering Pep, as if in a spell, move : 
 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. | The y 
 blocked the walk and the beach beyond it. — 
 hush showed the appreciation of this’ enchant 1 
 audience until the tune was finished. — ‘Then 
 air was filled with acclamations. i, 
 “Friend of mine—it’s all right. “Thought 
 sort of offset that brass band down at the | 
 tional,” sang out Ben Jolly at the Meee and o 
 
 
 
 sleeve.” “ All recity see ae eae ay 
 1 UA. chorus: of S Ah’'st and hee Mes i 
 forth as the electric sign and then the whole f 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 | bi in that he was all smiles and made every- 
 5 ody feel at ease instead of awed. Wonderland 
 could not have opened at a more favorable mo- 
 ent. A better advertisement than the cornet \ 
 solo’ could not have been devised. The crowd 
 tracted by the music lingered, and most of them ie 
 ided to take in the show. J alien 
 Nearly every seat in the house was ON a8 (0p aan 
 jolly began the overture. As the electric bell an- a ae 
 f ounced the darkening of the room Pep had to 
 unt for vacant chairs. 
 Pep was particularly attentive to Bahe cornetist, 
 who. entered the playhouse after giving asecond 
 tune on his instrument. . a re 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 e second was an airship specialty and went off 
 ery well. The feature film of the series was _ 
 A Wrecker’s Romance.” It had just enough 
 
 ol ee catch with the audience. There was 
 
 
 
 
 
132 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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. 
 
 Suddenly the lone figure on the beach lifted his 
 hands to his lips, formed into a human speaking 
 trumpet. 
 
 The audience, rapt with the intensity of the 
 incident, were breathlessly engrossed. They 
 could anticipate his forlorn call amid that deso- 
 late scene. , 
 
 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: 
 
 “Ship ahoy!” 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 A GRAND SUCCESS ey 
 
 A DEEP hush pervaded the audience. The peo- | 
 ple were spellbound. Even Pep, standing against ha 
 side wall, felt a thrill pass through him. So 
 
 | tural and fitting had been the climax of the pic- 
 re that its effect was apparent in a general rus- a 
 ing—a deep breath that swayed the onlookers. a 
 ‘The wrecker turned and his lips again moved 
 as if to form for a signal whistle. Shrilly the 
 wavered about the scene. — Et 
 ‘A talking -picture!”” Pep heard someone  —>- 
 
 i Ae s great! ” echoed another voice. le 
 
 
 
 ing down the beach. Its young master held a 
 coil of rope in his hand. He seemed swayed by 
 flicting emotions. Then he appeared to ar- 
 e at z a conclusion. j 
 
 
 
 
 
 _ He secured one end of the rope LAs 
 ae the animal and made signs. The _ 
 
 
 
x ss dog li lifted hie ona A A joyous, 
 bark rang out. It was real—like the « a 
 the whistle. 
 
 - fied way. 
 
 ; The dog disappeared. Then a ins oh : 
 showed far out at sea and there sounded out th 
 
 i distant echo of the foghorn of 2 a steamer. At Ww 
 
 he 
 
 oy 
 
 _ than one among them habe bis lost binnsels an 
 almost fancied he: was ene on | that fone 
 
 by the faithful dog to. the siperaled. ships 
 safety line was sent ashore. Passengers and cre 
 were all saved and among them a beautiful ; ac 
 girl. Bae 
 The last winnie showed a Nore. ee i 
 - grounds of the home of the father of the 
 girl. She was ee a bogie in a vernal sig 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 * Must be one of those new speaking pictures.” 
 y Oh, we must get all the folks to come to this. . >. ie 
 ghtful show!” iN: 
 Pep’s heart beat pr oudie as the audience filed ie 
 ut and he overheard this encouraging praise. ee 
 e could hardly contain himself. Then he no- ng 
 ed Ben Jolly beckoning to him and he glided 
 er to the piano. Jolly’s face was one broad fi 
 lighted smile. | . a 
 _“ How was it, Pep?” he inquired. re 
 No, what was it!” corrected Pep in a fluster, ba 
 
 ned seated—and he guessed something. 
 ‘Him? ” he est: 
 
“Did you Henne HA you notice 
 Pep, excitedly. 
 “Why, of course,’ ’ replied Frowle 
 understand it at first, but 1 know it must be some 
 professional imitator.” | | 
 SESS TE was Mr. Vincent. He ‘wore a. false 
 beard.” | ey 
 Vou don't say so!” cried Bean | 
 “Yes, and he was the cornetist outside too,’ 
 Pep went on. 
 Ad a piece of Mr. Jolly’s wore T anes | 
 * Of course,” replied Pep. ‘“ When he got tha 
 message this afternoon Mr. Vincent was probab 
 at the hotel. Then he arranged to surprise us 
 “It’s more than a surprise—it’s given tor 
 and novelty to the whole entertainment.” 
 The routine of set duties prevented the be 
 from prolonging the conversation. Jolly h 
 begun the intermission overture and the sea 
 were filling up fast. A good many had remain 
 from the first audience. It took little circulat ng 
 among the benches for ‘Pep to learn that “A 
 Wrecker’s Romance,” with its. realistic ie 
 tation, was Pact | for this. Mee ats 
 
 
 

 
 
 VD SUCCESS ep ea 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 rival playhouse. Home- -going eee fron. ee 
 beach made a stop. mid 
 “Nearly fifty people turned away,” reported 
 a andy, as Pep slipped out to have a word with 
 \him. 
 
 “There must have been over eight hundred 9937, 
 _ admissions,” figured Pep. | gee 
 if id One thousand, one hundred and fifty exact «0g 
 y,” reported Randy. 
 
 « Why, say,” cried Pep, * ‘at that rate we're 
 oing to be rich!” ; 
 
 “Hey, young fellow,” hailed a man appearing 
 at this moment—“I suppose there’s a free list 
 for friends?” | abe 
 “TJ should say so,” responded Pep, recognizing  __ 
 
 , ae 
 he workman at the National he had gotten so 
 chummy with. “Step right in, although I'm ee 
 fraid I can’t offer you a seat.” : aa 
 
 
 
 “Crowded as that; eh?” spoke the man. 
 “ That’ s fine.” 3 
 “How is it at the National?” asked Pep. 
 Do they keep busy?” vt 
 a es seat taken, but then you on they’ 
 es sayy? proca 
 
 
 
 
 
ay curious ee the proce dings af stag 
 
 Carrington and his friends oa tai 
 “T should say they did! They ad to as 
 
 boards for seats and several of them iain in two 
 
 y 
 
 some private boxes?” 
  Dhey did, for a fact. They were no use and 
 
 chairs about, but he got in there waa some chuth | 
 First thing we knew one of them shifted his posi - 
 tion, and the three of them went fiat the et 
 
 * Well, I ieee ‘ spoke Jolly, 2 an ee k 
 “as he came to the front of the eps 
 Vincent. 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 the lights been left on and the ticket office 
 n many of them no doubt would have entered 
 ‘playhouse. | 
 
 Randy, hugging his tin cash box under his arm 
 ‘ ith ‘great complacency. “It couldn’t have been 
 @ “ guess we've hit it this time,’ pronounced 
 Pep, proudly. hari 
 “That isn’t always so hard to do at the start,” 
 a1 dvised Hal Vincent. “It’s keeping it up that 
 ‘counts, You want to advertise now—new stunts, 
 ‘novelties, attractions.” | 
 : teens! ” cried Pep. ‘‘ Can the best of 
 | 1em beat those cornet solos? Novelties! Why, 
 ose talking pictures will be the hit of the town.” 
 -~ “Vou are a famous friend, Mr. Vincent,” 
 ke Frank, warmly. | 
 “And ought to be a famous man,” supple- 
 
 cial ‘programme, Durham.” 
 i got ‘through with my city lawsuit just in 
 
 were hey te peeer about the Rencle Ay : 
 
 “Enough is as good as a Hee} laughed : 
 
 nted Jolly, loyally. ‘“ He’s worth gaan ona 
 
 ” explained Vincent. “ ‘Made quite a good 
 tlement, too. First pata I did was to release, 
 
 
 
 
 
4 ‘Then give your orden) ple 
 Seaside Park forthwith, Mr. Vincent,” ”* direct 
 Frank, spontaneously. “ I’ll risk saying that 
 can pay you what is fair for a month’s steac 
 run at least.’’ | 
 
 ba! hs 
 ‘, 
 
 the line ; don’t oF Pep?” ss Reais the a 
 
 -on the shoulder. 3 SENN 
 “Oh!” cried Randy, “ we're sai _ 
 kinds of fame and fortune at Seaside Park.” 
 “ By—the—wild—sea—waaa-ves!”” added 
 versatile Vincent, throwing his” dn 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 BOASTFUL PETER 
 
 “ SomeEsopy at the door, Pep.” 
 
