## The Project Gutenberg eBook of The motion picture chums at the fair

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Title: The motion picture chums at the fair

or, The greatest film ever exhibited

Author: Victor Appleton

Release date: June 17, 2025 [eBook #76331]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1915

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT THE FAIR ***

# The Motion Picture Chums at the Fair

Or

## The Greatest Film Ever Exhibited

BY VICTOR APPLETON

AUTHOR OF "THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' FIRST VENTURE,"
"THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS," "TOM SWIFT SERIES," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK

Copyright, 1915, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Motion Picture Chums at the Fair

THE ZONE THEATRE WAS A GREAT SUCCESS.

## CONTENTS

I. | A Collision
II. | The Rescue
III. | Making Plans
IV. | A Hurried Departure
V. | The Chance Encounter
VI. | A Warning
VII. | At the Fair
VIII. | A Great Disappointment
IX. | Talking It Over
X. | At the Cliff House
XI. | The Lonely Lad
XII. | Queer Actions
XIII. | A Queer Story
XIV. | The Wonderful Films
XV. | A Disclosure
XVI. | Investigation
XVII. | "Wild Life"
XVIII. | Suspicions
XIX. | Hot Words
XX. | At the Asylum
XXI. | The Concession
XXII. | The Theatre
XXIII. | The Theft
XXIV. | Recovery
XXV. | Success

## THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT THE FAIR

## CHAPTER I

### A COLLISION

"Hard times don't seem to bother us much."

"No, the crowds still keep on coming. If it only lasts."

The speakers were two young men, part of a little company gathered in the office of a moving picture theatre on upper Broadway, New York City. On a table in front of the party was a pile of bills and silver.

"Yes, we certainly are taking in the coin," observed Randolph Powell, the first speaker, with a glance at the money.

"All I'm afraid of is that there's likely to be a drop, sooner or later," responded the other, a youth with a slightly freckled face who answered to the name of Pepperill Smith—or, more often, Pep.

"Now, don't talk that way!" objected Randolph, whose name had been shortened by his friends to Randy. "Why shouldn't we enjoy our good luck while it's coming?"

"Oh, of course, I didn't mean anything," spoke Pep, quickly. "But what's the matter with you, Frank? You haven't said a word for the last five minutes."

"Frank's up to some scheme; aren't you, old man?" asked Randy. "Come on, let's have the benefit of your ideas. Doesn't this satisfy you?" and he waved his hand toward the pile of money on the table.

"Well, I should say it ought!" exclaimed a man sitting in one corner of the office. "I call it high-falutin' good, that's what I call it, and let me tell you Hank Strapp of Butte, Montana, isn't an easy person to suit when it comes to cold coin. I like mine plenty and with lots of gravy and white meat!" and he laughed in a hearty way at his own joke.

"Well, if you're satisfied, Mr. Strapp, after all the money you've put into this motion picture business, I'm sure Frank Durham ought to be!" declared Pep, with the quickness for which he was noted. His voice had in it just a tinge of sharpness, though perhaps he did not mean it that way. Frank looked up quickly.

"I'm not finding a bit of fault!" declared the lad, whose face showed that he was perhaps a shade deeper thinker than either of his young chums. "We're doing splendidly; we all agree on that."

"Well, then, what ails you?" demanded Pep.

"Nothing. I'm all right," and Frank smiled at his impetuous friend.

"I don't call it all right for a fellow to sit there, with all that money staring him in the face, and not feel good over it," objected Pep. "You might at least offer to treat us to ice-cream sodas after the best day's business in a year."

"Oh, if it's a matter of soda, of course—come on out and have some," replied Frank, with a smile. "But first we'd better put this away," and he waved at the money which had been neatly arranged in piles on the table, the bills of various denominations stacked by themselves, and the silver arranged in dollar lots, for easy counting.

Outside the office of the motion picture theatre could be heard a jumble of sounds. Above the distant hum and roar of the streets came the sound of women cleaning the rows of theatre seats, and there also came the peculiar hissing sound of the hand-disinfectors which porters were carrying about, spraying the air of the recently emptied playhouse, to make it clean and sweet for the coming performance.

It was about nine o'clock in the morning, and the Empire motion picture place opened at eleven, remaining in continuous operation until that same hour at night. Soon it would be ready for the crowds of patrons which would throng to it to view the wonderful motion pictures on the screen.

The money on the table represented what had been taken in the day and evening before, and, as Pep had remarked, it was the largest day's receipts the motion picture chums had ever received from this particular house—one of several they controlled.

"Hurray! Frank's going to treat!" exclaimed Pep, getting up from the table in such a hurry that he nearly upset it.

"Careful!" cried Randy. "Money doesn't come in so easily, these European war times, that we can afford to scatter it."

"That's right!" chimed in Hank Strapp. "I'd sure hate to see this stuff spilled."

"Huh! Don't worry. I'm not going to spill it," declared Pep. "And now would you look at him," and he pointed to Frank. "There he goes again—mooning!"

And indeed Frank did seem to be in a brown study, from which he had roused himself long enough to offer the soda treat, only to again fall into a reverie.

"Frank, look at me straight!" demanded Hank Strapp, in his breezy, Western way, which, while it was light enough, yet had in it a deal of earnestness. "As between man and man, is anything worrying you? Answer me straight now!"

If anyone could answer Hank Strapp other than "straight" with those clear blue eyes of his looking so fearlessly at one, it would have been an occasion out of the ordinary. Certainly Frank Durham had no such intention.

"Are you worried?" asked Mr. Strapp. "Have any of our old enemies been making trouble for you, unbeknownst to us? Is the business going badly? Has the trust tried to gobble up the supply of some of our films? If they have——" and Hank paused to prepare a sufficiently strong, yet proper expression.

"Nothing at all like that," declared Frank. "I don't see why you are making all this fuss."

"Fuss! As if anyone wouldn't make a fuss when you sit here as glum as an oyster, while we count our hard-earned wealth," broke in Pep. "Think of it! We never before had such crowds coming to our New York house, and they never kept it up so! Why, when other motion picture places, not many blocks away from us, are reeling off their stuff to half-empty seats, we're packed to the doors, and straining the fire department regulations to accommodate our crowds. And you——"

"Hold on, Pep," spoke Frank quietly, but determinedly. "I am not at all dissatisfied. In fact, I'm immensely pleased, and I've just been thinking of a way by which we can make more money, I hope."

"You have? Say, old man, I beg your pardon. Forget all I said!" burst out the impulsive Pep. "Let's hear it!"

"More money! That's me!" cried Hank Strapp. "What's the latest scheme, Frank?"

"And don't leave me out!" begged Randy, pushing some of the piles of money to one side that he might sit on the office table, and hear what his chum had to say.

"It's just this," began Frank. "I've got a new idea, and yet it isn't so very new, for I've been mulling over it for some time. What do you say to opening a motion picture theatre at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco?"

Frank's question produced a momentary silence. Then Pep, as usual, was the first to burst out:

"Great! Immense! That's the best ever! How'd you come to think of that?"

"Well, as I said, I've been figuring on it for some time," answered Frank, "and when I saw how we were coining money here, it occurred to me that we couldn't invest it in any better way than by taking a flier out there. But there are several points to be considered."

"Considered!" cried Pep. "I say it's all settled, if you've thought it over, Frank. We'll do it; eh, Randy?"

"Sure, I'll go into it if the rest of you do," and Randy looked at the bluff Westerner, who had proved himself such a friend to the motion picture chums.

"The Panama Exposition! Just the thing, I say!" was Mr. Strapp's exclamation. "I'm for the West, first, last and always! Anybody who knows Hank Strapp knows that. I don't know all the details, but I'm with Frank in anything he sets out to do."

"Thanks," murmured the proposer of the idea. "Better not be too rash. It will take a lot of money, I'm afraid."

"Well, we've got it," declared Pep, impulsively. "Look at it!" and he waved his hand toward the bills on the table.

"This is my idea," went on Frank, when there suddenly came an interruption, in the shape of a pleasant-faced man, who poked his head through the doorway of the office long enough to ask:

"Anything special in the way of music or effects needed for to-day's reels?"

"Oh, hello, Ben Jolly!" cried out Frank. "Come on in! This concerns you as much as any of us."

"Do you mean this—money?" asked Ben with a smile, as he entered the office.

"Well, partly," admitted Frank. "Some of it's yours. But I was just speaking about opening a motion picture theatre at the Panama Exposition. What do you think of it?"

"Great!" cried Ben, who played the music, and managed the "effects," or various simulating sounds that, nowadays, accompany motion pictures. "You'll want to arrange for an extra big pipe organ, though."

"An organ?" questioned Hank. "What's the matter with a piano out there?"

"An organ is the latest," declared Ben. "We've proved that here at the Empire. You can get better effects, especially in the 'sob reels.' I mean the ones that cause the 'weeps.' They're always effective, especially for the ladies, and when they see something sad, and hear me making slow, tremulous music on a deep-toned organ, with the lights turned low, and all the handkerchiefs in the place wet with tears—say, they'll come in droves! You couldn't keep 'em away if you said there were mice in the place, and women are more afraid of them than an elephant is. Get an organ for that new place, and I'll guarantee you'll be turning 'em away in droves! An organ there will draw better than it has here."

"Well, that's something that can be talked of later," decided Frank. "I'm rather inclined to a new and bigger organ myself. It certainly was a success here—a big success. If we can get a suitable place, in the 'Zone,' as the amusement concession space is called, we can probably have a pipe organ put in before we open. Now as to details——"

Frank suddenly interrupted himself to look at his watch.

"Whew!" he whistled. "Eleven o'clock, and the bank closes at noon on Saturday. I'll just about have time to make it, and I want to get this deposit in to-day, to strengthen our account. We have a lot of bills to meet Monday. I'll have to be off!"

He began to sweep the money into a satchel he used on his trips to and from the bank, for Frank acted as treasurer and cashier at times.

"Have you made out the pay roll?" asked Randy.

"Yes, I've left enough out of our receipts for that. I'll deposit the rest."

"But what about that new plan?" demanded Pep. "If we're going out to San Francisco I want to know it!"

"We can't decide in a hurry," answered Frank. "We'll talk more about it when I come back. But I'm glad to see that you all think well of it; so far at least."

"It's a dandy scheme!" exclaimed Mr. Strapp. "I'll be on my own stamping ground once more, if we get out West. You boys won't be sorry you came; take Hank Strapp's word for that."

"Well, if I can have an organ out there, as I have here, to play sad music on, I'll be satisfied," declared Ben Jolly, with a bright smile.

"We'll talk it all over when I come back from the bank," Frank announced, as he put on his hat and set out with the satchel of money. The others remained behind in the office.

"Films come in all right?" Frank called to one of the young operators, who was up in the sheet-iron "cage" getting ready for the day's performance, which would soon begin.

"All here, and some good ones, too," was the answer. "But say, come to think of it, has Ben Jolly any chain-rattling effect in his box?"

"I think so; but you'd better ask him to make sure," advised Frank. In the Empire, as in all first-class motion picture theatres, the musician, in addition to what effects he can produce on the piano, or organ, has a "box," or mechanical device—several of them, in fact—by which he can produce the sound of almost anything, from a thunder storm to the tinkling of a doorbell, or the puffing of an automobile.

Leaving his operator to arrange for the chain-rattling device, which was called for in one of the pictures, Frank hastened on to the bank, for it was nearly closing time.

