"Anything odd always catches me, so I interviewed the old man. It seemed that he had received 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.

"It looks so, judging from your sales of the last half-hour," remarked Frank.

"What do you get for the little houses, Mr. Jolly?" inquired Randy.

"A dollar apiece. I don't sell them, though-not a bit of it," exclaimed Ben Jolly, modestly. "It's Hal. You ought to hear his whole repertoire-orioles, thrushes, mourning doves, nightingales, mocking birds. He infuses the neighborhood with the melody and I slide in with the practical goods. And that rig-remember the noise wagon at Fairlands, Pep Smith?"

"Do I?" cried Pep, in a gloating way-"I should say I did!"

The "noise wagon" had been introduced in connection with the photo playhouse at Fairlands and had become a novel inst.i.tution with the inhabitants. A wagon enclosed with canvas, bearing announcements of existing and coming film features, was provided with a big ba.s.s 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 on the same basis here,"

proceeded Jolly. "If not, I can get more for the outfit than I paid for it, anyway. Now then, Durham, where can we find you this evening?"

"Why not sooner?" suggested the impetuous Pep. "We've a great lot to tell you, Mr. Jolly."

"And I'm anxious to hear it all," declared 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 promising-like."

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 advantage to them in the future in case they located at Seaside Park.

Vincent had the reputation of being an accomplished 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 compensation.

Ben Jolly burst in upon his young friends with his usual bustle and buoyancy about six o'clock that evening. He merrily c.h.i.n.ked 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 houses-and, see here, Frank," and the volatile speaker exhibited a comfortable-looking roll of bank notes. "That was a fine speculation, the way it turned out, and leaves me quite 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.

"I'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 pottage. I'm willing to pitch in and live 'most any way to give the new show a start, but when it 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 almost crying. Ben Jolly sat chewing a toothpick vigorously, his thinking cap on.

"Perhaps we had better give up the idea of coming to Seaside Park until we are a little stronger in a money way--" Frank had begun, when there was an interruption.

"Someone to see Mr. Frank Durham," announced a bellboy, appearing in the open doorway.

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.

CHAPTER VI-A FRIEND IN NEED

Frank Durham entered the ladies' parlor of the 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 boat the afternoon before.

"This is Mr. Durham," spoke Miss Porter, and she smiled in a friendly way at our hero, while her companion extended her bejeweled hand with a decided show of welcome.

"I was so overcome by that explosion," said Mrs. Carrington, "that I just got a glimpse of you. Then that ridiculous fainting away! I have thanked Miss Porter a dozen times for having had the foresight to obtain your name and that of your brave young comrades. Now then, Mr. Durham, if you please, sit down and give an account of yourself."

"In what way, madam?" asked Frank, with an embarra.s.sed smile, and flushing at the compliment conveyed.

"Why have you not accepted our invitation to come up to the house, as I requested?" demanded 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 Seaside Park. Then, too, some friends arrived this afternoon."

"I am used to being obeyed, young man," Mrs. Carrington, with a playful frown. "I have no doubt, though, that I sent a blundering messenger. 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 application and work. I would not do you the injustice 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 correspondence with a military school, with the idea of getting him where a year's discipline may do him some good."

Frank had not for a moment seriously entertained the thought of taking Peter Carrington into partnership. He felt immensely relieved, however, to find that his visitor did not press that phase of the subject.

"I have come, first and foremost," went on the fussy but good-natured lady, "to thank you for what you did for us. When I think of how near we were to drowning or burning up it makes me shudder! My friends, who happened to see your picture in this morning's paper--"

"My picture?" exclaimed Frank, in bewilderment. "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 account of your bravery in the _Brenton Daily News_."

Brenton was the nearest city, about twenty miles from Seaside Park.

Frank began to get a faint glimmering of the situation now. The reporter who had snap-shotted him with his camera from the pier must have sent his story to the paper Mrs. Carrington mentioned.

"I think I have the clipping about the rescue," observed Miss Porter, groping in her hand bag while her merry eyes twinkled as she observed the increasing embarra.s.sment of Frank. "Yes, here it is."

Frank only glanced at the clipping that was held forward for his inspection. He could not help but notice the glowing head line; "A Signal Act of Bravery," and observe that a very fair picture of himself in the launch was shown.

"You can have it, Mr. Durham," continued his mischievous tormentor with a smile. "Your friends are named also in the paper and they may not dislike honest praise, as you seem to do."

"Now then," broke in Mrs. Carrington, in her self-a.s.sertive way, "let me say what I specially came down here to say. Oh, I was telling about my friends. They have fairly overwhelmed me with congratulations over my fortunate escape."

"Yes, and some of them who saw the newspaper account said-what was it, Mrs. Carrington? You must tell Mr. Durham," declared the younger woman.

"About the handsome picture and what a sensible, thoughtful young man our rescuer must be?"

"Oh, Mrs. Carrington," pleaded Frank. "I beg of you!-it is I who am being overwhelmed now. You will make me so vain I will really begin to think I did something of consequence. Why, there isn't a young fellow anywhere who wouldn't hasten to help ladies in distress."

"Don't belittle what you did," said Mrs. Carrington, and her face and tone grew very serious. "You did so much of consequence, Mr. Durham, and you did it so manfully and n.o.bly that I would not think of affronting you with any offer of a reward. 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 your young companions in a practical, useful way."

"You are very, very kind to say what you do," said Frank earnestly.

"Let me be really kind," suggested Mrs. Carrington, "and I shall be satisfied. My nephew has told me enough about your business plans to convince me that you are at a critical point in your career, where a little capital may be everything to you. I am a wealthy woman, Mr.

Durham. 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 business way."

Frank's head drooped. The boy who never flinched from pain or fear was so deeply moved by the friendly interest of this kind-hearted woman, that he could not keep back a long-drawn sigh of appreciation and grat.i.tude.

"You make me think of my own kind mother," said Frank quite brokenly.

"It is worth living to find such friends."