 © All right, I'll attend to them.” 
 
 _ Jolly was rearranging the chairs after sweep- i: 
 ing out the playhouse and Pep was dusting, 
 when there came a summons at the front fen: 
 ‘It was a smart tapping and Pep wondered whon 9 
 t could be. He released one door to confronts, 2 7a 
 an, impressive-looking individual, with a light oe 
 ‘ane in his hand and a facé that somehow made 
 
 ep ae of a stranded actor. 
 
 _Impor- — 
 
 
 
 2 oo a This way,” directed Pep, and he ie 
 d the ileod to the nee room at the ‘rear. 
 
 
 
eed 
 
 Pca te pi 
 
 Vindent into’ Frank's: ear “the 
 eyes on the newcomer. Hey 
 “Ah, Mr. Durham—forgotten me, vee iene : 
 pose?” airily intimated the visitor, as he entere } 
 the room. aR Ma 
 “Not at ail,” replied Rone wide a pclae 
 smile, as he arose from the desk at which he 
 was seated. i 
 Jolly had got hold of a very < Meueae me des 
 in his trading. It had been set in a convenien 
 corner of the room and constituted the ‘ ‘office 
 of the Wonderland. Seca 
 It was the ubiquitous Booth whee Fra 
 greeted. He knew the man at a glance and 
 did Vincent. The latter viewed the new arri 
 suspiciously and with a none too cordial bow 
 There was something that appealed to Frank | 
 the visionary old fellow, RONEN en and he treat d 
 him courteously. ren 
 
 A demeanor, Mr. Booth drew out. a r 
 Be aai book with’ several bank notes - | 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 g aid Peistiened his teat Bad eyeglasses, Peet 
 “T have some very pretentious business offer- = 
 gs for you, Mr. Durham,” he volunteered. 
 However, before we proceed any farther, there 
 a matter of unfinished business—a_ trivial 
 bligation. Let me see?’ and he flipped over 
 3 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. 
 
 “Many thanks, Mr. Durham. Adversitg is ia 
 he common lot, and such cheerful assistance as a 
 that which you accorded me at New York City — 
 s of the kind that keeps the human heart warm 
 V ith those who. honorably expect to pay their 
 debts. Now then, sir, to the SM dea business 
 mission which brought me here.” 
 
 “a Vincent looked darkly suspicious, Frank mildly 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “T am very glad to hear that” 
 heartily. 
 
 “Beyond my Lypectrone i may say,” de 
 clared the enterprising advance agent. “Yo 
 are open’ for curtain’ feattires; Sint | a eae 
 “Of the right kind, most certainly,” assente 
 Frank. He er 
 
 “High class with me, sir, always,” declare 
 Booth. “I have one contract of quite som 
 magnitude. It is a continuous one, with a fe 
 ture that will enhance your business material 
 Perhaps I had better show you. How is tha 
 aire 
 
 The advance agent presented a card. Uae 
 a photograph had been pasted and under this ¥ wa 
 the reading: Nae 
 
 “Who am I? Meet me ae ve erga 
 
 “Why,” smiled Frank in some mystificatiot 
 “this is a picture of the back of a man’s head? 
 
 “Exactly so—that’s just it!” nodded Boo 
 animatedly. ‘In me you see the inventor 
 that most original idea. I wish you to have t at 
 made into a slide. You throw the picture 
 the screen during the intermissions. A bla 
 card i is S given to sie oe with the mae 
 
 spoke Fra : 
 
 93. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 =: rds are éollected, To those who guess cor- 
 rectly a one-pound box of finest chocolates is 
 elivered 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?” 
 
 _ “Why, I must say it is quite a novel and in- 
 
 - genious plan,” admitted Frank. © 
 
 “Got to have some attraction like that to in- 
 terest new business, sir,’ declared Booth. “I 
 
 have presented the plan to you first, because you 
 
 ood my friend in time of need and because J 
 
 am informed that you operate the leading play- 
 thouse here at Seaside Park.” | 
 
 _ “Are you authorized to make a deal on that 
 business, Booth?” inquired Vincent, in a blunt, 
 matter-of-fact way. 
 
 og “T am,” replied the advance agent with em-— : 
 _ phasis. “My client will sign a contract. He is Wee 
 c one of the most reliable business men in the com- ae 
 ~ munity. In later curtain features, first the rear Aes 
 e view and then the front view and advertisement — is 
 of my client’s business will be delineated on the 
 screen. I have several other features to follow 
 his one. I can make it worth your while to 
 nter into a contract.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 : T ye, 
 
 
 
 
_ the entertainments. i 
 “I declare, that is the first coherent scheme. 
 ever knew Booth to put through,” asserted Vin- 
 cent, as the advance agent took his departure. 
 “Tf he sticks at this in a business- like way it 
 - looks as if he would make some real money. as : 
 
 ham. You needn’t be surprised if he drops in 
 some day with one of his wild Scan like 
 
 snail change on hand,” ade ae Jolly. ; 
 | org what about the cay shows?” 
 
 ihe day,”’ replied Prank, 
 : ta ey, day after to 
 
 
 
fe eat a Rate ai 
 t Nase The 
 
 oy aed 
 ha 
 siete 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 147, 
 
 
 
 poles at the allusion. As they passed 4 
 1 the steps of the bank they came face to — Nee 
 ace with two of their business rivals. They 
 Peter Carrington and Greg Grayson. Pep 
 
 
 
 be boys and were Sie ut to pass on their 
 ‘old on, ” sang out Beet in his usual abrupt 
 “Had pate a house last ent, didn’t 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 148 PICTURE _cHums 
 
 
 
 at: matter Dae your private De ‘ 
 3 Oh, accidents will Lapel returned Re 
 “Say, look out for a big hit, though, in a 
 ot two.” | 
 Sst hae eon. said Pep. 
 “You bet! Isn’t that so, Greg?” . ae 
 Greg Grayson assented with a nod. He looke d 
 mean and probably felt the same way. He had 
 sense enough to reais that his past record we 
 
 
 
 showed him up in a poor light. A 
 “Yes, sir,” vaunted Peter, swelling as ifs § : 
 big idea had sprouted in that dull brain of 
 “we're going to spring a motion picture se 
 
 Pe 2 
 
 tion on Saas: Park that will about make a 
 
 
 
 
 serve it if you faa the ape thing.” 
 “Well, we just have,’ boasted. Peter. } 
 $0 Bo0d that I shouldn’ « wonder if it he 
 
 
 
 
 
 better poly out of ‘the way,” ate 
 “The National sion come > to stay, Tca 
 ek 2 4 be ty 
 
 
 

 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 THE GREAT FILM en Sas 
 
 “was unusually excited. OS, 
 im “Yes,” nodded Hal Vincent, “this is one of eS 
 
 ae as much as oahey do now; but you take 
 oyal coronation, or a national auto race, or an — wat Be 
 : hquake, or liner lost at sea, and thats the aio 
 PIE feature that ie public run after for about a 
 r onth. es : 
 
 | “Vou ve _ got. to get in at them at the start,. 
 