As he entered the swinging doors, carrying his satchel of money to deposit, the young man ran full tilt into a portly, red-faced man who was coming out with every appearance of haste.

"Ha! Why don't you look where you're going?" demanded the man, rather breathlessly; for Frank's coin-filled satchel had come in violent contact with his stomach.

"I beg your pardon," Frank said, instinctively. "It was an accident. And, as a matter of fact, you ran into me as much as I ran into you."

"Nonsense! Nothing of the sort. You did it deliberately, and if I had time——"

A violent fit of coughing interrupted the man's hoarse voice.

## CHAPTER II

### THE RESCUE

Frank stood aside in the bank vestibule, to give the excitable stranger room to pass, but the man did not seem to want to take advantage of the courtesy extended by the young motion picture operator.

"I—I don't see what's gotten into you young puppies nowadays," the man blurted out, when he had recovered his voice. "The idea of ramming into me that way! I—I——" But words failed him. His red face grew redder, and his neck swelled up until Frank could think of nothing but a strutting turkey gobbler.

"Out of my way!" the man exclaimed. "You have no business obstructing the door like that."

"Why, I—you——" began Frank, intending to say that the man himself had been at fault, for going to the left instead of the right.

But the fellow gave him no chance. Roughly thrusting Frank to one side the man rushed past him, and out into Broadway, leaving Frank gasping against the marble sides of the bank vestibule.

"Well, of all the nerve!" the lad exclaimed, as he recovered himself, and went on into the institution to make his deposit.

While Frank is doing this I will take just a few lines to tell my new readers something about the characters who are to figure in this story, and also mention the previous books in which are set forth their exploits.

Some two years before the opening of the present story Frank Durham, Pepperill Smith and Randolph Powell had lived in the Pennsylvania town of Fairlands. As might be guessed from the little glimpse I have given you of Frank's character, it was he who first suggested motion pictures, and found a way of employing the savings of himself and his friends. They brought a motion picture theatre outfit to Fairlands, and at once became known as the "motion picture chums." So, most appropriately, I hope, I named the first book of this series "The Motion Picture Chums' First Venture." It was indeed a venturesome beginning for them, and they had many trials and tribulations, but, eventually they succeeded, and made money.

In the second book, "The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park," I had the pleasure of telling you how again Frank found a means of making more money for himself and friends. When the winter season in Fairlands had passed, and local trade became dull with the arrival of hot weather, Frank discovered an opening for a Wonderland No. 2, named after their first venture. In a seaside resort, about fifty miles from New York, they presented a series of films that made good.

Of course that was only a summer resort, and when visitors and cottagers departed the boys found their business gone, too. But they had been getting experience in these months, and this they put to good advantage when they founded their Empire playhouse on upper Broadway, New York City. In the volume named "The Motion Picture Chums on Broadway; Or, The Mystery of the Missing Cash Box," I related their metropolitan successes and troubles, for they had not a few of the latter.

"The Motion Picture Chums' Outdoor Exhibition" told of the film that saved a fortune, and I will leave you to find out for yourselves just how this came about.

Then Frank and his chums had a new idea. They went to Boston, opened a playhouse there, and had the distinction of showing the first real educational films; an idea that originated with Professor Achilles Barrington, a most lovable but odd character.

In Boston, no less than in other places, the chums found rivalry, but they managed to get the best of their enemies, and had a most successful season.

It was now October, and they had come on to New York to make arrangements for showing some imported film dramas, consisting of many reels, which ran the cost up very high. But even with that, they had made money. The motion picture chums had so prospered, thanks to Hank Strapp's aid, that they could afford to hire managers for their various places of amusement, which enabled them to travel about supervising matters, looking for new attractions, and providing for their patrons. They were getting the name of being among the most enterprising of the New York moving picture operators, and of being the first to adopt innovations.

I have mentioned Hank Strapp of Montana, and those of you who have read the other books of the series know what a fine character he was. I need not dwell on him.

As for Ben Jolly, he asked nothing better than to sit down in front of a piano, or pipe organ, and an "effects box," and produce music that went well with the various motion scenes shown, bringing out, meanwhile, the different sounds that added to the effectiveness of the film. Ben had perfected a little arrangement of his own which, he claimed, so perfectly imitated the barking of a dog that he had a standing offer among the employees of the Empire, to scare with his device any cat they might bring in. And he did it, too!

Sometimes Ben would have so many "effects" to produce that he took this task for himself alone, leaving his helper to play the piano or organ.

Hal Vincent, a ventriloquist and cornet player, was also an efficient and faithful helper to the boys. He was sometimes at one, and sometimes at another, of the various enterprises the chums owned, for they had, in addition to those I have mentioned, the Model at Belleview, up the Hudson.

The motion picture chums had aided and befriended many young fellows since their first venture, and some of these lads they hired to look after their interests in the various theatres. But it was to Hank Strapp and Ben Jolly that they clung most closely, and on whom they depended most for help. Ever since Frank had saved the Westerner from losing a large sum of money through a swindler, Strapp had remained with his new friends, and had invested goodly sums in their various enterprises.

Of late matters had been going excellently at the Empire, the best-paying theatre in the chain the chums controlled, and it was at a gathering of his friends to talk over matters that Frank had made the proposal about the Panama Exposition.

Then had come the interruption when he went to the bank, and the collision with the choleric man.

"Well, I like his nerve—not!" exclaimed Frank with boyish earnestness as he watched the red-faced individual make his way through the throng of pedestrians on the street. "There he goes again!" the lad cried, as he saw his late antagonist encounter a man in the street, colliding with, and nearly knocking him down. "He must have the habit," Frank went on, grimly, as he adjusted his hat, which had been knocked askew, and proceeded on to the brass-grated window of the receiving teller. "I don't like that man at all—not for a cent, and if I meet him again I'll give him a clear path.

"I'd know him again, sure!" Frank declared to himself. "I never saw a man with such a red face, and it wasn't all from anger, either. He'll have apoplexy if he isn't careful."

"Hello, Frank!" called the receiving teller, as our hero, or, rather, one of them, approached the window. "What was that chap in the vestibule trying to do; get your cash away from you?"

"Hardly!" laughed Frank. "He didn't seem very steady on his feet. Did you see what he did?"

"Yes. He was on the wrong side. He must be an Englishman; going to the left that way."

"He has an English name anyhow," remarked the paying teller, at the next window, for business was slack just at that moment.

"Did he cash a check?" inquired his fellow-employee from his "cage."

"He tried to. Signed his name—Royston—with a big flourish and said he wanted it in big bills."

"Did you give it to him?" asked Frank, as he shoved his satchel full of money in through the brass wicket, which the receiving teller opened for him.

"I did not. The check was good enough, I knew that, but I said he'd have to be identified, as he was a stranger to me. Whew! But he got as mad as a wet hen; said it was a shame and all that! Said he'd done business with this bank before. But he couldn't prove it, and I wouldn't give him the money until he made himself better known than by just endorsing a check with enough ink to make half a dozen ordinary signatures."

"Maybe that's what made him mad, so he tried to bowl me over," suggested Frank, stepping down to speak to the paying teller, while the receiving clerk was counting the cash the motion picture lad had handed in.

"Shouldn't wonder," the teller agreed. "Funny how some people get mad when you simply ask them to comply with ordinary banking rules. And I've always noticed that it's the cheap chaps; the tin-horn sports, or the man with very little money, who makes the most fuss.

"Why, I've had millionaires, strangers to me, come in here to cash checks, and when I said they'd have to be identified, they wouldn't make the least fuss about it. They'd make themselves known in a way that was satisfactory. But let some fellow come in here with a big idea of his own importance, and he gets a flea in his ear right away if I question him. That's Royston's sort, I guess."

"Royston, eh?" murmured Frank. "So that was his name?"

"Yes, and it ought to be Roysterer or Roasterer from the way he acted. Nearly knocked you down, I understand."

"Yes," answered Frank.

"Here you are—all correct," spoke the receiving teller, as he entered the amount Frank had deposited on the pass-book, and tendered that and the now empty satchel to the youth. "You're putting in big money these days, Frank."

"Yes, we're doing pretty well, thank you. Better prospects ahead, too."

"You don't say. Something new?"

"Yes, if I can make it work. Going out to the Panama Exposition."

"You don't say! Well, I'm glad to hear that, but we'll be sorry to lose you."

"Oh, I'll still bank our New York receipts here," Frank said.

"Thanks. We like to do business with you," and with a nod the teller took the deposit of the next in line, Frank making his way out of the bank.

"Whew! That Royston chap certainly gave me a bang!" remarked Frank, as he walked along. His shoulder was beginning to feel lame where the man had collided with him, and afterward whirled him so unceremoniously against the marble wainscoting of the vestibule. "I'll be stiff," Frank went on, swinging his arm about so vigorously that he nearly struck the hat of a girl walking just ahead of him.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "I wasn't thinking of what I was doing."

"That's all right," she assured him, with a smile and a glance from a pair of bright eyes. "No harm done."

"Guess I'll have to stop using the street as a gym," murmured Frank, as he passed on, after raising his hat.

His arm was really paining him, though he knew it was nothing serious. He was considering whether he had time to attend to some business matters in the vicinity of the bank before going back to the Empire office.

"No, I think I'd better go back," he decided to himself. "I want to see how those 'Pickwick' films are running."

For he and his chums had recently contracted for the exclusive right, in their vicinity, of showing a series of motion pictures, depicting the life of that most famous of Dickens's characters.

"And the boys will want to talk more about that Panama scheme," Frank decided. "I'll let the business stand until Monday and go back now to the theatre."

Frank was crossing Broadway at a point where traffic was unusually congested at that moment, when he noticed a rather oddly-dressed man rushing forward without any regard to the danger of passing wagons and automobiles.

"Hi there! Look out!" Frank cried in warning.

The man turned his face toward him, showing to the lad a much excited countenance. There was a wild look in the man's eyes, as though his thoughts were either far away, or as if he were reckless enough not to care what he did.

"Wait a minute," advised Frank, coming up behind the man. "The traffic policeman will hold up the machines in a little while, and you can go on."

"No time to wait! No time to wait!" was the sharp retort. "I must go on now!"

He made a dash forward just as a swiftly-moving auto swung around a corner. It was coming straight for the wild-eyed man.

"Look out!" Frank yelled, springing to the rescue with a hand extended to pull the man out of danger.

## CHAPTER III

### MAKING PLANS

Frank managed to grasp the coat of the wild-eyed man who seemed so bent on rushing into danger. The slightly bruised arm of the young motion picture owner gave a twinge as he exerted his strength, but he did not desist.

"Hold on! What do you want to do? Get yourself killed?" demanded Frank, as he pulled the man toward him.

"I—I—oh, I don't know!" was the surprising answer. The man fairly stumbled against Frank, so great was the force of the pull exerted by the lad. And, as the stranger thus came in closer proximity to him, the youth had a chance to look at him more intently, though it was but a fleeting moment ere the automobile rushed past, its mud-guards grazing the man Frank had saved.

The youth had undoubtedly saved the man from severe injury, if not death. The automobile, a big limousine, was going at a pace that would have precluded the chauffeur from stopping it, and as it was rounding a curve, and there were other vehicles on the outside, there was no chance to turn out of the way.

