EXCELSOR!--CONCLUSION
“It’s great news!” declared Mr. Strapp.
“Grand--wonderful!” added Professor Barrington. “That Pep Smith of
yours is a genius. As to this Vic Belton, he deserves his good fortune
in every way.”
The “great news” was the arrival of a letter from Pep, reciting his own
and the adventure of Vic in their search for the stolen camels. Farmer
Bacon had soon straightened out matters. The leader of the movies
bandits was in jail for stealing, his accomplices had fled, and the
camp on the swamp island was broken up and deserted.
The two young heroes, as the admiring Ben Jolly insisted on dubbing
them, had the camels in safe and comfortable charge and would be in
Boston and back at the Standard the next day.
“Yes,” said Frank, brightly, “things are coming out finely all along
the line. We should be very happy and hopeful, Professor, over the
wonderful success of your educational films.”
“There’s no doubt of that,” acknowledged the old savant gratefully,
but he added with a sigh: “if we only hadn’t lost the great film!”
“Forget it!” instantly advised Mr. Strapp, in his brusque, practical
way. “It’s gone, and we haven’t any time to spare crying over spilled
milk. That Slavin crowd got it. There is no doubt of that, according to
my way of thinking.”
“It hasn’t brought them much luck,” submitted Ben Jolly. “Randy here
says they’ve not had the money to go on smoothly. They have almost
dropped the educational line, working in two ‘funnies’ for part of
their programme. Just as you said at the start, too, Durham, their
location is wrong. It’s just far enough off the lively belt to lose the
transients.”
“I think we had better give up any idea of ever getting trace of the
stolen film,” said Frank. “It is my opinion that it has been destroyed,
just to block us. If Slavin hasn’t, he can’t dispose of it in this
country without implicating himself as a thief. He knows, too, that as
soon as it is used we can stop it and get it back. Going to the hotel,
Randy?”
“No, I’ve got something to attend to.”
“Pretty late in the evening for business; isn’t it?” questioned Frank,
curiously.
“That’s all right,” answered Randy, very seriously. “I’ve been watching
the New Idea and I’m going to keep it up until I find out something.”
“You mean about the stolen film? Don’t waste the time, Randy,” advised
Frank. “As to how their show is progressing, we don’t care a snap of a
finger. They are pretty nearly at the end of their rope. Did you know
that Trudelle, the partner of Slavin, met Mr. Strapp on the street
yesterday and hinted at selling out to him if he would pay a liberal
bonus on the lease?”
“I didn’t,” replied Randy, “but I do know that Slavin and Trudelle are
quarrelling with one another most of the time. I’ve got a friend in one
of their ushers--and he’s keeping me posted.”
It was to meet this friend in question that Randy now proceeded to
the neighborhood of the New Idea, instead of going with the others to
their hotel. Randy could not get the great film out of his mind, and an
incident had occurred a night previous that had started him on a plan
for getting as close to the affairs of Slavin as was possible. His idea
in doing this was the hope that he might find out what had become of
the great film.
Randy had been passing the New Idea late at night. The place had been
shut up for over an hour, but one of the entrance doors was open and a
young fellow about his own age sat outside--on a stool. He was crying
and Randy went up to him.
Sympathy and help was what the lad wanted, Randy soon found out. He was
an usher and handy boy about the place, slept behind the stage nights,
and he said had not been paid his wages for a week. He had asked for
some money to send to a sick mother after the show that night. Slavin,
in an ugly mood, had refused to give him even the two dollars he so
badly needed and had kicked him over on a chair, badly bruising his arm.
“And Slavin and his partner take what money comes in and go off every
night with it, playing cards and wasting it,” complained the little
fellow, bitterly.
“Will they be back again to-night?” asked Randy.
Yes, the boy said they usually returned a little after midnight and sat
up quarrelling usually. Randy fancied he saw his chance. He told the
boy he would let him have the two dollars and would see that he got a
better job, if he would let him share the little den he occupied back
of the stage.
Randy did not entirely explain to the lad what he was after when he
made his second visit, after leaving his friends at the Standard. The
boy, however, had little love for his swindling employers and did not
much care. It was thus that, an hour later, Randy found himself just
where he wanted to be--in a room adjoining the office of the New Idea.
About one o’clock Slavin and Trudelle came into the office apartment.
The latter acted reckless and as if he was under the influence of
drink. Slavin began to upbraid him for gambling away some money he had
taken from the box office.
“Huh! what you got to kick about?” growled Trudelle. “You’ve got that
big film. You say it’s a fortune. Why don’t you turn it into cash?”
“Yes, I’ve got it and I intend to keep it,” retorted Slavin. “I’ll tell
you one thing: If you don’t straighten up I’ll quit and get to a place
where I can find my price for that little piece of property.”
“It’s half mine. Aren’t we partners?” demanded Trudelle. There was some
fierce bickering, he shook his fist in his partner’s face and Slavin
picked up a chair and knocked him flat.