 hough,” “suggested Jolly. ae: 
 Always. The event advertises itself and the 
 
 men give it a new start. Why, to open up 
 oe shows, this flood film would be an ain sik 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ra 
 
 
 
9? 
 
 in the “movies” line, THe ioweven eae 
 enough aan the business to realize that t 
 
 oN The letter they had eae advieed, hen 
 that within two days the “ Great Flood Serie \ 
 of films would be offered for lease. The supply ? 
 
 was limited and on this account one film h 1 
 been sere tens to certain tenia ~The x ig 
 
 ie est bidder in each distticd ° an 
 a he flood film covered a national disaster 
 
 “Public charity had ae appealed to pi 
 were relief funds all over the aha a 
 
 Be ioe is to oe ity) : 
 
 Na An cen at quick,” added Vincen 
 attractions are grabbed. fora 
 But the: caste” suggested ‘ra: 
 ee “Oh, it is never ;, 
 
 
 

 
 here, ay can ienate me Gee out of your 
 pe € staff. T'll go to ite city and pur 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i Oh, they a One ie a night or so,’ brated 
 cent. “ Another thing, I ordered my outfit, 
 ich was levied on at the stand down country 
 e my last venture showed, sent to New York 
 y before I knew I was coming down here. 
 lere’s some new wardrobe properties I want, 
 so I can do double duty while I am in the 
 
 y oud stand as a maximum figure, but con- 
 rable discretion was left to their representa- 
 
 Randy and Pep Br oued down to the depot 
 7 Vincent. | Sonia 
 See who’s here,” saddeaty observed Randy. © | 
 Peter shee ma loud’. checked’ suit, 9 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 drew away from the ee Vee centered th 
 chair car when the train alps: in ares 
 
 “Hello, going your way,” observed Randy. 
 
 fed ‘Say, suppose he’s after that new featu 
 a film?” inquired Pep, excitedly. ‘i aM 
 ae “ Might be,” observed Vincent, carelessly. “ 3 
 that’s the big card they were bragging abou a 
 they haven’t landed it yet. Glad you mention } 
 i that point, Pep. I'll get busy.” COE 
 a te) - There was a great deal to attend to that Fi y. 
 va The season had commenced with the finest of 
 weather and it bade fair to continue indefinitely x 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ek “Tell you what, fellows ie ond): to oe ‘ 
 ey and Pep, “Mr. Jolly thinks he had oe ht 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ne cost. I hardly think we ey Rue any 
 he Ne until next week, unless our compe : 
 d Then of course we will have to show 0 
 ae : | ry 
 “Well, I can tell you that they 
 asleep,” declared Peps: es 
 ~“ Wow is that? ’” Ont Jolly. | 
 
 ‘ T saw my friend who works bite 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘be is se ae a 
 sire nat a 
 
 . Ske Aa 
 t of the National. He don’t know exactly 
 
 ‘Well know to-night,” said Frank. ‘Mr. 
 
 The boys were brisk and ready for the even- 
 ing’s entertainment when the hour arrived. 
 here 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 resi- 
 ents. This spoke well for the reputation the 
 onderland had already gained. 
 
 The first house was only fair. There was, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ee 1”? 
 
 . d erie young man! 
 
 
 
 said the Wie ig as 
 
 
 

 
 ie Carrington, Bue he was s forced ab 
 the on-pressing crowd. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 enka seats. among the few left. | 
 Pep felt that he was on ead behavior. 
 the eyes of their lady patronesses upon th 
 When they arose to leave at the end of the h 
 
 he slipped over to the operator’s booth and 
 ER vised Frank of the presence of their dis 
 RG guished company. The aie ae drew a 
 
 
 
 ae well ordered place, Mr. Durham,” said Mrs. #8 
 " rington. Se | Roa 
 
 “ And your iastenal isclea of ¢ films,” np: 
 Miss Porter, brightly. “As to your pianist, 
 is an expert, and your usher oo pert 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 i GREAT FILM 
 
 declared Prank eT can assure you of 
 
 es I am sure it will. I told you so, Mrs. Car- ae 
 ‘rington,” spoke Miss Porter. “Peter talks as 
 it ough you were sanguinary enemies, but I knew ! 
 i was nonsense as far as you are concerned. J ine 
 don’t like the man he has taken in with him,a es 
 Mr. Beavers, however. I told him so yesterday, fee 
 met with a rebuff for ay interest I eas Me 
 n Peter’ s welfare.” 4 : 
 pag That little lady is our champion, all right) sere 
 teclared Pep, returning from escorting the ladies "e 
 > their automobile. : Qs 
 When the boys came to reckon up the proceeds 
 the evening they found them to be several = 
 aiiars over what they had taken in the first 
 ght. They were congratulating themselves on 
 ir continued good fortune when Hal Vincent 
 
 in an appearance. He had a great paper roll 
 
 wu der his arm and looked brisk and contented. 
 
 ; ‘Well, Hal? " ola Jolly, in a cheery, ex- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 oT want to show you something,” was the 
 : triloquist's reply as he Bene the roll upon 
 

 
 
 156 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 tractive. They depicted striking and thrilling 
 events of “ The Great Flood.” :. 
 “Twenty-five sets go with the films,” he ont 
 plained. a 
 “And you've got the films?” said Jolly. 
 “T couldn’t bear to leave them behind,” : 
 plied Vincent, with a smile. “I’ve got mea and 
 the price won’t break ae 3 it’s at the cost ot 
 making a deadly enemy.” 4 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 _ GETTING ALONG : 
 : “Wao S the enemy, Mr. Vincent? ” inquired . 
 
 
 
 “That doesn’t sound so dangerous,” declared — | 
 fa lightly. 
 Tell us about it, Hal,” urged Jolly. 5 
 
 There, ist toa. lot to tell,”’ ae NeMeRG 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 on of the season, so I hot- footed a 
 from the ‘train. ~ Phere you are, sir,’ 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mr. Carrington,’ said the Caetion polly Tt 
 firmly. ae xn 
 “Td like to know ehy you can eye Here 1 
 Peter. ‘That check is good as gold, and 
 _ aunt has a little fortune in that same bank,’ 
 “* All right, get someone in New. York | to 
 dorse it and you can have the goods,’ advised 
 cashier. ‘It's no discrimination, Mr. Carring- 
 ton. We make this a stringent rule with a al 
 out-of- ‘town customers.’ ) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 eT ently. 
 ni Bete 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ) oe sist there. Pics nearly tad | 5 i a 
 it. uae he dived for the door. I found out aE 
 
 ne Timi when Peter rushed upon the scene once 
 re,” narrated Vincent. “| He as a big wad | 
 bank notes out of his pocket. ‘Pack up that = 
 f,? "he ordered sourly, ‘ and cancel all our other j 
 | Tm going to a new place where they 
 : "t question my Bot on a aap sumi like 
 
 ‘ ‘Hold on,’ I put in, ‘I don’t want to take eh 
 ntage peta competitor. Fair. and’ :square,) 74,99 
 agton. hee want the film, bid for it? 
 
 : boasted Peter. a, 
 
 
 
 ore Peter, unas over the bills in 
 I haven't much more Te, cash here 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Digs ee PICTURE cHums AT SI 
 
 the bluff took. I ed ohne the handeed ane f 
 you gave me, but I was nervy, and it beat Pete 
 I fancy Jack Beavers had set a limit, or the real 
 money wasn't flush at the National an : 
 
 were so interested in the new film that they h 
 to give it a trial run. It was all the lurid adv 
 tising claimed for it from start to finish, and 
 an took thirty-five minutes to run it—the scenes | 
 __ picted held the interest. 
 _ > “Ts well worth the’ money,? cae 
 Jolly enthusiastically. “ Now then, to oar 
 to the limit.” : | + 
 The transparency frame built for ne Nati 
 remained in place, but its muslin covering did 
 contain the announcement expected by Pet “ 
 his satellites. Even Hal Vincent, well as 
 knew Jack Beavers, was greatly ae 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “It’s pretty bad taste,” he criticised. ; 
 take with a certain: element, but. it won't 
 
 
 
 on that Thursday iene he! posters | 
 Morea in the various mepees ws: 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 161 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GETTING ALONG 
 
 ing entertainment. A ladies’ charitable associa- 
 tion, active in raising a fund for the flood suf- 
 ers, was a Ong the audience Friday night. 
 