"You should watch where you are going," was Frank's warning. He looked at the man, and, among other things, saw that he was without a collar or necktie. This might not have been so remarkable had it not been for the fact that the man was otherwise well dressed, though his garments showed the need of brushing and pressing.

One other thing impressed Frank: the man had on one black shoe and one tan-colored one, forming a strange contrast. But Frank, after the first quick glance, which took in these oddities in the man's attire, was most attracted and surprised by the look on his face.

"If ever there was wild-eyed despair and anguish written on a man's face I saw it there," Frank said afterward in telling of the occurrence. "The man seemed to have lost all hope."

Frank was used to dramatic episodes. He saw enough of them in the motion pictures thrown daily on the screen in the theatres, but he was not so hardened but what this scene affected him.

"Didn't you see that auto?" he asked of the man, as he released his grip on the coat sleeve, and picked up the satchel he himself had dropped.

"No, I didn't see it, and I—I don't much care! I might just as well be dead as in the fix I'm in. Oh, why didn't you let me go?" he begged, piteously.

"Don't talk that way!" said Frank, sharply.

"Oh, I'm thankful to you, of course," the man went on. "But I——"

A policeman strolled up, drawn by the little crowd.

"What's wrong?" the officer asked, curiously.

"Oh, it's all right now," Frank said, with a smile. "This gentleman was in too much of a hurry, and tried to get in the way of an automobile. This is a busy corner!"

"Indeed it is, young man," agreed the officer. "Not hurt; are you, sir?" and he looked at the man Frank had saved. Then the oddity of the stranger's attire impressed the policeman, and he winked his left eye at Frank, as though to say that the individual might be "a little off in the upper story," as Hank Strapp expressed it later, on hearing the tale.

"Oh, no, I'm not hurt, thanks to this young man," responded the stranger. Then he mumbled something to himself, and put his hand to his head in a dazed sort of way. A moment later he pulled away from the light grasp Frank had, almost unconsciously, held on his arm, and darted across the street.

Before he went he suddenly exclaimed:

"Maybe there's a chance yet! I must save it before they get it all, or I shall be ruined. I never will dare go back and face him! Oh, what a loss! What a loss!"

He darted across the street, under the very noses of cab horses, and right in front of several autos, one of which drew up with such a sharp application of brakes that the big rubber tires slid on the pavement.

The officer and Frank looked at one another knowingly.

"Something queer, there," remarked Frank.

"I should say so," agreed the policeman. "Did you take note of his shoes—one black and the other tan?"

"Yes; and without a collar or tie," added Frank. "He surely is wrong somewhere."

Then the youth passed on, the officer went back to his post, and Frank almost forgot the incident, though it was destined to have a strange effect on his future.

"Well, what about your exposition plans?" asked Randy, when Frank returned to the Empire office.

"Yes, let us hear something," added Pep. "If we're going to do business out there we'd better get started."

"Well, of course I haven't it all worked out yet," replied Frank, "and, as was the case with all the plans we have made, this one is also subject to the approval of you three," and he looked at his friends. In times past they had done nothing without acting in perfect harmony, and though often one of the boys would be set on doing something, he gave it up if there was not an unanimous vote in its favor. Perhaps this explained the success of the motion picture chums.

"Oh, we'll be in favor of it, if there's any money to be made at it—provided, of course, that it's all right," said Randy.

"Sure thing!" agreed Pep. "What's the matter with your arm?" he asked, as he noticed Frank wince a little. "Strain it carrying so much money to the bank?"

"Not exactly," answered his chum, "though it was in the bank it happened," and he told of the Royston incident, and also of having saved the apparently demented man from injury.

"Say, you're getting as exciting as a moving picture reel yourself," spoke Hank. "First you bang into an angry man, and then into a lunatic. But sit down and tell us what's what."

"It's simple enough to tell," replied Frank, as he looked over some mail that had come in. "I thought if we could get a concession in the amusement Zone at the exposition, we could open a motion picture theatre there and make some good cash during the months the big fair is under way."

"Would you have that extra big organ I spoke of?" asked Ben Jolly, for he had come into the office during an intermission. "I've gotten so used to this one here that I wouldn't know how to get along without one."

"Oh, yes, I guess we'll have to get you the new organ," agreed Frank, smiling.

"But look here," said Pep. "We'll have to show some pretty classy reels to the kind of audiences we'd cater to out at the fair. We couldn't run that Snakeville stuff, and the 'Dangers of Desdemona' never-ending episodes. The people out there will want more solid meat."

"I agree with you," said Frank. "We'll have to go in for real dramas, played by Broadway stars. With that, and with some foreign things I am negotiating for, I think we could make up a bill that would bring the crowds. Of course we'll have to have humorous stuff, too, and short light comedy reels to fill in with. Now I've done all the talking, and it's up to you fellows. What do you say?"

"I say it's dandy, if I can have a specially made organ and a good effect box," said Ben Jolly.

"I'm willing to invest my share in the plan," agreed Randy.

"It's great! That's what I say!" cried Pep, with his usual impetuosity. "Let's start right off!"

"We haven't heard from Mr. Strapp yet," said Frank, with a smile at the big ranchman.

Strapp slowly uncoiled one leg where it had been crossed over the other. He took from his pocket a newspaper he had been reading, and said impressively:

"Well, boys, I'd like to go in with you, but I don't believe it can be done. You're too late!"

The motion picture chums looked wonderingly at one another. What did the Westerner mean?

## CHAPTER IV

### A HURRIED DEPARTURE

"Mr. Strapp, you'll have to explain," spoke Frank, slowly, as he looked at the former ranchman. "It isn't like you to say something like that, and then let us guess at your meaning."

"And I'm not going to this time, either," declared the Westerner. "That isn't Hank Strapp's way. I'm going to explain."

But he seemed in no hurry to do this. He carefully unfolded the newspaper he had taken from his pocket, and began leisurely to look over the printed pages as if in search of some item. He was so deliberate about it that Pep, with his usual impetuosity, exclaimed:

"Say, we couldn't get up a motion picture of you making an explanation, no matter how we tried!"

"Is that so, son? Why not?" asked the man from Montana, drawlingly.

"Because you don't move fast enough, that's the reason," said Pep, quickly. "Come on, let's hear why we can't go to the Panama Exposition, and open a motion picture place in the Zone, as Frank plans."

"Because it's too late," declared Strapp. "Here's a piece in the paper that tells about it. I thought I should find it. It says that the Zone has proved so popular as an amusement place that all the concessions have been snapped up. There's everything out there from an old time Forty-niner's gold camp, to an upside down pendulum that lifts you up nearly 270 feet, and from toy towns to a giants' cave. But every concession is gone, this article says, and that's why it's too late for us to think of opening a motion picture theatre there."

For a moment there was silence in the office of the Empire. Then Frank said:

"Let's see that article, Mr. Strapp. Maybe it isn't as bad as you make out."

"Oh, I'm not trying to make it out bad," was the answer. "I'm as anxious to go out West as you fellows are; more so, in fact, for I sure would like to get astride of a pony once more, and feel the wind in my face. But I don't want you to go out there and be plumb disappointed. That's why I'm speaking against it."

Frank was busy reading the article in question. As he perused it his face brightened, and finally he exclaimed:

"Say, this may be all right, after all! It doesn't say with any official authority that all the concessions are taken up."

"What do you mean—any authority?" asked Randy.

"I mean this doesn't come from anyone in authority at the fair. It's just written by some reporter, who probably guessed at his facts. I'm not going to be hindered by this."

"You're not?" cried Strapp. "Do you mean to say you're going to move this outfit—and all of us—out to the Panama Fair, when it says in the paper we can't get space?"

"Well, I'll make some inquiries first, of course," answered Frank, with a smile, "but I'm not going to back out because of this," and he tapped the folded paper.

"Well, you've got me beat!" Hank Strapp had a great respect for printed matter. For a long time he had accepted as true everything he saw in the papers, until the boys had laughed it out of him, to a great extent. But he still had some of his faith.

"If this came as a statement from the fair managers I'd take more stock in it," said Frank. "As it is—it's only a rumor."

"Well, maybe you're right," agreed Hank slowly. "But if I were you I wouldn't lose any time. There must be a good call for space in the Zone, or such articles as this wouldn't be printed."

"I agree with you," spoke Frank. "And we've got to hurry out there and clinch matters. I really didn't think there was such need for haste; but I believe it now. We'll get out to San Francisco as soon as we can, and see about fitting up a theatre there. I'm sure it will be a money-maker."

"But can we draw the crowds with so many other things going on?" asked Randy, who was inclined to be cautious.

"Of course we can!" declared Pep. "Didn't we draw 'em in the hot summer, when there was bathing and other attractions along the board-walk? Of course we did. And that Zone will be open day and night, and for a long time. Of course we'll make money!"

"It will draw better if we have the right kind of an organ," put in Ben Jolly, who had another "resting spell." Then he went on: "There's a new kind, with special stops, and——"

"Oh, we'll have the organ, all right," declared Frank; "that is, if we have anything at all. And now I'll tell you what I'm going to do, if you all agree with me," he went on. "I'll just telegraph out to the Zone management, and see what space they have left, telling them what we want. Then we can decide what to do."

"Good idea!" cried Pep. "And prepay the reply, so we won't be held-up, waiting."

"I'll do that," agreed Frank. "And now we have a lot to do if we are to go to the big fair."

Indeed there was plenty of work ahead, if they could carry out their latest plans, and, in order that the chances might be good for doing this, Frank's first care was to send off the telegram.

Then, while waiting for an answer, he had to look after some details connected with the various other motion picture playhouses they operated. The chums were also busy with several matters.

Each day there came, by mail, to the Empire office, a statement of the previous day's business at each of the resorts. The receipts and expenditures were given in detail, and Frank also insisted on a report as to how the various reels were enjoyed by the patrons.

In this way he learned what "took," and what was not acceptable, and this governed him and his friends in their selections. Most of the reports had been gone over that morning before Frank broached his new plan, and before the various encounters in going to the bank. Now it remained to consider them.

So, after the telegram had been sent, and while the afternoon performance was well under way in the Empire, the three chums and Strapp considered matters connected with the two Wonderlands, the Boston place and the Airdrome, which had not yet closed for the season.

"The Boston place is doing better than I expected," said Frank, as he glanced at the report. "The crowds are taking better to strictly amusement films than we hoped. We can't always be running educational reels, you know."

"I should say not!" cried Hank. "Why don't you try them on a few Western dramas—cow-punching and the like?"

"It's a little too soon for that," remarked Frank. "I'll go a bit slow. But we've got to do something for the Airdrome. The attendance there is falling off."

"Send Hal Vincent up," suggested Randy. "He can put on that new ventriloquist act of his. That's always popular."

"I think we'll do that," agreed Frank.

"And try the scheme of giving a box of candy to the lucky ticket holder," advised Pep. "That's always a drawing card. All the admission tickets are numbered, you know. We can get them in duplicate just as well, the person to hold one end, and the other to go in a hat. At the end of the performance someone draws out one of the duplicate stubs, and whoever has the same numbered ticket gets the box of candy."

"Good idea!" decided Frank. "It's been done before, but it's always good. Write and tell 'em to do that up there, Randy," he went on, for Randy had been acting as secretary of late.

Then other matters connected with the business were considered, letters were written, new films were ordered, advertising schemes were talked over until, finally, it was six o'clock, and the chums left the Empire to go to dinner.

