ALL READY!
The man in advance happened to cross a wet streak on the walk just as
Frank and his friends observed him. This was caused by the overflow of
a combination drinking fountain and horse trough. The man slipped and
went flat. In another minute, as he struggled to his feet, his pursuer
pounced upon him.
“Why, look! Look!” ejaculated Pep.
“It’s Hal!” echoed Ben Jolly.
Frank and Randy recognized their friend the ventriloquist
simultaneously. The former was a good deal surprised, for he had bade
Vincent good-bye in New York City within the past forty-eight hours. He
wondered what had brought Vincent to Seaside Park; and more than ever,
what his participation in the present incident might mean.
“I’ve got you; have I?” stormed Vincent, making a grab at the fugitive
and seizing him by the arm. Then he whirled him around and transferred
his clutch to the throat of the man. “Now, then, you pull off that
coat in a jiffy, or I’ll fling you out into the street.”
“Yes, yes, certainly--ssh! don’t raise a row. Likely to be known here.
Going into business--hurt my reputation.”
“Your reputation, you miserable rat!” shouted Vincent, greatly excited.
“You’ve led me a fine chase; haven’t you, after all I did for you! I
made up my mind, though, I’d find you and get back my property, if I
had to chase you half over the country.”
“Return coat in private--secluded spot.”
“Take it off now!”
“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
fugitive by the shoulders, ran him straight up to the watering trough.
Splash! splash! splash! “Ooo--oof! Leggo! Murder!”--a wild riot of
sounds made the welkin ring. A fast-gathering mob bustled nearer.
Dripping, hatless, coatless, the helpless fugitive was given a shove
down the sidewalk by Vincent, who turned and confronted a police
officer.
“Hi, there!” challenged the latter sternly--“what’s the trouble here?”
“No trouble at all,” retorted Vincent. “I’ve saved you that. That
fellow slinking out of sight between those two buildings stole my coat
and I’ve got it back--that’s all.”
“A thief; eh?”
“Oh, he’s out of sight and I’m satisfied,” advised Vincent. “I gave him
free lodging and feed in the city and he paid me back by robbing me.
We’re square now and no need of your services, thank you. By the way,
though, you might glimpse him so as to be able to keep track of him.
He’s a slippery customer to have in a town where there’s even door mats
or lawn mowers lying around loose.”
Frank had picked up the coat from the pavement where Vincent had flung
it and he now offered it to him.
“That you, Durham?” hailed the ventriloquist, mopping his perspiring
brow--“and the rest of the crowd? Howdy--I declare, I was ruffled. I
can stand anything but ingratitude.”
“Who is the fellow, anyway?” inquired Jolly.
“Oh, he’s been a hanger-on at the movies and a sponge and dead beat for
a long time. His name is Jack Beavers.”
“What’s that?” cried Pep, sharply. “Why, that’s the name of the ‘big
New York man’ who is going to start the new show with Peter Carrington
and his crowd.”
“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 the information had been
accorded. “I’ll follow this up and put that fellow out of business.”
“I wouldn’t trouble, Mr. Vincent,” said Frank. “We don’t want to give
Carrington and his friends any excuse for claiming we are persecuting
them. If this man is the kind of fellow you describe, he will soon run
himself out.”
“And them, too,” declared Jolly.
“Birds of a feather--all of them,” commented Pep.
Vincent explained that he was due to return at once to the city. He
expected to have his claim against the company that had stranded him
and owed him money come up in court at any time, and wanted to be on
hand to present his evidence. The boys, however, prevailed upon him to
accompany them home and have at least one good, old-fashioned meal with
them. Then they all went with him to his train.
“Hope to see you soon again, Hal,” remarked Ben Jolly, as they shook
hands good-bye.
“You will, Jolly--it’s fate,” declared Vincent. “I’m running up against
your crowd all the time, and I guess it’s on the books. Bow-wow-wow!”
and he winked at Pep, always alive for mischief.
“Meow!--p’st! pst!”--and a kitten in the arms of a fussy old man just
getting aboard of a coach arched its back at the well-counterfeited
imitation of the ventriloquist, while its mistress ran up the steps in
a violent flurry.
“Let me out--let me out!” came next, apparently from a big sample case
a colored porter was carrying for a traveling salesman. Down came the
case with a slam and the porter stood regarding it with distended eyes
and quivering face.
“Lawsy sakes, boss!” he gurgled--“what you done got in dere?” and very
gingerly and rapidly he carried the case into the coach when prevailed
upon to do so by its somewhat startled owner.
Then with a smile the versatile Vincent jumped aboard of the train,
waving his hand cheerily in adieu to his smiling friends.
“A jolly good fellow, that,” commented Frank, as the train pulled out.
“I only hope we will be able to afford to engage his talents for the
new Wonderland.”
“You’ve just got to,” vociferated Pep. “He’s a regular drawing card and
a show all in himself.”
And now came the real work of the motion picture chums. The new photo
playhouse was all ready for the outfit, and when that was brought from
the freight house there was plenty of lifting, carrying and placing
to attend to. The big electric sign had to be reset and adjusted, the
sheet iron booth for the machine put in place, and for four days there
were a multitude of little things to accomplish.
Jolly got track of a closed show at Brenton where the chairs were for
sale and drove an excellent bargain in their purchase, and also in the
delivery.
It was Thursday night when for the first time the electric lights were
turned on, so the boys could see how the playhouse “showed up,” as they
expressed it. They all went out in front, Jolly turning the switches
from inside. To the excited vision of the enthusiastic Pep the result
was a burst of glory. The sign came out boldly. The many windows of the
building, standing alone by itself as it did, made Randy think of a
palace.
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 street,” declared a
breathless urchin, coming up on a run.
“Yes, it was so bright I thought it was a fire,” echoed a companion.
It was arranged that the three chums should visit their home town next
morning. Jolly was left in charge of the playhouse and told them to
have a good time and throw all care from their minds, as he would be
able to complete all the arrangements for the opening Monday night.
The boys had a splendid time at Fairlands. They were highly elated over
their business progress in the new venture and infused their families
and friends with their own enthusiasm and delight. The Fairlands weekly
paper printed a nice article about “Three Rising Young Business Men of
Our Town,” and altogether as they took the train to return to Seaside
Park each one of the trio felt that life was worth living and honorable
business success a boon well worth striving for.
“And now for the grandest event of our life,” announced Pep,
buoyantly--“the Opening Night!”