 _ “It’s a go,” voted Ben Jolly, as Randy reported 
 4 over. a hundred ‘people turned away from the 
 doors. “If I were you, Durham, I would wire 
 the Exchange for a Ca days’ contract on that 
 film.” 
 
 _ 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 Mon- 
 day. This crowded a little but not to any notice- 
 able discomfort.. | 
 
 Pep, always on the scent for information re~ 
 rding their competitors, came in with a new 
 ulletin at supper time. _ 
 
 vA Things are getting sort _ eed down at 
 e National, I hear,” he remarked. i ge 
 *‘ How’s that, Pep?” questioned Jolly. 
 
 “ They had a rough crowd among the audience 
 t night and there was a fight. Two, women 
 
 
 
 
 abc fellows yesterday afternoon down at the 
 
 
 
 pred and several had their pockets picked by | 
 
 , ese Jack Beavers with a ee of hard- 
 
 ” said Vincent. v2 That won't pay eae i. 
 
rounds,’’ said fetes. 
 Pep. 
 
 As Everio Wy the motion edn ch m 
 and their friends, the throngs that evening be 
 all records. Pep forgot to look for suspi ious 
 characters or trouble. Everything went smoot | 
 up to the last show, when he noticed four | 
 gering fellows come in. 
 
 feet and talked loudly. oA few minutes hee : 
 like group gained admittance and took 
 
 among the rear rows of seats. ‘There were 
 
 yet 
 
 fy “And rush ea crow wd int e 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 163 
 
 wish ing could as one of the beach police- 
 en to show himself,” said Pep. ‘‘ That would 
 care them off. Those officers are friendly to us, 
 won't make a move until a real row is on.” 
 
 I think I can help out on this proposition,” 
 arked Vincent, and Pep noticed that he passed 
 
 nt, behind the main room. 
 
 Vhen the lights came on for a moment be- 
 en the first and second film Pep stared in blank 
 rise at a figure standing against the side wall. 
 as that of a police officer fully uniformed, 
 n 1 to the stout club usually carried. He was 
 
 e Pep so apprehensive. 
 pes Mr. Vincent, ” guessed Pep— shod fet 
 
 The versatile ventriloquist it was. His exten- 
 
 
 
 ough the doorway leading to the living apart- 
 
 ten feet away from the quartette that had 
 
 tht imme Ty ime 
 
 mo eS ce ee ee 
 
film i is over.’ 
 “In what way?” inquired Vincents 
 “The two men at the end of the front s 
 ~ here—Midway crowd—I want eta ‘ 3 
 “Want them?” — | fy ae 
 “Yes, I am an officer from the city I'l yV 
 you my credentials later. The two fellows aj me ‘5 
 
 i ee 
 
 case.’ eo. cee. Se 
 “What do you want me to > do?” @ * iosuied \ 
 cent. | nt 
 
 ute their eyes light o on me. You gabe th 
 fellow. I'll attend to the other an Th 
 _the usher out for more police help.” 
 
 “ All right,” assented ignas i « only ¢ 
 quietly as you can. te 
 reputation of the show by any rough 
 
 “Oh, they’ll wilt when they see 
 
 - nered. Another word Nin | 
 
 PE Vase? eh ae at i | 
 
 “ Help me to do this job Hee ly na 
 _ fine reward to divide.” $i) “ 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 A RICH FIND 
 
 » 
 
 \s a oe came on again the man who had 
 
 Soe added ae and Hal | : 
 a upon the other man in true off- 
 heard what se took for ciee ia 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 | whistles fon the Chee Nae ‘on the pa 
 
 TaN Oe 
 
 whom he noticed burrowing their Mies thi ous 
 
 
 
 
 way,” he Ds to the New Yous officer, and 1 
 his prisoner into the as | rooms. 
 
 the officers sent for. He advised Renee 
 _ Randy that “something was up’ ’ and made Sut 
 that the latter got started for He rear "with 
 
 He stood there! on guard uadl be ivo 
 men and the officer from the as came ou 
 
 
 
 
 ra. out any row a minting er ie : 
 
 “What have those men. been i 
 cent? a anes a as s th 2 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 its Desi ined the ventriloquist.“ Tt seems he 
 as been on their trail for a week. Located them 
 t the Midway and traced them here to-night.” 
 “Get your broom, Randy,” ordered Pep, con- 
 ng his watch. 
 
 What for?” 
 
 We've got just forty-eight minutes before 
 welve oe We want to sweep out We ‘then. 
 
 Besides, it’s a satisfaction to see 
 
 
 
 a rou ia aae me, Randy,” said Pep, as his com- 
 . into the end of the center aisle 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘put of the way.” tia ; 
 While his cot Fats was gone ae the owen 
 question Pep began poking about in the accun 1 
 lated heap swept up. He always did this bef 01 
 the heap was placed in the rubbish box and 
 dumped out of a side bret into a coal 
 standing beneath it. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . “Think saa rll ae ‘and Pep) ?D 
 2y, ” he added with animation, 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 A RICH FIND) Pe 16 
 
 had Needed Be the little chamois bag. It 
 sparkled and dazzled. _ 
 
 “Gold!” uttered Randy. 
 
 And diamonds!” added Pep with zest. “It’s 
 necklace. It’s handsome enough to be real, but 
 that can’t be.” 
 
 “Why not?” challenged Randy. 
 
 “Oh, it would be worth a small fortune. 
 fho’s going to drop a thing like that i in a ten- 
 nt motion picture show?” 
 
 a. Mr. Vincent,” suggested ah 
 
 e ae rooms. 
 ‘I want to show you something, Mr. Vin- 
 £7? 
 
 nt said Pep, approaching the ventriloquist, 
 ho with Jolly was dispatching supper at the 
 
 Ww hy,” exclaimed Vincent, as Pep bated 
 | him the chamois bag and held up to the light 
 the necklace it contained, “ where in the world 
 did you get this?” 
 
 “T should say so!” cried Jolly, his « eyes fixed 
 n the shimmering article of jewelry. 
 ie swept it ap, Nel Pep. 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 —a thousand dollars: and nave Been , 
 
 Pep gave utterance to an excited. wh ei 
 Randy Tooled bewildered. Frank, busy at hi 
 desk going over the contents of the cash : 
 arose from his chair and like the others bec: 
 an interested member of the group. rey 
 “Some lady must have carried it a te 
 it dropped from her pocket,” he i 
 
 for ite } i 
 “Whoever it belongs 4 to 5 will be ars lo 
 _ for it quick enough,” declared Vincent. . 
 | “T hope there will be | some kind of | a r 
 said Randy. _ SN Cae 
 
 eS 
 
 
 
 
 
 3%) 
 
 i: eae no we divide, 
 you?” lauehed Jolly. «y ‘say, D: 
 friend Booth must know of this. i 
 
 -~ whole column in the newspapers. ‘ E> 
 
 : fashionable audience at the Wonderla 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ie for thes actress.” 
 : Frank took Ba of the chamois bag and de- 
 osited it in the tin cash box. This he locked up 
 nd as usual took it into one of the apartments 
 here he slept. 
 “We shall have to keep special watch over all 
 that valuable stuff until the bank ance Monday 
 morning, * he explained. | 
 y Randy hung around, wrought up with lexi. 
 nt over their wonderful find and anxious to | 
 k about it. Pep was very tired and went to his 
 ot to rest. Frank, Jolly and Vincent sat with 
 eir feet on the sill of an open window, enjoying 
 e cool breeze from the ocean and indulging in 
 sant comments on the first successful week of 
 e Wonderland. — ae ay. 
 With the flood film fed the ts act of 
 
 Pre felt Oe ee 
 
 he great ae entertainer, ‘Signor Halloway 
 
 Bcd Ben ole Pi ae 
 “Guess I'll turn in, too,” remarked ene ie: 
 after wandering about the room aimlessly for ot 
 
 
 
 oat ae 
 

 
 
 “2 PICTURE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 fi the apartment here Pe 
 contained two cots. He had started over to 
 
 glanced out. : a 
 “Fire!” he He Shonen and rushed « o 
 into the room where the others were. Spa. 
 
 holt You Cat see it from the side window. 1 L 00k 
 eee 
 A glare Sina illuminated the room. | 
 
 . whistle of surprise. Frank ran into his room 7 
 yn came out with his cap on. ‘Then there es a 
 
 
 
 
 aoe 
 
 | Harry up! 
 