"No answer yet?" asked Pep of Frank, when they had come back to the theatre, for they made it a point on Saturday nights, when in New York, to see, personally, to the putting away of the day's receipts, which were generally heavy.

"Nothing from San Francisco yet," answered Frank. "But give 'em time. They're probably pretty busy out there."

It was nearly closing time for the Empire when a messenger came shuffling up to the office with the looked-for telegram. Frank, Pep and Randy were together, Ben Jolly being engaged at the organ, and Hank Strapp reckoning up accounts with the ticket seller.

"I hope it's good news," murmured Randy.

"It's got to be!" declared Pep, impulsively.

Frank tore open the envelope.

"'Some space left,'" he read. "'Would advise haste in making a selection.'"

"Humph!" murmured Frank, as he passed the yellow slip over to Pep. "He didn't waste any words. Well, it's encouraging, to say the least. Now, fellows, it's up to you. What shall we do?"

"Go, of course!" was Pep's quick answer.

"I think we could make a success of it," spoke Randy, more quietly.

"It will mean that we'll have to go out there right away," said Frank. "We've got to act quickly."

"The quicker, the better!" was Pep's comment. "Things are in shape here so we can leave; aren't they?"

"Oh, yes," Frank answered. When, a little later, the Empire had closed until Monday morning, there was a gathering of the chums and their two friends, Ben Jolly and Hank Strapp, and the decision was reached that they should at once start for San Francisco.

"Monday night will see us on our way," declared Frank, at the conclusion of the conference. "We can close up all matters here by that time."

"Can't we reserve space in the Zone by wire?" asked Pep.

"I suppose we might," said Frank, "but it would be rather risky. I'd rather see what we're getting. Sometimes being on the wrong side of a street will spoil the success of a motion picture place. And if we reserved a place by telegraph we'd have to accept it. No, I think we'll have time enough after we get out there. It will only take five days if we have good luck."

Monday was a busy time for the motion picture chums. They had to turn over the management of the New York theatre to others, though this was comparatively easy, as it had been done before. Then financial matters had to be arranged, for they would need to take a considerable sum to San Francisco with them.

Frank went to the bank to transact some business.

"Well, you didn't meet your friend; did you?" asked the teller to whom he stopped to speak before leaving.

"What friend?" asked Frank, his mind busy with other matters.

"I mean the one who collided with you Saturday."

"No, he doesn't seem to be on hand to-day," was the reply. "And say, he wasn't the only freak I ran into that day."

"No?" asked the teller, with interest.

"I pulled a man from in front of an auto out in front of the bank shortly afterward," said the youth, as he narrated his experience with the oddly-dressed man.

"Well, you sure had your hands full," observed the teller.

Finally matters were in such shape that the motion picture chums could prepare to leave for San Francisco on the midnight train. That there was need of haste in picking out a place in the Zone was borne out by articles in that day's papers, telling how near the Panama Exposition was to opening, and what a wonderful place the amusement section would be.

Trunks and valises had been hurriedly packed, tickets purchased and Ben Jolly had played his last improvisation on the Empire piano—at least his last in some time, he hoped.

"I'll be fingering that big organ next, I hope," he said.

Frank had made tentative plans for reserving options on some exclusive films he expected to show at the fair, if he could get space. The other chums had done their share in arranging for the hurried departure, and Hank Strapp as usual gave valuable assistance.

"And now we're off!" cried Pep, as they went toward the sleeping-car which was to be their home for several days in the rush across the country.

"Yes, we're off," said Frank.

It was almost time for the train to leave, when looking out of his window Frank saw a portly, red-faced man hurrying along, two porters carrying his valises.

"If I don't get the best berth in the car you fellows won't get a cent out of me!" the man exclaimed in surly tones. "Why don't you get a move on! You walk as though you were stepping in molasses!"

"Yais, sah!" murmured one of the men, deferentially.

At that moment the train started to pull out, and one porter, giving his valises to his companion, seized the passenger by the shoulders and began pushing him forward on the run.

## CHAPTER V

### THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER

"Here! What do you mean? How dare you!" cried the portly passenger. "Let go of me at once!" he ordered.

"No, sah, boss! I dassn't do it!" was the reply of the grinning porter who had him by the shoulders. "Keep movin', 'cause I'se suah gwine t' keep shovin'."

"But I say! Look out! I won't have it! I won't have it, I tell you!" objected the stout, red-faced man. The motion picture boys, attracted by the commotion, had looked from their windows, for their sleeping-car was close, and the sashes had been lifted before the train started.

"Can't let yo' all miss yo' berth, boss!" explained the porter who was shoving the man along. "Come along wif dem bags, George. I'll git him abo'd somehow, ef I has t' carry him. Cain't affo'd t' lose no tips dese yeah hard times! Now, den, sah!"

With a mighty heave the porter, with the help of a brakeman, lifted the portly man up on the steps of a sleeping-car. The car-porter, willing to oblige his fellow-employees, had kept the vestibule door open, and the platform that covered the steps was up, or otherwise the feat could not have been performed.

But, as it was, the belated passenger was fairly forced aboard the train, and not a moment too soon.

"Why—why——" he panted. "If you fellows——"

"Chuck up dem valises, George!" ordered the panting black man who had so hurried his charge. "Dere yo' are, sah. You didn't miss yo' train, an' Henry will see dat yo' gits a good berth; won't yo', Henry?"

"Dat's what I will, sah!" laughed the car-porter.

Frank and his chums, by leaning out of their windows, had witnessed the conclusion of the little comedy. And yet it was not wholly over. For the two platform porters stood expectant.

The portly man, breathing hard, stood in a dazed manner on the platform, hardly knowing whether or not he had "arrived." But he was safely on board the moving train, and his baggage was at his feet. The two platform porters held out their hands significantly.

"No, you don't get anything from me!" stormed the stout man. "I won't be handled like a dog, and then give up good tips for it. No, sir!"

"'Scuse me, sah, but yo' all had better go inside," broke in the car porter, and, as he stooped over to pick up the satchels he, accidentally, or otherwise, hit against the closed hand of the man. From the fist there flew out a bright half dollar, that fell, with a ringing sound, on the concrete platform alongside the train.

"Thank you, sah!" chorused the two grinning colored men, as one of them picked up the rolling coin.

"Well!" exclaimed the man. "Of all the——"

But the rest of what he said was not heard by Frank and his chums, for the car-porter hurried his charge inside and closed the vestibule door.

"Well, if that wasn't the same man——" began Frank, as he drew his head in from the window.

"What's that?" interrupted Pep.

"I thought I knew that man," said Frank, more slowly. "But I guess I was mistaken. He surely was fussed up, though."

"But the porters got what they wanted—their tips," remarked Randy. "Well, now we're settled down for a long ride."

"With success at the end of it, I hope," remarked Frank. "My, but we have done some hustling this day!"

Indeed they all had, including Ben Jolly and Hank Strapp. But as Strapp himself said, he was used to it, for he liked nothing better than to have to do something in a hurry. It reminded him, he said, of when he was actively engaged on the ranch, or in some of his mining ventures.

"And in those days you had to be up pretty early to get ahead of Hank Strapp!" exclaimed the breezy Westerner.

"I guess anyone would have to, even yet," said Pep, with a laugh.

As he went to bed a little later, the porter having made up the various berths, Frank could not help recalling the scene of the portly man who had been so hurriedly helped aboard by the colored men.

"If it's the same one. I'm just as glad he isn't in our car," he murmured, as he dozed off.

"Well, this is some different from the time we had in Boston," observed Randy the next morning, as his chums, with Strapp and Ben, were sitting together, planning to go to the dining-car for breakfast.

"I should say so!" agreed Frank, looking out of the window at the swiftly-moving scenery. They had been carried along all night, and were now well on their way West. "Well, I hope we don't get mixed up with any fires, or lost camels, or anything like that," he went on. "There are some busy times ahead of us, to my way of thinking, if we can get the concession we want, and start our motion picture place."

"Yes—if we can get a concession," agreed Mr. Strapp. "But I'm thinking you'll have trouble there."

"Might as well be cheerful while you're about it," suggested Ben, drumming with his fingers on the window sill, as though strumming a piano at a performance, or producing some of his wonderful pipe organ effects.

"I don't want you boys to be too disappointed," was Strapp's answer. "I'd rather look on the dark side, and be agreeably surprised by a silver lining to the cloud, than think we'd found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and, later on, have it turn into lead."

"I think things will be all right," spoke Randy. He was of a hopeful disposition.

"Well, I hope we have ham and eggs for breakfast," broke in Pep. "And I'm going to find out right away. Who's with me?"

"I am!" cried Ben Jolly, and the party of five started for the dining-car ahead, where, as a white-aproned porter had announced, a short time before, breakfast was being served.

As Frank was leading the way to two tables, where he and his friends could be accommodated, there came out of the farther end of the car a burly, red-faced man.

At the sight of him Frank stopped, and stared rather boldly, at the same time murmuring in a low voice:

"It is he! It's the same one. I wasn't mistaken!"

At that moment the train rounded a curve, and Frank, making a grab for the edge of a table to steady himself, missed his hold. He was thrown rather violently against the stout man, who gasped as the breath was jarred from him.

"I beg your pardon," said Frank, recovering his balance.

For a moment the man did not speak—he could not, in fact. Then, as his breath came back to him he gasped:

"You—you'd better! The idea—careening into me that way. What do you mean? You ought to look where you're going!"

"He couldn't help it, sah," interposed a waiter. "Pow'ful bad curve right yeah, sah. Passengers done has t' look out fo' derese'ves. Pow'ful bad curve!"

"That's no excuse for walking all over a man," growled the portly individual, scowling at Frank. At the same time Pep nudged Randy, and whispered:

"That's the same one who had the fuss with the porters last night."

"So I see," responded Randy. "He seems to have a perpetual grouch on."

"That's what," agreed Pep.

By this time the portly man had straightened up. He was about to pass on when he looked at Frank more closely.

"Hello!" he half growled. "I've seen you before!"

"Possibly," admitted Frank.

"Indeed I have," went on the man. "You ran into me once before, a few days back. I haven't forgotten it, either. It was in a bank. You seem to have a bad habit, young man," he sneered.

"That was an accident, just as this was," responded Frank, and his voice was decidedly formal. "In fact, on the other occasion it was you who ran into me. This time it was not my fault. The train threw me."

"Bah! You're careless!" declared the man. "Keep out of my way!" and he lurched on to his seat at a table.

"Yes, that's the same man," said Frank to himself, though not so low but that Pep heard him.

"What man do you mean?" he asked.

"The same one I ran into at the bank on Saturday," Frank explained. "His name is Royston, so the teller told me."

Frank's voice was louder now, and as he mentioned that name a gentleman seated at an adjoining table turned quickly and looked at our hero. There was something in his look that made Frank glance at him a second time. The man seemed to convey a warning.

## CHAPTER VI

### A WARNING

Frank was so impressed by the look on the stranger's face that, for a moment, he almost made up his mind to speak to him, though he had never seen him before. The man who had thus given Frank the glance of warning was a quiet-looking person, as soberly dressed as his manner was restrained. Yet his clothing was expensive and he seemed to be a cultured gentleman.

Evidently something in Frank's manner must have conveyed to him that the young man had it in mind to speak, for once again catching Frank's eye, the man slowly shook his head, as though to discourage any opening to an introduction, at least just then.