All this Randy saw and overheard, crouched close to the partition which
had several cracks in it. He noticed Slavin glance viciously and then
uneasily at the senseless man on the floor. Then he went over to the
desk, opened it, and began hurriedly to ransack its drawers, selecting
several papers and stowing them in his pocket. Suddenly Slavin, as if
seized with some urgent idea, shouted out:
“Jim--hey, you boy Jim, come in here.”
“Go ahead,” whispered Randy. “See what he wants.”
The boy Jim entered the office room and Slavin took a key out of his
pocket.
“See here,” he said, “if you want your back pay and something more, all
in cash, take that key and go to the place where I room. You know where
it is?”
“I’ve been there a dozen times--yes, sir,” answered Jim.
“Well, you get quietly to my room. There’s a broken trunk under the
bed. In the bottom is a package done up in a pasteboard box. You can’t
miss it. Fetch it here and I’ll pay you as I say.”
“Let me go instead of you,” whispered Randy, breathlessly, as Jim
returned to his room. “Go to my hotel,” and he told the lad where
it was. “Wait for me there and I’ll give you double what that man
promised.”
“You will?” challenged Jim, earnestly.
“Yes, and a position at the Standard in the bargain. Slavin is
arranging to run away, I can see that.”
The boy Jim agreed willingly. Randy’s pulses beat high as he left the
New Idea by the rear. Jim, accompanying him as far as the hotel, told
him in detail of the location of Slavin’s room.
“If it’s only the great film that Slavin has sent for!” cogitated
Randy, as he hurried on his way. “It looks so. He’s going to throw up
his hands here and maybe make for Europe, where he could dispose of it
easily.”
Twenty minutes later, as Randy reached the room indicated and lifted
the box Slavin had told about from under the bed, he made investigation
enough to be sure that he had found what he had hoped to find. It was
the great film.
Frank was still up reading, Mr. Strapp and Professor Barrington were
going over some business papers. All hands looked up in startled
wonderment as their young friend fairly burst into the room.
“Oh, Frank!” almost shouted the breathless Randy--“I’ve got it!”
“Got what?” inquired the professor, lifting his astonished eyes to the
excited lad.
“The great film--and there it is!” and Randy placed the parcel before
him. A satisfied smile passed over the face of Mr. Hank Strapp of
Montana. He grasped the hand of his young partner in a grip that made
Randy wince.
“Great, boy!” was all he said. “I’d be proud to be your father!”
* * * * *
It was a gala night at the Standard. The decks had been cleared for
action; the occasion heralded all over the city. The great film was to
be produced.
All the motion picture chums were present. Pep and Vic had returned
from their adventurous quest of the camels, more in love with the
beautiful playhouse than ever. The sale of the camels was under
negotiation and it looked as though Vic Belton in a few days would have
a tidy sum to share with his faithful old friend, Bill Purvis.
The New Idea was completely off the books. There was no doubt that
Slavin had planned to flee to Europe with the stolen film. He had
disappeared, and his partner closed up the playhouse with a broken head
and an empty pocket.
Mr. Randall was in the audience and the boy Jim was an usher. The
handsome reception entrance was crowded with waiting throngs, for the
“full house” signs had been put up half an hour previous.
Then as the curtain went up, for the first time in the history of
motion photography the wonders of the polar world were exhibited to
the world. Mr. Randall was something more than a mere photographer. He
had infused his scenes with rare human interest, every one of them.
“A New World” was a faithful reproduction of all that appertained to
the far away, almost unattainable Arctic circle. The film was four
thousand feet in length, divided into that number of sections, and a
story and a romance were deftly woven into it.
A spellbound audience saw something new, indeed--pictures of a land and
people that they had only heard of or read about in books.
There was shown the building of a snow house, the capture and skinning
of the bearded seal, the hunting of the caribou and ptarmigan, the skin
boats of the natives, the most northerly white man’s dwelling on the
continent. There were the dog teams of the Esquimaux, the famous mud
volcano on Lagton Bay, the wreck of a great whaler, cooking with oil
for fuel, heather and dwarf willows, and a scene showing polar bears
swimming in the sea.
The last film seemed to revivify some grand transformation scene. It
was here that the art of the expert Randall shone at its full zenith.
There burst upon the view of the enchanted audience the glories of the
aurora borealis.
There was one unified breath of delight as the last reel ran off. A
flutter of the most grateful appreciation swayed the great audience,
and the motion picture chums realized that the future of the Standard
photo playhouse was assured.
“We’ve got to celebrate,” voiced bluff, hearty Mr. Hank Strapp, as the
last light went out in the beautiful playhouse. “Entertaining the world
in the right way is a big thing. Educating ’em at the same time is a
bigger thing. My friends,” and he gazed devotedly at the bright faces
of his young business associates, “it was a lucky day when Mr. Hank
Strapp of Montana met you--yes, sir!”
“You have made my last days my best days,” said the old professor, with
a tender touch of feeling.
“Why,” cried the impetuous Pep, “this is only a beginning in the
educational film field.”
“Yes, we must keep our eyes open for still other conquests,” declared
Frank Durham in his cheery, confident way.
And so we leave the motion picture chums, who had scored their last
and greatest triumph through diligence, pluck and loyalty--each to the
other, and all to their many friends.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.