A RICH FIND 173 
 
 jumped to his feet and hurried out into the large 
 room. 
 
 “It is a fire, sure enough,” he exclaimed, glanc- 
 ing from the window. “It’s that big building 
 where they rent rooms to transients. The whole 
 roof is ablaze and ‘3 
 
 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 run- 
 ning up them. 
 
 One of them threw out one atid, It landed on 
 Pep’s breast, almost pushing him off his footing, 
 and was accompanied by the gruff voice: 
 
 {» 
 
 “ Hey, you get back in there! 
 
 
 
CHAPTER "2x1 
 THE TIN BOX 
 
 PEP was a quick thinker. He could not tell 
 how it was, but the minute his eyes lighted on the 
 two strangers he someliow 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 ihe quartette whé 
 had been the object of the visit of the officer from 
 the city. 
 
 “What do you want?” Pep instantly chal- 
 lenged. 
 
 For answer his assailant leaped torirate and 
 made a grab for him. Pep knew that the intru- 
 sion of these men could have no good motive. 
 He dodged, seized a frying pan from the gas 
 stove, and brandished it vigorously. 
 
 *“‘T'll strike!’ he shouted. ‘ Don’t you try to 
 hold me!”’ 
 
 “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 
 
 174 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ake Ae man who had first appeared. 
 .eep this one quiet, if you have to choke him.” 
 
 there with his knee on his-breast, despite his 
 glings. He managed to oot a gag. Then 
 
 sts together in a vise- like. grip. , 
 he flare from the fire and the bal moon- 
 
 two ho befor bya the city ices 
 5 RS ae ae 
 
and. ee 
 Oba eh?” seen Pep Ss captor, = 
 comrade ayaa ann 
 
 at tik 3 ee ea 
 “ That settles re ‘aoe i : 
 ae two, running down the outside stai 
 ‘a Pep was dazed fora moment. He 
 back half stunned. ‘His head had rec 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 U7 7° 
 
 ot breath. Pep darted down the stairs, his 
 s glancing in every direction. The whole top 
 the building, three hundred feet away, was 
 blazing now. There was a vacant space behind 
 t 1e Wonderland, and across this people were run- 
 ning i in the direction of the fire. Pep could not 
 ake out his friends anywhere about. ‘As his 
 ance swept in the opposite direction he saw two 
 adowy forms headed on a run for the side 
 
 ‘It’s them; I see them!” cried Pep, and he 
 rinted ahead, his eyes fixed upon the scurrying 
 ures, They disappeared between two build- 
 gs. Then they came out | on the street next to 
 he boardwalk. © 
 
 " ie plone ae idea had been to get near 
 
 oe eee men! ie have coed us!” 
 0 ted Peo, putting for the ee where the rae 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ne oe PICTURE 
 
 sons ahd were hastening i in 
 
 fire. di 
 One of eee halted and deed: = Pea 1 
 
 an heed of his announcement, but his 1 fe 
 
 up. S Help! Thieves! Police! 
 . The man in the rear seat had laced he 
 his side. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 their pursuer. Pep dodged his. Berg De 
 aside, but the man got a hold on his 
 pulled him clear over into the machin 
 “Now go. on,” he! ‘directed bi 
 : Pil squelch the young wildcat.” . 
 ae You won tt nevis x 
 : as was ah brutal ‘sque 
 view. from ‘the street an 
 . aa 
 

 
 anc Meccted down : a | winding aa ladies into the 
 sountry. | Bie 
 t # Ne ow you sit still there aa keep your tongue 
 
 Py 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “ Why don’t you cea him out?” demanded 
 the man acting as chauffeur. “We're past the 
 hue and cry now.” ie . 
 “Not from a fellow. with his sharp wits,” 
 
 ted the other. ‘‘ He’d find the first Pieshiae 
 double-quick. He’s made us.a lot of trouble. a 
 ive him a long walk home for his meddling.” 
 They were going at such a furious rate Pep 
 knew that even if they passed anyone his shout 
 ould be incoherent and borne away on the wind. © 
 ed rate they were secure from pursuit except — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 an tis way back home as best he dia A 
 Spi rate resolve came into Pep’s mind, as glanc- 
 Dae He caught the glint of water. At the C 
 
 
 
 oF the bridge, his # hand shot ous 520%, the oa | 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘box in its pillow case covering, . , 
 cushion between himself and his eae. i: 
 
 a the calan waters jue Hae TS. ane o 
 bridge rail. The man beside Pep uttered a sho | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a _ bery linine the cee ees eh 
 \ Pep did not wait to look back to he thal 
 3 sion of the crash. ‘He heard confused. Beat 
 a“ som 
 
 ot ove er i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 side te out a fdvnHoneee | The I li 
 _ from the doorway of a big barn, 
 Ooo) sons, a \inan ‘and’ a boy, vere jus 
 | horse from a light wagon. 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘ Mister!” ried Ben. re lcclte: running up 
 2 the men, “two thieves had wrecked their auto- 
 ~ mob le right at the bridge. They have stolen a 
 focar money and jewelry. They tried to carry 
 e away with them.” 
 
 “Run for my gun, Jabez,” ordered le far- 
 y ier, roused at the sensational announcement. 
 Maybe they’re the fellows who broke in here 
 ast week when we were away at a neighbor’s.” 
 _ The boy ran to the house. He soon reap- 
 ge with a ca double-barreled shotgun 
 
 
 
 hes. Gvidenily the amateur cians had — ; 
 oo made a turn at the see, me 
 
182. PICTURE \CHUMS “4AT SRASIOR Arai 
 
 declared Pep. “ Mister, I want you to help me P| 
 further and I will pay you for it.” | 3 
 “ What doing?’ inquired the man. 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “What!” exclaimed the farmer. 
 
 “ Sounds like a fairy story,” remarked his son 
 skeptically. | 
 
 “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.” 
 “Jabez, go and wake up the two hired men,” 
 directed his father. | 
 “I’m a pretty good swimmer and diver,” said 
 Pep, after the boy had gone on his errand. “Is 
 the water very deep? ” 
 
 “Six or eight. feet.” 
 
 “Then the rake will help me,” said Pep, pro- 
 ceeding 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. JT irst 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. — 4 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 “% 
 
 a cron eats te 
 ‘ _there | | a oe PeOaeold is 
 
 as you and the een oe “you ‘do it ay 
 can charge your own price.” Oe eee es 
 “ina fair,” nodded the farmer. fa 
 2 got une rig in the barn ee and told ie i 
 
 ey: ie drove, Pep holding the rescued box, the mo : 
 i [as “8 ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 ae 
 ing in ies nia, the sight of 
 Kept them: from making | any : 
 
184 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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. a 
 
 “Wait here for a minute,” directed Pep to 
 those in the wagon, dashing up the steps of. the 
 playhouse with his precious box. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 A ae REWARD 
 
 ; i , Pe” said ‘Joly 5 ‘Got ee may a 
 
 
 
186. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 his friends were in ignorance of the burglarious ~ 
 event of the hour, and his own sensational ex- 
 
 periences. He had just been missed and all hands 
 supposed that he was lingering at the scene of the 
 fire. 
 