"I wonder what he means?" thought Frank to himself. "He heard me mention the name Royston, and he looked interested. Well, I guess I'll go a bit slow."

The unpleasant incident of the chance encounter with the man Frank had collided with in the bank, gradually passed away. The chums and their friends busied themselves about ordering a substantial breakfast, Pep getting the ham and eggs he had specified.

"And that's the fellow you had the row with?" questioned Randy, as there came a pause in the clatter of knives and forks.

"Not so loud," cautioned Frank, for the train had come to a stop, and there was silence in the dining-car. "He'll hear you."

Indeed the portly man was looking, at that moment, around at the tables where sat our friends. But if he heard what Randy said he gave no sign, and went on eating.

He was a most particular person, for he ordered several dishes and after inspecting them through his nose glasses, sent them back, to the no small annoyance of the waiter. Finally the manager of the car himself came up, and there ensued some rather warm talk.

"Well, I know what I want, and I'm going to have it if I pay for it!" stormed the portly man. "You fellows can't bluff me! You're a set of legalized robbers, anyhow, in this Pullman service!"

The manager and the waiters were probably used to such unfair treatment, for they did not reply. Frank looked at the quiet man at the table just beyond him, and again was aware of an unexpressed signal of warning in the steelly blue eyes that looked into his.

"I wonder what it means?" thought Frank. "I'm going to find out before I'm much older, though. There is something queer about this man Royston, of that I'm certain."

Breakfast was almost over, and yet the friends lingered at the table, for they had much to talk about. Their start for the big fair had been very sudden.

Pep wanted Frank to send another telegram, en route, telling the manager of the Zone concessions that they were on their way to pick out a place, and to urge him to save one for them.

But Frank, and the older members of the party also, decided that too much risk was involved in this, and agreed that it was better to wait until arriving on the ground.

"Well, there's nothing we can do except look at the scenery," remarked Randy, as he prepared to rise from the table.

"Look out!" suddenly exclaimed Frank, for, at that moment, Royston was coming down the aisle, on the way back to his coach. Frank had felt the train about to take another curve, and he did not want his chum to have an encounter with the crusty man.

As it was, Royston swayed as he came near Randy, and, only for the fact that Frank pulled his chum to one side, there might have been a collision.

"Humph! You young fellows always seem to be getting in the way," grumbled the red-faced man. "But maybe it was my fault this time." He made a pretense at smiling, and it was evident that he was in better humor since his breakfast.

"Yes, there seems to be a lot of bad curves around here," observed Strapp, always ready to be friendly with everyone. "Are you going far, sir?"

"All the way to 'Frisco," replied the man. "How about you folks?"

He seemed decidedly friendly now.

"Oh, we're going there, too—to the Fair," replied the Westerner.

At that moment Frank caught sight of the face of the quiet man, still seated at his breakfast, and Frank was sure he saw the man shake his head in negation, as though he wanted to convey the idea that it was best not to get acquainted with the portly man.

So sure was Frank of this that he decided to make use of his impression, so, accordingly, he interrupted with:

"Oh, Mr. Strapp! There's something I want to ask you about. I almost forgot it. Come back to our car. I may have to write back to New York and we can mail the letter at the next stop."

"Oh, all right," said the unsuspicious Westerner. "I thought we attended to everything back East."

Hank Strapp was already speaking of the East as though he was well out West.

"It's just a little matter," said Frank. "It won't take long."

The man Royston looked at Frank a bit suspiciously, as though he suspected the conversation was manufactured on the spur of the moment, but he said nothing. Instead he closed his lips over the utterance he had half formed, and went on his way out of the dining-car.

As Frank walked past the quiet man he saw the latter carefully extend a slip of paper, in the shadow of the cut-glass water carafe on the table. Without looking at the slip Frank managed to pick it up as he passed, none of his companions being aware of his action.

Back in their own coach Frank did consult with Hank about a certain matter concerning some films they had leased. And when this was over, and Randy was writing a letter, to be dropped off at the next station, Frank found time to look at the note the quiet man had passed him. It was brief. He read:

"Make a chance to see me alone, if possible. I want to warn you."

The note was signed "Richard Bullard, United States Secret Service."

"Whew!" whistled Frank. "I wonder what's in the wind now? United States Secret Service, eh? That sure is going some, as Mr. Strapp would say. I wonder what I'd better do?"

In a moment Frank had made up his mind that there was but one thing to do—to obey the instructions given in the note. At first the young man was in two minds about taking some of his friends into his confidence. Then he decided against that course.

"If it amounts to anything at all, I can tell them later," he said. "And, on the other hand, if it isn't anything, I can slide out of it all the easier if I haven't made a fuss over it and told them all. Yes, I'll just keep quiet about it, and see Mr. Bullard alone."

It was not easy to make this opportunity, for Randy and Pep wanted to talk with him on many subjects, and they would not leave him alone for any length of time. It was easier in regard to Hank and Ben Jolly, for they were content to sit by the window, now and then gazing out at the scenery, or dozing off. The farther West the train proceeded the more Strapp became interested. He was continually seeing some point of interest that connected itself with his past life in the land of the plains.

Finally, however, Frank found an opportunity to stroll out of his car. He had seen Mr. Bullard nod toward the coach in front of the dining-car, and Frank believed the Secret Service man had his seat in there. The coach of the chums was in the rear of the dining-car.

Frank made his way forward, and as he passed through the dining-coach he encountered, in the buffet, or lunch-room end of the vehicle, the portly, red-faced Royston, who was eating a sandwich.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, on sight of Frank. "I'm eating again, you see!"

"Yes," responded Frank, but his voice was not at all cordial.

"I always eat between breakfast and lunch," Royston went on. "It keeps me from getting run down."

A look at his portly frame did not disclose any evidences of the "running down" to which he referred. Frank passed on, taking good care to keep far enough away from the unpleasant passenger so there could be no excuse for the claim of another collision.

"What part of the fair are you making for?" asked Royston, pausing with a sandwich half way to his mouth, as Frank passed on.

"We haven't decided yet," was the answer, and Frank heard the stout man grunt. Whether this was because of the shortness of the answer, or because a lurch of the train threw the heavy man against the side of the buffet, Frank did not stop to determine.

The youth passed on into the next coach, and looked about. Almost at once his eyes rested on the face of the quiet man, who seemed to be on the watch for him.

"I am glad you came in," said Mr. Bullard. "First I must apologize for the manner in which I forced myself upon you, but I am trying to do you a service."

"That's all right," said Frank, easily. "I appreciate your efforts. Am I right in thinking your warning has to do with Royston?"

"Ah, I see you know his name then, or, rather, one of them," replied Mr. Bullard. "Yes, it has to do with him. Now I don't know you, or your friends, but I do know this man. And I don't know your plans or business, and I can't say I know all of his. But I do know enough about him to warn you against having anything to do with him. I can see that, in spite of his grouchiness, he is aiming to get better acquainted with you, for his own objects, doubtless. Are you annoyed that I should speak this way?" he asked.

"Not at all," replied Frank, cordially. "In fact, I want to thank you. I haven't liked that man since I first met him."

"Do you mind telling me how you did meet him?" asked the Secret Service man. "Not that it's any of my business," he added, quickly. "But I am on that man's trail, and——"

"Is he an escaping criminal?" asked Frank, quickly, all his suspicions coming to the fore.

"Not exactly, as yet, though he may be," was the reply. "I am keeping him shadowed, as we call it. He doesn't know me, and I don't want him to suspect. That is why I asked you to come to me secretly. I know this man to be unprincipled. One of the names he goes by is Bradley Royston. It is sufficiently aristocratic for his purposes at times. But you haven't told me how you came to meet him."

"It was in our bank," Frank explained, and then he went into details of the encounter with Royston, speaking of the refusal of the man to properly identify himself to the paying teller.

"That would be just like him," said Mr. Bullard. "Now I want to warn you and your friends to have nothing to do with him."

"What sort of a man is he?" asked Frank.

"He poses as a promoter of theatrical and other amusement enterprises," replied Mr. Bullard, "but nearly all of them have been of questionable character. The government is after him now on suspicions of using the United States mails to defraud—selling stock in fake amusement places is one of his specialties.

"I have been assigned to work up a case against him, but, so far, I have not succeeded very well. But I am not giving up.

"As I said, I don't know your affairs, nor what your business is, but I do know about Royston."

"We're in motion picture enterprises," volunteered Frank.

"Ah, that accounts for it!" exclaimed Mr. Bullard. "He had——"

At that moment, around the curved passage that led to the smoking compartment, came Royston himself. He glanced sharply at Frank and the Secret Service man.

## CHAPTER VII

### AT THE FAIR

"No good, eh?" exclaimed the suspected man in a voice that made Frank fear at least part of the conversation had been overheard. "No good!" and the man looked fiercely from his little blood-shot eyes.

"We—er—that is, my friend and I were discussing——" began Mr. Bullard, and Frank was wondering whether his new friend would dare to admit the truth.

"I know what you are discussing!" exclaimed Royston, with an air of fierceness. "You don't need to tell me!"

"We certainly are in for a row!" thought Frank. "And if I'm any judge of this man, by past performances, he'll come to a personal encounter."

Frank glanced at the government agent, and was glad to note that, in spite of his rather small size, and notwithstanding that he was of a quiet nature, he looked fully capable of taking care of himself. As for Royston, while big and burly, he seemed to be "short-winded," an almost fatal defect when it comes to athletic matters.

"Yes, indeed, I know what you were talking about!" exclaimed the suspect, and his voice was harsh. "It's the dining service on this train! It's the worst I ever struck, and I've gone back and forth across the continent a number of times. But this is the worst ever! I don't blame you for saying he's no good—the man in charge. I've told him so myself, and I'll tell him so again! I'm glad you agree with me!"

Both Frank and Mr. Bullard could not refrain from giving each other glances of relief. It was so different from what they feared. Royston had heard part of their talk, but he had assumed it to be in line with his own thoughts, and it was just as well. It had been a lucky escape for Frank and his new friend.

"Bah! Never saw such meals! Never!" went on Royston, making a wry face. "It's a shame and disgrace to the railway interests of the United States. If I wasn't in such a hurry I'd take another line, though that might be as bad. I'm anxious to get to 'Frisco. I understand you are interested in motion pictures," he went on to Frank, and all trace of annoyance seemed to have vanished from his manner. In fact, he was friendly, or he had the appearance of so being. If he held any hard feelings against Frank for the encounter in the bank, they were forgotten, or laid aside, for the time being.

"Yes, I am interested in motion pictures," admitted the young man.

"I'm in somewhat the same line, only on a bigger scale," boasted the red-faced man, and Frank could not help thinking how much he looked like an important turkey gobbler, from the manner in which he puffed himself out.

"I hear you have a number of theatres," went on Royston, "and it may be that I can throw some business in your way—trade that is too small for me to bother with," he added with an important air.

Frank was wondering where the man had heard about him and his business affairs. The young man rather resented the manner in which the other behaved toward him.

"However, we'll discuss that later," went on Royston, as though the whole matter was in his hands. "I'm going to think of other affairs now. Perhaps you gentlemen will join me in a cigar," he added, holding out a case filled with dark Havanas, and waving his hand toward the smoking compartment.

"I don't use them," said Frank, with as friendly a smile as he could muster, "but don't let me keep you," he added to Mr. Bullard.

