A GRAND SUCCESS
“What have you decided, Frank?” asked Pep.
“I think our duty to Vic is to do what we can for him,” was the prompt
reply of the whole-souled leader of the motion picture chums.
“Yes, he is a good-hearted fellow,” declared Pep, warmly, “and he is
worrying more than you think about those camels of his.”
“I can see that. I can see also,” added Frank with a quizzical
expression of face, “that you are about as anxious as he is to play
detective and get on the track of the animals.”
“I’ll do better than that man you sent out to find the camels, I’ll
bet,” vaunted Pep. “Why, he just wasted time. Then when you gave him
the tip about Brinton, he either missed his cue or botched it and
scared away the game. No, sir--you give Vic and me a chance and we’ll
find out where the camels are hidden unless the animals have been
spirited away to some distant place.”
“It’s a bad time to spare you, Pep,” said Frank, in a business-like way.
“I know that,” responded Pep. “The last two days have shown what people
think of the Standard. Wasn’t it just grand last night?”
“See you in a minute, Pep,” interrupted Frank, as Mr. Strapp called to
him from the office, and he left Pep to think over how grand, indeed,
had been the progress of the Standard since opening up regularly.
The week had started in with a programme of only two daily
entertainments--a matinee from two to four and an evening bill from
eight to ten. This was to continue for that week to try out the plan.
The programme was quite a long one, but this very fact induced the
class of people the Standard was reaching for to come from a distance
to an entertainment lasting two hours.
There had been almost a scramble for seats the day before. The
Standard, roomy as it was, had its auditorium packed at both afternoon
and evening entertainments. The night before, Pep, as he now sat
recalling it, fancied he would never forget.
The feature of the evening was the most beautiful floral film he had
ever seen. It was labelled “The Century Plant.” Professor Barrington
had held high hopes as to the attractive qualities of this unusual film
and had not been disappointed.
It appeared that a convention of horticulturists from all over the
East was being held in Boston. The professor knew its officers. His
suggestions and influence had resulted in a viva voce resolution on the
part of the convention to go and see the famous film in a body.
By eight o’clock nearly three hundred of the delegates and their wives
filled one entire section of the big auditorium. Then there filed in
over one hundred students from Harvard University and Wellesley College.
“You could fairly smell the perfume!” declared Mr. Strapp.
It was no wonder, therefore, that Pep reflected that he was missing
a great thing in leaving Boston on the proposed mission. He was,
however, loyal to Vic. They had become great friends, and to Pep more
particularly Vic betrayed his deep anxiety to learn the fate of the
stolen “ships of the desert.”
The day after Pep’s stirring adventures at the New Idea he and Vic
had related their details to Frank. The latter was fully convinced
that Pep had made an important discovery. Frank at once telegraphed to
the special agent who was trying to find the stolen animals to go to
Brinton and see what he could find out. As a matter of fact the man had
discovered nothing and Frank had called him in and paid him off.
Frank handed Pep a roll of bank notes as he returned from the office of
the playhouse.
“Mr. Strapp thinks you and Vic had better try your luck on this
proposition,” he advised his eager chum. “Don’t let money stand in the
way of accomplishing something.”
“Oh, we’re going to find those camels,” declared the optimistic Pep.
“I’d better go to the hotel and get Vic and start for Brinton on the
first evening train.”
“All right,” nodded Frank. “I’ll go with you as far as the hotel.”
“Say, Frank,” remarked Pep, as they left the Standard, “I hope we’re
not going to miss ‘the great film.’”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be ready until next week. That reminds me,
too: I must send Randy with a message right away to Mr. Randall. He
hasn’t been feeling very well for a day or two. I don’t want to have
him think we are neglecting him, but we have been so busy yesterday and
to-day that neither Professor Barrington nor myself could find time to
visit him.”
Mr. Randall was the man who had been sent out on the big film
expedition. Pep and Randy had seen him only once, and he had impressed
them greatly. He had received a joyous greeting from the professor
when he arrived, and had at once been placed in possession of a little
studio about a mile from the playhouse. The location was retired and
pains had been taken to keep it secret.
Mr. Randall had come back from his wonderful expedition a good deal of
a wreck. One ear had been bitten off by some beast of prey, the other
had been frozen and a part of it was missing.
The scarred and battered adventurer was now working on the development
of the negatives of the great film and had been given a full studio
equipment to perfect this.
Meantime, the Standard had whetted public curiosity and interest by
putting out in the daily prints little hints as to the coming great
film. They had also announced this grand feature on the screen at the
Standard.
“I suppose Slavin and his crowd are just worrying themselves to death
guessing what the great film really is,” Randy had remarked.
Frank had decided it the best policy to leave the New Idea crowd
entirely alone. He did not even strive to find out how they were
succeeding with their new enterprise. The bustling Pep, however, was
an inquisitive news gatherer. He had reported only the evening before.
“Slavin had no crowd at all the second night.”
“And the third?” Randy had asked.
“There wasn’t any third night,” explained Pep with a grin. “They had
some trouble with the people who furnished their electric light outfit,
I heard. Anyway, they weren’t allowed to open till they settled the
bill. Last night they ran a second camel film, but there weren’t many
there to see it.”
When they got to the hotel it took Pep and Vic only a few minutes to
make up a package of necessaries for what they believed would be a
brief trip. Frank had written a hurried note while they were packing up.
“Here, Randy,” he said, “I would like to have you take a message to Mr.
Randall and see how he is getting along. You know where his studio is?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Randy, “I’ve been there once already, you know.
Why, it’s on the way to your depot, fellows,” he added to Pep and Vic.
“We’ll take the walk together; eh?”
“Nothing better,” chirped the lively Pep, and the little coterie bade
Frank good-bye and started on their way.
Pep kept up his usual brisk chattering the mile or less they had to
cover. When they came to a point where the street leading to Randy’s
destination diverged they parted.
“Come on,” directed Pep, as Randy turned away with an expressed hope
that they would have all kinds of good luck in their mission. Pep had
found Vic staring back of him and caught his arm urging him along.
“What’s the matter?” he added.
“I was just looking,” replied Vic, rather strangely.
“Looking for what?” asked Pep.
“Well, I fancied I saw two fellows who looked a good deal like some men
we saw at the New Idea the other night dodge into a doorway back of us.
They’ve disappeared, though. Say, do you suppose they were following
us?”
“If they were,” replied Pep, “I’ll fool them. Quick, now!” as they
turned a sharp corner.
Out of view of any possible pursuers, Pep made a dive through a narrow
space between two buildings and Vic followed him. In three minutes’
time they had reached the next street.