"I have not had the honor of meeting you before, Mr. Booth," he said.

"In the line, I suppose?" insinuated Booth.

"If you mean of theatricals-hardly," replied Frank. "I have done a little in the motion picture field."

"Ah!" exclaimed Booth, with great animation, striking a pose-"there, indeed, is a field. Young man; I proclaim a wonderful future for the photo playhouse. Let me see, where are you located now-and the name, I didn't quite catch the name?"

"I 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 soothing waves, dancing breezes, vast throngs, stupendous profits. Only one thing lacking-an able press agent. Sir," and Booth raised himself to his loftiest height, "I papered Baltimore till the house was jammed. The United Thespians-sir, a moment, aside. Mr. Vincent will pardon us. Could you antic.i.p.ate--"

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 pencil and memorandum book. Very carefully and laboriously he began to write:

"Durham, Seaside Park. I. O. U. one dollar. Mem: suggest plan for publicity campaign."

"You've put your foot in it this time, Durham," exclaimed Vincent almost wrathfully, as with a great flourish Booth went on his way.

"Oh, pshaw!" laughed Frank, "the poor fellow 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 appearance personally with one of his wild publicity schemes direct at Seaside Park. Oh, you can laugh, but once he sets out on your trail, and you encourage him, you'll find it no easy matter to shake him off," a prediction by the way that Frank and his chums had reason to recall a little later.

Frank was in fine spirits when he reached Seaside Park. Everything had gone famously with him in the city. He had been introduced to a man who operated a string of summer resort motion picture shows, and he had gleaned an immense amount of information. The man had reduced his special line to a science and had made money at it, and Frank was greatly encouraged.

It was late in the afternoon when he started from the depot for the new quarters. He was pleased and satisfied as his eye ran over the front of the old store. Various touches of paint had made the entrance attractive, the broad windows bore each a fine plain sign, and a very ornamental ticket booth was in place. Frank found the front doors partially open, and pa.s.sed 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 ap.r.o.n and just getting supper ready, waved a saucepan over his head in jubilant welcome.

"I say, you people have been doing some work here since I left," cried Frank, as he shook hands with Randy. "Why, where is Pep?"

"There's a story to that," explained Randy. "He's safe and sound, but may not be here till to-morrow or the next day."

"Gone home to see his folks?" hazarded Frank.

"No, not that," dissented Randy. "Tell you, Frank, it's quite a long story. Suppose we get the meal on the table, and seated comfortably, and we'll all have a lot to tell; eh?"

"Just the thing," voted Jolly with his usual enthusiasm. "I've got a famous rice pudding on the bill of fare, Durham, and I'll guarantee you'll enjoy a good home meal once more."

"That's just what I will," agreed Frank.

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. "How's the New York end of the proposition?"

"Famous," reported Frank heartily. "I've made some fortunate discoveries and investments-pa.s.s the potatoes; will you, Randy?"

"Hold on!" cried a familiar voice-"I'm on the programme for some of that, too!"

CHAPTER XI-CROSSED WIRES

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Pep!" exclaimed Frank in joyful surprise, jumping up from the table and greeting the missing chum with a hearty handshake.

"Hold on-go a little easy on that hand," spoke the unexpected guest.

"It's the one I hurt in that automobile accident, you know, and not quite as strong as it used to be."

"What automobile accident?" inquired Frank in surprise.

"Oh, that's so," broke in Randy quickly-"Frank has just got back from the city and hasn't heard of it yet. We didn't expect you so soon. You wrote us yesterday you wouldn't leave Brenton until Sat.u.r.day."

"Humph! Had to," said Pep with a wry grimace.

"How is that?"

"Fired," explained Pep tersely, and looking as if he had not enjoyed the experience one bit. "Say, don't bother me now about it. I'm hungry as a bear, and had to walk eight miles to get here before dark, and I'll feel better natured when I've had something to eat and a little rest."

Ben Jolly arched his eyebrows in an inquiring way and Randy looked Pep over sharply. Jolly had just returned from Fairlands that morning, and Randy had heard from Pep by mail only twice during his sojourn at the Tyson home at Brenton. From all he had learned and seen during his brief visit there, Randy had been led to believe that Pep would return with waving colors. He would not only be mended up, as Randy had reason to figure it out, but would have a comfortable sum of money representing lost time.

Pep, however, did not look like a favorite of fortune. He used both hands with equal celerity in dispatching the meal, and his injured wrist seemed to give him no inconvenience or pain. His face was glum, however, and when he spoke of being "fired" Randy knew that something was up.

"Tell us about this accident of yours, Pep," urged Frank as all hands got over the first promptings of appet.i.te.

"Randy will," snapped Pep.

Randy was agreeable to the suggestion. He was glad to descend on the heroism of his chum, and dwelt somewhat upon the bravery of Pep in risking his life for the little child in the baby carriage. Randy led the course of the narrative to his visit to Brenton, the peculiar situation in which he found Pep, and detailed the contents of the two letters he had received from their absent partner.

"Well, Pep," hailed Frank heartily, at the end of the story. "I suppose you've turned out an adopted son or great favorite with this Mr. Tyson."

Pep had just finished a second helping of Jolly's famous rice pudding and was ready to talk now.

"Oh, yes, I have! See me!" he retorted in a scornful and disgusted way.

"Say, the next fellow who plays me for an invalid will be a good one, I tell you. It's all right up to where Randy left me in the arms of luxury at the Tyson residence. Yes, it was all right for two days after that.

Then I got into my usual trim-restless. Of course I couldn't work with my bad arm, but it didn't bother me a bit. I told Mr. Tyson so. He spoke to that old fogy surgeon of his and after a regular battle we came to terms."

"What terms, Pep?" inquired Frank.

"I wanted something to do. I was dead sick of hanging around doing nothing. It seems that Mr. Tyson runs a broker's office in Brenton. It's a branch of a big Wall Street concern in New York City. They do some business, too, and he hires a lot of clerks. Well, the surgeon said that as long as I didn't use my bad arm it was all right, so old Tyson takes me down to the office. First day he put me at the information desk. Then the boy who held that position regularly came back and he set me at one of the telephones."

"What doing, Pep?" inquired Jolly.

"Taking quotations and orders on the long distance. The 'phone was arranged on a standard and I didn't have to handle it at all. I had a pad of paper at my side. All I had to do was to write out the quotations, or orders. Then I would touch an electric bell and a boy would take them to the manager."

"Sort of stock exchange business; eh?" propounded Jolly.