"Yes, I don't mind having a smoke," agreed the government man, with a look at Frank which the latter well understood.

"I'll go and join my friends," Frank said, and he started back to his coach, leaving the two men together.

"That was a lucky escape," murmured the young man to himself as he passed out of sight. "I thought sure he had heard us talking about him. Well, this may give Mr. Bullard the very chance he wants to get a line on this fellow. I don't like his being so friendly, though. I wonder who has been talking about our business?"

Frank learned, a little later, when he went back to his friends.

"That red-faced, colliding man of yours was here a while ago," volunteered Pep.

"Oh, you mean Royston?" said Frank.

"Yes, and say, I guess I put a flea in his ear all right," and the quick-tempered youth chuckled.

"A flea in his ear?" questioned Frank.

"Yes. He was doing a lot of talking about motion pictures, saying what a back number they were becoming, and how other amusement things were crowding them off the boards. I guess he didn't know we were in that line, but he soon found out."

"Then you told him?" asked Frank, now guessing where Royston had received his information.

"Of course I told him!" exclaimed Pep. "I let him know what a business we had built up in motion pictures, and that it wasn't a back number by any means. I said you were one of the best-informed fellows in the country on the subject, and when I let him know how many places we had in operation he rather opened his eyes."

"Oh, so you told him all that?" asked Frank, quietly.

"Sure!" exclaimed Pep. "Why, wasn't it all right?" he asked, for something in Frank's voice made his chum glance up quickly.

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose so," was the reply. "He'd have found out, sooner or later, anyhow."

"Say now! Look here!" cried Pep. "I haven't gone and put my foot in it; have I?"

"Oh, no, indeed," Frank hastened to assure him. "It's all right. Only I was wondering where Royston got his information."

"Didn't you want him to have it?" Pep's voice was anxious now, for he and Randy depended a great deal on their older chum.

"Really it doesn't make a bit of difference," Frank said, earnestly, and he realized that he must convince Pep of this, or there might ensue complications he could not foresee. He did not want his chums to know too much, just yet, about the character of Royston. It might spoil Mr. Bullard's chances.

"Oh, I was afraid I had done something wrong," said Pep, with an air of relief. "But this fellow—Royston, you say his name is—he was quite interested. He's going out to the Zone, too."

"I hope you didn't tell him we were looking for a concession there!" exclaimed Frank, and this time there was genuine alarm in his tones.

"No, indeed, I didn't; did I, Randy?" appealed Pep.

"No, we fought shy of that, though I think he tried to get information out of us," spoke the other chum.

"Oh, I'm foxy enough for that," went on Pep, with a laugh. "I haven't forgotten the airdrome business."

He referred to an incident that occurred some time previous, when they had planned to open a certain moving picture place, and Pep, in his inexperience, had boasted of their proposed plans. The result was that some rivals heard of it, and, as they had not clinched the bargain, the place was rented to their rivals over their heads, causing them considerable trouble. Pep was to blame for that, and it taught him a lesson.

"Don't talk of our plans," cautioned Frank. "What Royston doesn't know about us won't harm him, or us. He knows we are interested in motion pictures, and that we are going to San Francisco. He may guess that we want to open at the fair, but let it be only a guess. Steer clear of him if he tries to get any more information out of you."

"Do you think he will?" asked Randy.

"There's no telling," Frank replied.

During the remainder of the railroad trip the boys saw comparatively little of Royston. Between him and Mr. Bullard there seemed to have sprung up a sort of friendship, which, Frank assumed, was, on the part of the government man, at least, maintained for purposes of his own. But Frank was only too glad that Royston did not try to get information from himself and his chums.

The trip across the continent was without incident worth chronicling save that they were somewhat delayed by a freight wreck. But finally their train pulled into Oakland which is just across the bay from the wonderful city of San Francisco. To reach the latter place it is necessary to take a ferry, and this our friends proceeded to do.

"Look me up, boys. I'll be at this hotel," and Royston with his blustering manner, intended for hearty good-nature, thrust into Frank's hand a card with the name of a certain "sporty" hotel on it. "I'll see you later," Royston called to Mr. Bullard, who had walked with the boys, leaving the suspected man to look after his baggage.

"Yes, I think you will see me later," murmured the Secret Service agent.

It was early morning when the train arrived in Oakland, and waiting only to get a light breakfast and to see that their baggage would be safely transported after them, the boys, saying goodbye to Mr. Bullard, and promising to look him up later, went down to the ferry. They looked with interest at the various sights, new to them, glancing at Goat Island, as they passed it and headed for the ferry slip, near the dock of the Southern Pacific Railway.

A little later they were out on busy Market Street, with the hum and roar of a great city all about them. But they were used to New York, and it did not seem at all strange to them. Only the climate was different.

"Well, what's the game, Frank?" asked Pep, as they stood looking about.

"Get to a hotel, and then start for the fair grounds," was the answer. "We can't arrange about space any too soon."

"That's what I say!" exclaimed Hank. "We don't want to get left."

"And you won't forget about the organ; will you?" asked Ben Jolly.

"No, indeed," promised Frank. "You shall have that, Ben."

The boys had the address of a small hotel hear Lafayette Square which they thought would suit their needs. And it would not be far from the exposition grounds. There was a street car line which went down Fillmore Street, directly into the Zone concessions, where they hoped to establish themselves.

And soon after registering at the hotel and sending for their luggage, the boys took a car for the fair grounds. They were filled with wonder when they reached them, even though the place was not yet open, nor finished. And as they saw so many objects of interest, and as their sensations were so varied, I think I can do no better than to begin a new chapter with them.

## CHAPTER VIII

### A GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT

Probably many of you will go, or have already gone, to the Panama-Pacific International Exposition, which is the official name for what is commonly called the Panama Fair, and I shall often refer to it that way myself. Those of you who have seen the fair will, therefore, recognize much of what is described in this book.

"Say, this certainly is great!" cried Pep, with sparkling eyes, as he glanced about, once they were inside the exposition grounds. They had to obtain a pass, as the place was not yet open to the public, but as possible concessionnaires in the Zone they found no trouble in being admitted. "It's great—immense—stupendous—wonderful! It's—it's——"

"Hold on, Pep!" cried Frank. "Save a few of those big words."

"Yes," agreed Randy with a smile. "You haven't begun to see it yet, Pep."

"That's right!" chimed in Hank Strapp. "This is the biggest thing of its kind that ever happened. It's like the West—it's big—we have to have room to spread ourselves out here, boys. It sure is great!"

To hear him talk, and look at his honest, enthusiastic face, you would have thought that Strapp himself had had a great deal to do with the success of the venture. But that was only his way.

The boys, with Strapp and Ben, had gone in through the Fillmore Street entrance. Directly to their left began that part of the grounds given over to amusement enterprises, with the broad highway, called the Zone, which gave its name to the active division, running through it. The structure for the great scenic railway was the first object that met the eyes of the boys, but they were not greatly interested in that, having seen a number, though this was destined to excel most of them. But it was not yet finished.

On the left was Festival Hall, with its beautiful grounds, on which men were still working, and then before the boys and their friends stretched out the Avenue of Progress, with the Machinery Palace on the right, and the group of buildings about the Court of the Universe as a center, on their left. Those latter buildings would, later, house the exhibits of varied industries, mines and metallurgy, transportation, manufactures, liberal arts, agriculture, food products and education and economy.

"I wonder if they'll have any motion picture machines on exhibition?" spoke Randy, for he was much interested in the mechanical end of their business.

"Oh, there'll be sure to be plenty of those," Frank said. "Now what shall we do?"

"Look about a bit," proposed Pep. "This is the greatest place I ever struck!"

"But don't linger too long," advised Hank. "If we're going to get a concession we'd better look lively. A whole lot depends on getting a good place, especially for motion pictures. We don't want to get left."

"No, indeed," agreed Frank, "not after the way we hustled out here."

"But we can look about a little," suggested Ben Jolly. "I want to see if they have any small pipe organs we can arrange to install. A pipe organ is what we want to bring out the full effect of our pictures."

"A pipe organ it shall be!" promised Frank, laughing.

A brief description of the Panama Fair may not be out of place here. The grounds are along the north side of the city, extending for over two miles, facing Alcatraz Island, the harbor and Golden Gate channel, and they are from a quarter to half a mile wide, the entire exhibit being within the corporate limits of the city. I will not weary you with details and dull figures, but I might say that the Zone, or amusement concession, covers sixty-three acres, and when you consider that a ten-acre field is quite a stretch of land, you can imagine what one six times as large would be. In all, the fair covers 635 acres, and adjoining it is the Presido government reservation of over 1,500 acres, which Uncle Sam generously opens to the visitors to the great fair, so that they have an almost unlimited "playground."

All about them the boys saw beautiful buildings, arches of triumph and progress, groups of statuary, fountains, and gardens in which grew flowers of all the rainbow hues. The place was a riot of color by day, and would be more so by night, for great electric lights and colored fountains would add their beauty to the splendid scene.

The boys were greatly interested in the ten-acre tract of the United States Government exhibit, and drill ground.

"Oh, would you look at that!" cried Pep, when they had drawn near. "Isn't that great!"

"It certainly is!" agreed his chums. What Pep referred to was a 500-foot model, perfect in every detail, of the Panama Canal. On the miniature waterway floated vessels which gave a perfect representation of crossing from ocean to ocean, Gatun Dam, Culebra Cut, the locks and all their complicated machinery being shown perfectly, and with all the electrical and lighting effects that go to make the Panama Canal the most wonderful piece of engineering work in the world.

"Say, I could stay here all day!" cried Pep, as he watched workmen putting the finishing touches on the miniature waterway.

"But we can't," declared Frank. "We have no end of things to attend to, and not a great deal of time to do it in."

"That's right," chimed in Hank Strapp. "We don't want to get left."

Leaving, rather reluctantly it must be confessed, the wonderful model of the canal, our friends made their way to the Zone once more. They had made inquiries, and learned that the manager who had charge of allotting the concessions would be in his office in about an hour.

The Van Ness Avenue entrance, nearest the city proper, was made on an exact plan of the Gatun Spillway at Panama, and from there the Zone extended over half a mile to the Avenue of Progress, into which Frank and his chums turned again. At night the plaza would be aglow with a myriad of brilliantly colored lights, but now the colors of the various amusement buildings gave a wonderful effect. And the variety of amusements astounded the boys.

"I didn't think there could be so many ways of taking money from the public," confessed Randy.

"Oh, we know how to do things out West!" broke in Hank Strapp. "We don't have to be shown, whether it is taking money out of the ground, or from strangers. Though I will allow," he said, with a faint smile, "that we don't aim to do anything unfair, and we'll give a dollar in value every time."

"I believe you," agreed Pep. Certainly Hank Strapp of Montana had assayed true value every time.

From candy kitchens and quick-lunch restaurants, to great caverns and caves, reproductions of some of the most famous in the United States; from miniature mountains to geysers, waterfalls and canyons ran the gamut of exhibitions. There was a "toyland grown up," castles, giants' caves, a Mother Hubbard's cupboard big enough to hold a small village, merry-go-'rounds of the most up-to-date type, nerve-racking devices—in short, so much that the boys could only get a general idea of it.

"But I don't see any moving picture places starting," observed Frank with some satisfaction, as they went on toward the office of the manager. "And that sure pleases me, for I was afraid we'd be up against competition."

"Maybe we will be—later," suggested Pep.