 “Why, the box, of course,’ almost snapped 
 Pep. 
 
 “ What box?” questioned Randy. 
 
 Pep gave the wetted pillow case a jerk, freeing 
 it of its enclosure, and the little cash box was 
 disclosed. | 
 
 “That box, of course,’ he announced. — 
 “ What’s the matter with you fellows? I guess 
 you've been asleep while people have been steal- 
 ing from you!” | 
 
 Frank advanced to the table, curiosity dawning 
 in his expression as he recognized the box. 
 
 **T don’t quite understand,” he remarked. 
 
 “ 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! ”’ 
 
 “Why, it looks as if our Pep has been up to 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 aio BIG BWR | i ake 
 
 ee a Holly, coming to the table. 
 ve been down in front of the seat of an 
 nobile and half choked to death,” replied 
 £ ep tartly. “lL say; Frank » It was a good thing 
 t rat qT didn’t run off and leave the place unpro- 
 
 vik eh Gintes. 2 il ve 
 ae hae rifled the 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 188 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK © 
 
 the cash box and the treasure it contained, so [ 
 took out the bills and the necklace. Here they | 
 are,” and Frank produced them from an inside 
 pocket of his coat. : 
 “ Then—then )\ Stanmered Sep taken 
 aback. 4 
 “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. ~ 
 “It was a big thing you did, ae declared 
 Randy enthusiastically. a 
 Ben Jolly and Vincent added more approving 
 words, and Pep warmed up to his usual self at id 
 praise of his friends. : 
 “There’s the fellows outside to settle with,” he 
 suggested. i 4 
 ‘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.” mace? 
 “ Didn’t catch a weasel asleep when they came. 
 in here!” chuckled Jolly in Hees Gat We You 
 taught them something this time.” ‘ 
 The farmer was very modest in his charges, 
 “Two dollars covered the damages,’ he re- 
 marked, “and seeing the fire was worth half of 
 that.”’ ' 
 It was getting well on to morning by the time 
 all hands were settled down. Vincent was the 
 
 
 
2s 
 
 A BIG REWARD 189 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 4 ast to go to a He had got a card out of his 
 pocket and said he had some business down town. 
 _ “Tt’s to send a message to the city officer who 
 ook 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 pro- 
 -ceds of the burglary he arrested them for.” 
 
 a *T think you are right,” agreed Frank. 
 
 _ 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. 
  “T tell you, this is genuine office business,” 
 Fesid Frank, as he rested at noon from continuous 
 labors at his desk. 
 
 - “You take to it like a duck to water,” de- 
 -clared Ben Jolly. 
 
 _ “Who wouldn't, with the able corps of assist- 
 ants 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 vision- 
 « ary individual in the traces. Pep and Randy 
 seem to have just the ability to get our new pro- 
 gramme 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.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
190 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 
 
 
 
 “Tt all amounts to having a good machine antl 4 
 starting it right,” insisted Jolly. | 3 
 The boys felt a trifle anxious as it began to 4 
 cloud up about one o'clock. A few drops of rain 7 
 fell. It almost broke Pep’s heart, Randy de- q 
 clared, to see people begin to scatter along the © 
 beach and made their way to shelters, and the 7 
 hotels. | 4 
 “ T’ll try and stem the tide,” observed Vincent ~ 
 smartly, as a bright idea seemed to strike him. © 
 He dived into one of the bedrooms and reap- © 
 peared in his band costume, cornet in hand. 
 “Open the door, Pep,” he directed. “ Never — 
 mind routine this time—what we want to do is — 
 to get the crowd.” 4 
 Vincent posted himself under the shelter of — 
 the canopy that ran over the ticket booth. Soon ~ 
 his instrument was in action. The delightful 7 
 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. | 
 “Twenty minutes to two and the house nearly 
 full,’ reported Pep gleefully, to Jolly at the 
 piano. 
 The shower was over in half an hour, but when ~ 
 the first crowd passed out there was another one” 
 
 — 2 
 
 SS ee 
 
 ie ES ne ae ae 
 ee ES Oa eg Ee gn ee ee Ie opm oe 
 
, 191 
 to take its place About half the seats — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 an bt during the programme as many more 
 
 me in, pee last matinee could not accommo- 
 
 
 
 b] 
 
 3 i explained rigeent. “We didn’t — Hh ay 
 | to. tisk having it around here any longer.” atk 
 ; knew from the\circumstances and yout deni 707m 
 up mn that it is oe of the plunder I am after,” ee 
 
 said ie officer. wie! wish you would meet 
 
 I will have the | i 
 
 
 
192 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 “Five hundred dollars. I think it fair to di- 
 vide it; don’t you?” 
 
 7a ioe that will be very acceptable to our 
 
 93 
 
 one friends here,” assented Vincent, nodding 
 at Pep and Randy. “‘ All the credit for finding 
 the necklace is theirs.’ 
 
 Pep and Randy were considerably fluttered. 
 
 They had their heads together animatedly dis- : 
 
 cussing their good fortune as Vincent accom- 
 panied his visitor to the door. 
 
 “T say, you lucky young fellows,” hailed the : 
 ventriloquist airily, “ what you going to do with — 
 
 all that money?” 
 
 “Oh, Randy and I have settled that,” pro- 
 claimed Pep. | | | 
 G Plave, er , 
 
 “Yes, sir. That two hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars goes into the capital fund of the Wonder- 
 land.” 
 
 | 
 | 
 
 
 
 <_ e oee  aee e e e 5 en 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 _ CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE BROKEN SIGN 
 
 b 
 
 a Se ” said Hen Jolly. casting a weather 
 ene le bee an the living room. 
 
 
 
 We can a: that, i. ne Fei As 
 k wi have been more than fortunate.” ee, 
 ae | ay 80,’ Coe an six sou 
 
 
 
194 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 says they let things go half right, quarrel among | 
 themselves, and a few nights ago Peter Carring- q 
 ton had a crowd’ of his boy friends in a private 4 
 box smoking cigarettes while the films were run- 4 
 ning. Peter doesn’t speak to me now when we © 
 meet.” ; 
 
 “T thought the building was coming down one © 
 
 time last night,” spoke Jolly. “There was dam- © 
 
 age done somewhere, for I heard a terrific crash aq 
 a little after midnight.” | 
 
 “There won’t be many bathers to-day,” said 
 
 Vincent, glancing out at the breakers on the beach. | 
 
 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. . 
 
 “ 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!” ‘¢ 
 
 ‘What is, Pep?” inquired Frank. 
 
 “Look for yourself.” 
 
 “Oh, say! who did that?” shouted Randy. © 
 
 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. if 
 
 
 
“THE BROKEN ‘SIGN. at petal 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 all tat was left of it was “ Wook 
 J—D” and woeful, indeed, the dilapidated sign 
 ooked. Broken bulbs and jagged ends of wires 
 trailed over its face. Two bricks lay at the edge 
 f the walk and the end of a third protruded from 
 he bottom of the sign. 
 Randy was nearly crying. Frank looked 
 etty 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. es 
 “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?” 
 _ There was not one in the group who could 
 t yt have voiced a justifiable suspicion, yet all 
 were silent. 
 “T think I know where that brick came from,” 
 oceeded Pep, trying to keep calm, but really 
 ) Pe over with wrath. “Tm going to find 
 Pep: Aathied not to discuss or explain. The 
 ‘S stared after him as he marched down the 
 tdwalk in his headstrong way. Pep had in 
 ind : a little heap of bricks he had seen two days 
 fore. They were made of terra cotta, red in 
 olor and one ‘side glazed, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 196 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 a 
 