"Well, if we get in on the ground floor we can't complain," was Frank's answer. "I wonder if that chap is in now?"

As they strolled along the Zone, Randy, who was walking a little in the rear of Frank, called to his chum.

"What is it?" Frank asked.

"That man," replied Randy in a low tone. "Over there by that candy kitchen. Isn't he the one we met on the train?"

"You mean the Secret——" began Frank, and then he stopped, for he reflected that his chums did not know Mr. Bullard to be one of Uncle Sam's secret agents.

"I don't think there's much secret about him!" broke in Randy, with a laugh. "He blurts out everything he knows, or thinks of. I mean the red-faced chap who——"

"Oh, him—Royston!" interrupted Frank, with an air of relief. He was glad he had not spoken what was in his mind, and relieved to find that the Secret Service man was not present, though it was not without a feeling of uneasiness that Frank learned his uncouth acquaintance of the train and bank was present on the grounds.

"Yes, that is he," Frank said, after a hasty look. "I suppose he is looking after some amusement here."

Royston glanced up in time to observe the boys, but he did not come toward them, greatly to Frank's relief. In fact, Royston seemed to have other business, and to be in a hurry, for, with a wave of his hand to our friends, he made off in an opposite direction.

Frank breathed in relief, and a little later he and his chums were ushered into the office of the director of the Zone.

"Well, this is quite a delegation," was the greeting of the gentleman in charge of the big amusement concession. "Is it a party of protest?" he asked, as he directed that chairs be placed for Frank and his friends.

"You must be used to receiving such," remarked Ben Jolly.

"I am—more to my sorrow. Everyone who comes in here lately seems to have some objection to make. I declare it's a hard matter to please so many. But what can I do for you? You don't look as though you had trouble on your minds."

"We haven't," Frank said. "Our only trouble is to get a good concession here."

"It depends on what sort you want," replied the director. "Of course you know it is rather late to apply for big space."

"We're not looking for such a big place," went on Frank, who had been selected to do the talking for the delegation. "We want to open a motion picture theatre, and show some of the more important films—big plays, you know, well-known actors and all that. Can we engage such space here in the Zone?"

"Motion pictures, eh?" murmured the director. "Well now, that's too bad."

"Too bad!" exclaimed Frank, scenting disappointment in the man's voice.

"Yes. You are just too late. The last available concession that could have been used for motion pictures has been given out. I haven't a place left that would suit. All the good spots are gone, and I know you wouldn't want a second-rate one, for you'd fail inside of two weeks. I am sorry, but you are too late!"

## CHAPTER IX

### TALKING IT OVER

The motion picture chums could not conceal the disappointment they felt on hearing the words of the director. They had realized they might not be in time to get a place that would exactly suit them, but they had no idea they could get no place at all. It was a stunning blow.

"Well," spoke Frank, with a long-drawn sigh, "that's too bad! Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all," repeated the director, slowly, as he leafed over some papers on his desk to make sure he had overlooked nothing.

"What about an open air place?" asked Mr. Strapp, still undaunted. "We've got a great climate out West here, boys, believe me! We wouldn't have to close up many times on account of rain; we sure wouldn't!"

Frank looked hopefully at the director. He personally did not favor an airdrome for the fair, but it might be better than nothing.

The director shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but we can't allot you any open air space either. Besides, with the many search, and other lights flashing about nights, you couldn't do much business. And you couldn't afford to run just at night, concession prices are too high. You're got to give a continuous performance."

"That's what I figured," Frank said. "But if we can't get a place here we can't—that's all there is about it."

"Is anyone who has a concession now likely to give it up?" asked Randy. "That sometimes happens; doesn't it?"

"Well, it isn't likely to here," the director replied. "You see, everyone is sure to make money, and, so far, we haven't had any withdrawals, though of course there may be some later. If you like to wait, on that chance——"

"Hardly!" cried Pep impetuously. "We can't afford to do that. We have an option on some big films, and we've got to be sure we can show them. If we can't do it here, we'll have to look for some other place."

"It will be hard to find," the director went on.

"But we've just got to!" declared Pep, as though he could make a place where none existed.

"Then I guess I don't get that new organ to add to my effects," spoke Ben Jolly, in such a doleful voice that the others laughed.

"Are you an organist?" asked the director, quickly.

"A fair one," admitted Ben, modestly.

"We have an opening for a good organist," the manager of the Zone went on. "If you would like to take that, perhaps——"

"Is it in a moving picture place?" asked Ben, hopefully.

"No, it's in one of the educational exhibits."

"I wouldn't leave my friends," said Ben, loyally. "I guess I'll have to wait; that's all there is to it."

There seemed nothing more to do or say. With all their speed our friends had arrived too late to secure that most needed concession. Without it they could do nothing.

"Can't we buy someone out?" suggested Pep, eagerly. "We might try that—offer 'em more than they paid."

"You'd have trouble doing that," said the director, with a smile. "Of course if you offered enough someone would sell out, undoubtedly. But prices are so high now, just before the opening of the fair, that they would be prohibitory. That is, values are regarded as being so high that you would probably eat up a good share of your profits in paying someone for his concession. I wouldn't advise you to do that."

"But what can we do?" cried Pep. "We've just got to do something about it."

Frank nodded in confirmation. But what could they do?

"Come in and see me in a day or so," suggested the director. "I may be in a better position then to tell you something. Mind you," he said, quickly, "I don't hold out any hope. It's too late for that, but the unexpected sometimes happens. So come in again. I am glad to have met you, and I am sorry you were not in time. We need a good motion picture outfit here, and I wish you had the running of it. You have had experience; haven't you?"

"Well, I should say they had!" cried Hank Strapp, enthusiastically. "What they don't know about running motion picture exhibitions——"

"Don't make us blush!" broke in Pep, with a laugh.

"Well, I'll take your word for it," remarked the director. "Now I'll have to be excused, for I am very busy. But come in and see me again. I'll do all I can for you."

Still smarting under a sense of disappointment, but not altogether giving up hope, the chums went out of the office. They were, for the time being, no longer interested in the wonderful sights all around them.

"Well, what shall we do?" asked Randy, as they turned toward the Fillmore Street entrance.

No one answered for a moment. Then Pep said:

"Well, we've just got to go on; that's all. We've practically engaged those important films, and we stand to lose considerable if we don't use 'em. Couldn't we open a place in town? There must be some motion picture theatres for sale, even if they aren't in the Zone.

"Well, we could do that," agreed Frank, slowly. "But it wouldn't be at all what I'd like to see done. We started out to show pictures at the fair, and nothing short of that will satisfy me."

"Me either!" declared Randy.

"And I'm with you, too; believe me!" put in the Westerner. "And when Hank Strapp, from Butte, Montana, says a thing he means it!"

The boys well knew this.

"Let's take a look around town," suggested Ben Jolly. "Maybe we can find something that will do." But there was not much enthusiasm in his voice, nor in the assents of the others.

"Something that will just 'do,' isn't what we want," said Frank. "The best motion picture playhouse in the city wouldn't be half as good as one at the fair. Besides we want these great films of ours exhibited at the grounds."

"Well, if we can't—we can't," spoke Randy. He was more easily discouraged than either of his chums.

"There isn't any such word as can't," declared Pep, bravely. "Frank, it's up to us to find a way."

Frank was glad his chum looked on the matter in that light. But with all his hopefulness, and he had not a small quantity, he did not see how they were going to succeed.

They talked it over as they walked back to their hotel, and, as they strolled along, for they were in no hurry, they looked about them, on the chance of finding some solution of their perplexing problem.

San Francisco, reconstructed after the fire and earthquake, is a wonderful city, well worth a tourist's attention. But it is doubtful if the boys really appreciated it just then.

"We'd better send back some word to the managers of our different places," suggested Mr. Strapp, "telling them our address here, so they can communicate with us if they want to."

"Good idea," said Pep, as he paused in front of a motion picture house and looked about observingly.

"Thinking of taking that one?" asked Randy.

"No, indeed," was the answer. "That isn't my style."

The place was a fourth-rate one, but outside was an advertisement of some films the boys had used months before. They had evidently just reached the West.

Back in their hotel our friends discussed the matter from all standpoints, but they seemed to come back in a circle to the starting place; which was that they did not want to have a motion picture theatre at any place but on the fair grounds proper.

"If we want to run one in town we can just as well go back to New York, and open another place," said Randy. "What we want is the big crowds that will come to the exposition."

The others agreed with him. They were deep in a discussion of whether there was any chance, and were planning what to do in case they had to go back, when a tap sounded on their sitting-room door, for they had connecting rooms.

"Who's there?" Randy asked.

"Bellboy," was the answer. "There's a gentleman downstairs who wants to see you."

"Who is he?" asked Pep.

"Mr. Bullard," came in reply.

Frank looked at his chums in some alarm. Had there been new developments in regard to Royston?

## CHAPTER X

### AT THE CLIFF HOUSE

"Well, why don't you ask him up?" inquired Pep, after a moment of silence. "He's that quiet man we met on the train; isn't he?"

"Yes," replied Frank, his mind busy with many thoughts.

"Then have him up," added Hank Strapp. "This isn't any way to be hospitable. We Westerners don't act that way. Tell him to come up, boy!" he called to the messenger.

"Oh, sure, have him up by all means," assented Frank. "I wasn't thinking about it, I guess."

"Too much upset over not getting that concession?" asked Randy.

"Some—yes," admitted Frank.

But, all the while, he was wondering what Mr. Bullard could want of them. Frank felt sure it was something to do with Royston, and he was not disappointed.

"I must apologize for bothering you," began Mr. Bullard, when he had greeted the friends, "but I need some help, and I don't know to whom else to appeal in this instance."

"If you're short of money," began Mr. Strapp, generously, thrusting his hand into his pocket, "why, say the word and——"

"No, it isn't money," replied Mr. Bullard, with a smile, and a meaning look at Frank. "I can get all that I need."

"You're lucky," observed Pep.

"Have you told them who I am?" asked the government man with a quick look at Frank. The latter shook his head.

"What's this—more mystery?" inquired Pep. "Have we run up against trouble out here, too?"

"Oh, this hasn't anything to do with us," spoke Frank, little realizing how soon he and his friends were to be concerned with it, and what a complication was to ensue. "I didn't tell you, because there wasn't any need of it, and because he wanted to keep it quiet, but Mr. Bullard is a government Secret Service man."

"Whew!" whistled Pep. "So that's what's in the wind. Well, I don't know that he can arrest me for anything," he added with a laugh.

Hank Strapp looked at Ben Jolly, and both gazed rather reproachfully at Frank. The latter felt the implied rebuke, and hastened to say:

"It wasn't my secret, so I couldn't let it out. But I guess the time has now come," and he looked at Mr. Bullard for confirmation.

"Yes, there's no harm now in telling your friends who I am," said the agent. "And I need your help. I think I am getting Royston where I want him, but I have to drop out of matters for a time, and I need someone to keep him in sight. I thought of asking you to do it, as you can perhaps succeed better than any of my fellow agents."

"Royston!" cried Pep. "Has he been up to some tricks? What are you, anyhow—a detective?" he asked, his eyes shining with elation.

"Something like that, you might say," replied the Secret Service man, smiling.

Explanations followed, and Frank was reproached by his chums for keeping back the secret, though the chaffing was only in fun.

"I wondered why Royston was getting so friendly with us, especially after the experience he had with you in the bank," said Randy to Frank. "Now I understand."