 It was at the National that Pep came to a hal i , 
 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 < 
 plaster board and a few of the bricks that had 
 not been used. The workman on the job had n 
 yet tuckpointed the space he had covered, and had 
 left behind some of his material, a trowel and 
 other utilities. 
 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 
 door of the National opened and three persons 7 | 
 came out. They were Peter Carrington, Greg rs 
 Grayson and Jack Beavers. \ 4 
 “Hello!” flared up Peter, as he caught sight 
 of Pep, “what are you snooping around here | 
 for?” : 
 “T’m running down the persons who smashed 
 our electric sign last night, and I’m fast getting © 
 to them,’ replied Pep. “Carrington, you’ Tey ie 
 pretty bad crowd, all of you, and I’m going to 
 make you some trouble.” | 
 “What for? What about?” blustered Pete 
 and then he flushed up as Pep waved the brick e 
 before him. | 
 “That brick and two others like it smashe dj 
 
 , 2a 
 me 
 wy ls 
 ay 
 ‘.2 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ss THE BROKEN SIGN 197 
 
 our sign,” he declared. ‘There probably isn’t 
 another lot of them in town except here.” 
 “Well, what of it?” demanded Greg Gray- 
 son, sourly. | | 
 “Tm not talking to you,” retorted Pep. . “ We 
 lid 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 
 hey didn’t start out with them from here.- There’s 
 plenty of stones along the beach for the casual 
 nischief 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.” 
 © “Say,” flared up Peter, “ nis is our eee 
 and you get off of it, or 
 “Or you'll what?” eed Pep, throwing down 
 ithe bricks and advancing coaenetly. 
 _ “Easy, Carrington, easy,” broke in Jack Beav- 
 ‘ers 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 
 1ere, ‘I don’t want any trouble with you people,” 
 e went on in an anxious way. “So far as I’m 
 neerned, I give you my word of honor I don’t 
 ow. the first thing about this sign business.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
198 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Pep looked at the speaker’s face and was al 
 most tempted to believe him. 3 
 “You needn’t tell me!” he declared. “ Those! i 
 fellows are a mean lot and they ought to be pa 4 
 ished,”’ x 
 Pep returned to the Wonderland with his tale! 
 Frank tried to quiet him, but Pep’s nie 
 had got the better of him. , 
 “Tf you can make certain that the National — 
 crowd did this damage, we can make them pay a 
 for it,’ said Frank, “but I don’t want to pro- . 
 ceed on guesswork.” — a 
 “Oh, you know as well as I do that they di 
 it, Frank Durham!” sORnie Pep. 
 “T think they did, yes,’ ’ acknowledged an 
 “but if we go to making any charges we can- 
 not prove Mrs. Carrington will hear of it, and 
 don’t care to offend her. Drop it, Pep. Wel 
 have to take our medicine this time. If it gets 
 too flagrant, then we will go to the authorities 
 with it.” P 
 Pep was not fully satisfied, however. He man- 
 aged to see his friend who worked for the Na 
 tional a little later, and tried to enlist his coopera 
 tion in ferreting out the vandals who had dam 
 aged the electric sign. 
 The latter could not be replaced entire withou 
 sending to the city for some of the missing let 
 
THE BROKEN SIGN 199 
 
 ters. 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 at- 
 tracted attention in its new vari-colored dress, 
 showing up as the most conspicuous illumination 
 on the boardwalk. 
 The gusty, showery feather 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 en- 
 - tertainments were curtailed. 
 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 gen- 
 eral 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 dum- 
 mies made up for the lack of numbers. 
 _ “Fine thing!” said more than one. 
 | ~ When the second. show began a good many 
 kako had gone out came back again. A pelting 
 gain had set in, accompanied by a tearing wind. 
 i Randy had to keep the window of the ticket 
 
 
 
200 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 office closed as well as he could, and Pep shut } 
 
 the roof ventilators. 
 
 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 sav- 
 
 ing 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. 
 There were cries and a general commotion. 
 
 Many arose to their feet. The rain began to 
 
 pour in from overhead. 
 At that critical moment Frank closed the pro- 
 jector and shot on the lights. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 THE GREAT STORM 
 
 “ Wer’RE going to have a night of it.” 
 
 Ben Jolly spoke the words with a grim eonvic- 
 tion that had its effect upon his friends, Each 
 could realize for himself that they were face to 
 
 face with an emergency. 
 
 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 satay 
 to the piano stool. 
 
 “There is no danger,’ he shouted—‘“ rae a 
 broken pane of glass of two.” 
 
 Then he had resumed his seat and dashed off 
 és Ms 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 move- 
 ment for the exit and the last film was left un- 
 
 "finished. 
 
 Wier as 201 
 
 
 
 
 
202 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK | 
 
 
 
 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 any 
 one leave the Bee feeling that he had not got 
 his full money’s worth. He summoned Pep to 
 his assistance after giving Randy a quick direc- | é 
 tion. The latter immediately proceeded to tan : 
 the date and the seal of the Wonderland across — 
 some blank cards. Then he came out into the 
 entrance archway with the others. | 
 
 “Here you are!” shouted the lively Peps 
 “Everybody entitled to a free ticket. Good any 
 night this week on account of to-might’s storm. 
 Let no guilty man escape! ” 
 
 “ Ha! ha! very good.” 
 
 ** This is liberal.”’ 
 The crowd was put in rare good humor byl 
 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. Vin- 
 cent mounted it and got at the skylight. | 
 
 It was pretty well broken and the wind threat- 
 
 ’ 
 
 4 
 7 
 ‘ 
 
oo) oman 
 ITE AT eg 
 . a 
 
 on | THE GREAT STORM 203 
 
 ened still further damage. Jolly remembered a 
 large canvas tarpaulin in the celler that had been 
 used by the painters. By the time the front of 
 q the place was cleared of the people he and Vin- 
 cent had the skylight well battened down and 
 
 _ protected. 
 
 “We're going to have a bad night,” he re- 
 ported as he came down the ladder dripping. “A 
 
 view of the beach from that roof to-night would 
 
 make a great moving picture.” 
 ““I hope the storm won’t move us, Mr. Jolly,” 
 
 3 said Frank a trifle uneasily, as a fierce blast shook — 
 
 the building. Bie 
 There was nothing to do but to doubly secure 
 
 all the doors and windows. The roof of the liv- 
 
 ing room proved to be leaky, but the use of pans 
 
 | and kettles to catch the water provided against 
 
 any real discomfort. 
 “T 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 thronge 
 
 we had some work on hand, let me tell you.’ 
 
 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 — 
 
 
 
204. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 began a game of checkers. Vincent was mend- 
 ing one of his speaking dolls. Frank was busy 
 at his desk. They made quite a happy family 
 party, when all chorused the word: 
 
 * Helloh’ 
 
 “Lights out,” observed Jolly, himself the cen- 
 ter of the only illumination in the room, proceed- 
 ing from the gas stove. 
 
 ‘The electric current has gone off, that’s sure,” 
 remarked Vincent. ‘‘ That means trouble some- 
 where.” 
 
 They waited a few minutes, but the electric 
 lights did not come on. 
 
 “Light the gas, Randy suggested Frank. “TI 
 think we had better light one or two jets in the 
 playhouse, too, so we can see our way if any 
 trouble comes along.” 
 
 The playhouse was wired for electric lights, 
 but had a gas connection as well. The jet in the 
 living room was lighted. 
 
 Pep went out and set two jets going in the play- 
 house. They heard him utter a cry of dismay. , 
 Then he hailed briskly: | 
 
 “Come out here. Something’s happened. - 
 
 They all rushed in from the living room. 
 Something had, indeed, happened. Pep stood in 
 half an inch of water, which was flowing 1 in under 
 the front doors. 
 
 
 
THE GREAT STORM 205 
 
 “Why this rain must be a regular deluge!” 
 cried Randy. 
 
 ““Tt’s not rain,” sharply contradicted Pep. 
 
 *« What is it, then? ” 
 
 “Salt water. Hear that—see that!” 
 
 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. 
 
 “Open up, Pep,” directed Frank, “we must 
 see to this right away.” 
 
 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 out- 
 side. 
 
 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. 
 
 The beach clear up to the boardwalk was a 
 seething pools now. Whenever a big swell came 
 in it dashed over the walk and beat against the 
 building lining it. 
 
 99 
 
206 PICTURE CHUMS AT. SEASIDE PARK 
 
 ““See here,” cried Randy in a great state of 
 perturbation, “there isn’t ony ees of the 
 boardwalk going; is there? ” 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “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.” | 
 
 “Tl bet there’s trouble over on the flats,” sug- 
 gested Randy. ‘ See the lights moving around.” 
 
 “Lock the doors, Pep,” spoke Jolly. ‘“ We'll 
 take a look around and see just how bad things 
 are)! 
 
 ‘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. 
 
 They could héar 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 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Bees as ee ee ee noted, ieee 
 ray aaa the boardwalk to a depression fully 
 
 17-27 
 
 : ‘Here the saris water had Cae mia 
 ae The street — 
 5 impassable, aed running two: wave 4% 
 
 . river, ae, cut ae, the National as pas 
 
 A #4 
 
 
 
 
 
 one is in it” tae Frank, ay 
 is yt cried Randy. | st Look, Bese 
 
 a id 
 
 at the side. ‘Some one j is Ae y 
 
 
 
 
 
208 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 The flashes of lightning, indeed showed a for’ 
 lorn figure at the spot Randy indicated. And 
 then Vincent, after staring hard, cut in with the 
 sharp announcement: 
 
 - “Tt’s certainly Jack Beavers!” 
 
 *‘ Hey, you!” yelled Pep, making a speakintal 
 trumpét of his hands and signalling Peter Car- 
 rington’s partner. “Help me fellows,” and Pep 
 sprang upon a platform that had drifted away 
 from its original place in front of some store. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 play- 
 house building. At the same time it blew over 
 the chimney on its top. 
 
 The boys saw the loosened bricks shower down 
 past the clinging form in the window. } 
 
 “He’s hit!” shouted Pep. “He’s gone 
 down!” 
 
 » Jack Beavers fell forward like a clod and dis- 
 appeared under the swirling flood. In an instant 
 the motion picture chums acted on a common 
 impulse and leaped into the water after him. 
 

 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 m te frail raft. 
 sya strewn with Pieces of novus wreckage— 
 
 
 
 The surface of the flood. 
 
 a, This nee paced all o 
 | oe to ee, oD the ie and sod- 
 
210 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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. 
 
 ‘““I suppose I had better stay with him,” ob- ” 
 served 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.” 
 
 “ Yes, he’s. struck hard lines, and it’s a sort of — 
 
 duty to look after him,” said Ben Jolly. 
 He and the boys put in nearly two hours help- 
 
 
 
 
 ing this and that group in’ distress among the — 
 storekeepers of the slump. They got back to — 
 the Wonderland to find that its superior loca- . 
 tion had saved it from damage of any conse- q 
 
 quence. 
 
 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 build- — 
 
 ings, however, had been undermined. } 
 The worst of the storm was over by after- 
 
 ¢ 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 3 ete. | aN big Tense teder ae as 
 d benefit, and five thousand et telling 
 
 
 
 he poor families down on the Bedi ‘) ay 
 do Pepi es “Say, let me run down and tell 
 It will warm | their hearts, just as it does 
 
 “ right,” Aberted pene ras guess you fe | 
 oe that much, ce if 
 
 
 
 
 hae on hig mission of charity. A ‘woth 
 m aie py E had noticed i in the audi- 
 
 
 
 fe a young ‘man Agee Sian b co 
 | your show?” he inquired. Nak ora 
 ae Frank, ee Sig has gone on a 
 
 
 
 
 
212 PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 Frank went inside as Randy appeared with his — ‘ 
 
 cash box. Jolly remained where he was. Finally 
 Pep came into view briskly, happy faced and ex- 
 cited. | | 
 
 “ Some one to see you—that man over there,’ 
 
 advised Jolly. 
 
 “Ts that so? Stranger to me. Want to see 
 
 me?’’ he went on, approaching the stranger. 
 “Tf you are Pepperill Smith. 
 “ That’s my name,” vouchsafed Pep. 
 “The same young man who was the guest of 
 Mr. Tyson at Brenton? ” 
 *‘ Guest!” retorted Pep, in high scorn. “ Oh, 
 
 yes, I was a guest! Fired me the first time he - 
 
 got mad.” 
 * Oh, well, we all have spells of temper we are 
 
 sorry for afterwards,” declared the man 
 
 smoothly. 
 
 “Ts Mr. Tyson sorry?” challenged Pep. 
 
 “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. Ii 
 those papers are lying around loose you might 
 hand them over. to me.” 
 
 “JT haven’t got them,” said Pep, and the man 
 looked disappointed. “ Maybe my friend pre- 
 
 
 
 : Sie ee ere 
 OR OF ee ee ee pe a = = 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 hit concluded his story, and santing keenly 
 oe stranger, ‘ “you seem to have discovered 
 m e value to the stock you peter ¢ tye 
 
 Gi wy, a friend Smith. 
 7 we 
 
 : here Waste a time. All a cane” 
 - insiste the stranger. ey Look here, let me give 
 oe es Wo" hundred dollars.” re 
 
 
 
 * mumbled the stranger oe t 
 i as Prey nf 
 
214. PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK 
 
 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 as more to this than appearson, 
 
 the surface.” 
 
 ‘““Wasn’t that Jack Beavers I just saw you talk- 
 ing to?” inquired Hal Vincent of Frank, as the 
 latter approached him on the boardwalk. 
 
 “Yes, poor fellow,” replied Frank. “I have 
 been having quite a conversation with him.” 
 
 _“ Making a poor mouth about his misfortunes, 
 I suppose?” intimated the ventriloquist. 
 
 “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 GeO. and he is trying to get on his feet 
 again.” 
 
 “In what way?” 
 
 “Some friend has happened along and is will- 
 ing 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.” 
 
 
 
BS 
 
 \ CONCLUSION 215 
 
 “What did you tell him, Durham?” 
 
 “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.” 
 
 “Durham,” spoke the ventriloquist with con- 
 siderable feeling, ‘ you’re pure gold!” 
 
 The bustling pianist appeared on the scene all 
 smiles and serenity at that moment. 
 
 “Where’s Pep Smith?” he pullin 
 
 “Up at the playhouse.” 
 
 “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.” 
 
 Ben Jolly held a certified check before the daz- 
 zled eyes of his friends. It read: “ Pay to the 
 order of Peperill Smith Two Thousand Dollars.” 
 
 “This good fortune will about turn Pep’s 
 head,’ declared Frank Durham. 
 
 “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 with- 
 out a majority of the stock. Pep’s holdings fit in 
 snugly, so they had to pay me my price.” 
 
216 (PICTURE CRUMS AT SEASWE Fis 
 
 Pep Smith gasped as Jolly recounted all this 
 over again to him in the living room back of the 
 photo playhouse. ie 
 
 “What are you going to do with all that ae 
 money, Pep?” inquired Randy. 
 
 Pep waved the precious bit of paper gaily and 
 jumped to his feet with glowing eyes. 
 
 “What am I going to do with it?” he cried. 
 “And what could [ do but put it into the Wonder- 
 land 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?” 
 
 “That's sure,’ agreed Ben Jolly. “You boys 
 have made a success of the motion picture busi- 
 ness so far and I want to see you keep it up.” 
 
 And so, with both playhouses in the full tide 
 of prosperity, we bid good-by to our ambitious 
 young friends, to meet again in another story to 
 be called: “The Movie Boys on Broadway”; or 
 “The Mystery of the Missing Cash Box.” 
 
 ‘“My, but we have been lucky!” declared Randy. 
 
 “That’s what,” added Pep. 
 
 “Well, we’ve had to work for our wars) came 
 from Frank. 
 
 THE END 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘he ive Fearless Series 
 By ROY ROCK WOOD 
 
 
 
 
 
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 or The Rival Photo Houses of the Boardwalk. 
 
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 THE MOVIE BOYS’ NEW IDEA, 
 or Getting the Best of Their Enemies. 
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