"I was afraid you fellows would tell him too much of our business," Frank responded, "but I didn't want to warn you against him, or tell you Mr. Bullard was after him, for fear you'd act so oddly that he would suspect something."

"I think he is entirely without suspicion, so far," put in the government agent. "And I want to keep him so. But there have been developments since coming to San Francisco that make me believe he is trying to work some big swindle. I'd like to get evidence enough against him to convict him, but it isn't going to be easy."

Thereupon he told the boys more details of the nature of the illegal business of which Royston was at the bottom. The man, as I intimated, made a specialty of organizing and exploiting questionable enterprises. Some of these were pure "fakes," intended only to swindle the public. Others were illegal in themselves, and were only a cloak for real thieving operations.

But the man was "slick," as Hank Strapp expressed it, and, so far, had succeeded in escaping arrest, though the government had been after him a number of times. He always got away in time, or so changed the nature of his enterprises as to come within the strict letter of the law.

"But now," said Mr. Bullard, in telling the story, "he is planning something big. The trouble is, though, that I am afraid he suspects me. I have been getting a little too friendly with him, in the hope of getting evidence against him, and now he begins to draw back.

"That is just what I don't want him to do. If he escapes me now I may never land him again. Of course I could turn the matter over to another Secret Service man, but I don't like to do that after I have been on the case so long, and have followed him across the continent. I had much rather finish it, now that I have begun, and I think I can do it, with your help."

"Then you can count on us!" cried the Westerner, with bluff heartiness. "We're with you until the cows come home, and when Hank Strapp, that's me, from Butte, Montana—when Hank Strapp says that, he means it. Put her there, pardner!" and he held out a big hand, which Mr. Bullard grasped.

"Oh! That's enough!" cried the government man, as he felt his fingers crushed in a hearty grip. "I'll take your word for the rest of it, Mr. Strapp."

"Pshaw now! I sure didn't mean to hurt you," apologized Hank. "But I've got feelings, I have."

"So have I!" said Mr. Bullard, with a wry face, as he looked at his numb fingers.

"I mean I feel friendly toward you," explained the Westerner.

"I appreciate it," responded the agent. "No more demonstrations needed," and he laughed. "But I am glad you will help me. It means I can still keep control of the case."

"Of course we'll help," said Randy. His chums nodded their assents. Ben Jolly nodded his head to signify that he, too, would be with his friends.

"But I hope it doesn't interfere with getting my new pipe organ," he said with a sigh. "I really ought to be getting some practice, for I haven't touched an organ since we left New York. Though if we're not to have a concession at the fair I don't see much use of getting ready."

"What's that!" exclaimed Mr. Bullard. "Can't you carry out your plans for opening a motion picture theatre here?"

"Not as we intended," explained Randy. "The best places, in fact the only places, where we could open such a place in the Zone are gone. We don't know what to do. But don't let us inflict our troubles on you. How can we help you?"

"That's too bad," said Mr. Bullard, sympathetically. "Perhaps I may be able to suggest a way out. I don't like to blow my own horn, but I have quite a few friends in the government service, and you know the government is doing a lot toward this exposition. I will take up that matter for you."

"If you will, it will help a whole lot!" cried Pep, with eager enthusiasm. "But now let's hear what we can do for you."

Mr. Bullard then explained matters. It is not necessary, at this time, to go into details, which will be developed as the story progresses. Sufficient to say that Mr. Bullard had gotten on the track of some illegal operations planned by Royston, but the agent was not in a position to further follow his man.

"So I'm going to depend on you new friends of mine," he said, nodding at the motion picture chums.

"We'll do all we can for you," promised Hank Strapp. "I wish I had my old lasso, and my forty-five——"

"I'm hoping it will not come to violent measures," said Mr. Bullard, with a smile. "I like peaceful means so far as they can be used."

"Let Ben Jolly play him to sleep with a tune on the pipe organ and then arrest him," suggested Pep with a laugh.

"No, I don't want him to go to sleep," objected Mr. Bullard. "I want to get him in the very act—'with the goods,' as you boys say. And I think I will, with your help. It is very good of you to offer."

Then he went into more details, which the boys carefully memorized. For they did not want to put down anything on paper. In fact, Mr. Bullard advised them against this.

"You can't tell what may become of a piece of paper," he said. "We have often gotten evidence from the ashes of burned papers, and tearing up documents is only making a little more trouble for whoever wants to piece them together, and decipher their contents. Your memory is the best document in the world, if it is properly trained."

The immediate matter in hand was this: that Royston was about to take up his quarters at the historic Cliff House, where, so the agent suspected, he was going to plan for one of the biggest swindles of his career.

"And I'll need someone at the Cliff House on whom I can depend," the Secret Service man resumed, "and who will understand how to play the game. I know it's asking a good deal of you for some of you to go there to get evidence, and I'd go myself, only, as soon as I make my appearance there, Royston will be sure to suspect, I am afraid."

"We'll manage it, somehow," promised Mr. Strapp. "We intended to spend some time there, anyhow, so it will not interfere with our plans. Now as to details."

These were arranged, and it was agreed that Frank and Pep should pay a preliminary visit to the Cliff House the next day.

Mr. Bullard then left, after thanking the boys for their help. He also promised to do what he could in the matter of getting them a place at the fair.

"Though how he is going to do it, when there aren't any places left in the Zone, is more than I can understand," said Randy.

"Leave it to him," advised Mr. Strapp.

The remainder of the day was spent in talking over plans, and in paying a visit to other fair officials, in an endeavor to devise some means of running a motion picture show. But nothing could be done, and the only chance the boys saw ahead of them was in opening one in San Francisco proper, which they did not want to do.

Frank and Pep made an early start for the Cliff House the next morning, and as what happened there requires telling rather in detail, I will devote a new chapter to it.

## CHAPTER XI

### THE LONELY LAD

The Cliff House, and the Seal Rocks, not far from that hotel, form a sight that thousands of visitors to San Francisco visit annually. In addition to a fine beach, the beauty of which is added to by long periods of exceptionally fine weather, there are the seals, and the historic associations about the place. Animal life always has an attraction, and when it is free, wild and unhampered, as it is at Seal Rocks, it is doubly interesting.

So Frank and Pep thought as they strolled along the beach, on which were many pleasure seekers and bathers.

"Say, this is sure some place," observed Frank. "It beats Coney Island."

"It certainly does," agreed Pep. "Say, a motion picture show would be fine here."

"I don't believe it would pay," returned Frank, with a laugh. "There are too many attractions outside—folks would not come inside."

"And look at the seals!" exclaimed Pep, pointing to the sleek, barking animals as they climbed out on the rocks to sun themselves, now and then slipping into the water with wonderful grace, to swim off like patches of brown light.

Cliff House was set on a rocky promontory, against the foot of which the Pacific beats with restless energy. A little way beyond the hotel, to the west, are the group of rocks, large and small, to which the seals have given their name. If you have ever been fortunate enough to see Cliff House, you will probably remember the sorrow and horror that swept over the whole country when it was rumored that it was destroyed, and had fallen into the sea, during the great San Francisco earthquake. But such, fortunately, was not the case.

"Feel like going in for a swim?" asked Pep of his chum.

"Maybe, a little later," agreed Frank. "But first we'd better do what we have to do; that is go up to the hotel and see how the land lies. You know we're supposed to put up there for a few days, until we see how Royston pans out."

"All right—then the bath can wait," agreed Pep. "But that water sure does look good."

It was indeed a pleasant scene on which the boys gazed. All about them everyone seemed bent only on pleasure. They strolled up the beach, and nearer to the rocks. It was low tide and the group of great stones was exposed for a large part of their surface. The seals could be seen all over them.

"That would make a fine moving picture," said Frank.

"Yes, and if we could only get space at the fair it might pay us to have one made," retorted his chum.

"It's worth making a note of," went on Frank, and so that he might not forget it he jotted down the item in the memorandum book he always carried.

It was the plan of the two chums to put up at the Cliff House for a day or so, since their observations of Royston, should he come there as he intended, would take some little time to complete. They had ready a plausible story if he should ask their reason for stopping at that well-known resort.

A little later Frank and Pep sat in the double room they had engaged, and their baggage had been sent for. It was really putting them out quite a little to transfer from their first stopping place to this one, for they had to bring their luggage with them, not only to avoid the necessity of paying in advance, but to make it appear that they were genuine guests. But, as Frank said, they were willing to do more than this to oblige Mr. Bullard.

"Well, what's next?" asked Pep, as he surveyed his chum.

"Make some inquiries, I think," was the answer. "It won't do to be too bold about it, though, but we want to get on the trail of Royston as soon as possible. If we begin to nose about too openly, asking the clerk if Royston is here, or looking at the register, we'll be talked about. We've just got to keep our eyes open."

"That's right," agreed Pep. "Well, let's start."

In their guise as transient guests of the hotel they had donned other suits of clothes than those in which they had arrived, and strolled out into the main corridor. They found many men and women there, but, though they looked, they got no sight of Royston.

"I'd just like a glimpse at the register," said Pep in a low voice to Frank, as he glanced toward the hotel clerk's desk.

"It wouldn't be safe," argued his chum.

There was enough going on in and about the hotel so that Frank and Pep did not feel lonesome. Many tourists and guests had been attracted to California by the prospective opening of the big fair, and the sight of them, strolling about, bent on business, pleasure or amusement, made it interesting for Frank and his chum.

But the two young men had other matters to occupy their minds than merely looking on. The role of spectator was not suited to them. They were used to doing things and they fretted when they were not actively engaged. But, in the present instance all they could do was to await the appearance of Royston. All depended on him.

It was not until the second day of their stay that anything happened. Meanwhile Frank and Pep had done their best to pretend they were enjoying themselves. They saw all the sights worth seeing about the hotel, they went often to Seal Rocks, they delighted in the bathing and strolled along the beautiful beach.

They also went out to Lincoln Park, and spent some time at Fort Miley, on the United States Military Reservation. But all the while they were fretting for action.

Then, one afternoon, as Pep came back from a bath, Frank not having gone with him, the impulsive lad fairly ran up to his chum, seated on the porch, and exclaimed:

"He's here!"

"Who?" asked Frank.

"Royston!"

"Hush! Not so loud!" cautioned Frank, looking about. "We're not supposed to be anxious to see him, remember. If we encounter him we are to pass it off as though we always intended to come here."

"All right," returned Pep.

"Where did you see him?" asked Frank, looking about to make sure the subject of their talk was not within sight or hearing.

"Down on the beach. He was walking along, talking to a man who was dressed as if he had plenty of money, though of course that's no sure sign. Look at Hank Strapp. He——"

"Never mind Mr. Strapp," said Frank, with a smile. "Did Royston see you?"

"I think not. I was just coming from the water, and you know you can't always recognize your best friend when he's in a bathing suit."

"That's right, and you didn't talk much with Royston, anyhow; did you?"

"Not as much as you. But he's here, all right."

"Then we'll get busy. I must send word to Mr. Bullard."

This Frank did. But to make sure the government agent's secret would not leak out over the telephone wire, Frank called him by an assumed name, and the message transmitted was seemingly an unimportant one. But it was in "code," and Mr. Bullard understood what was meant.

"Good!" he exclaimed, at the other end of the wire. "Now you know what to do."

"Yes, indeed," Frank assured him.

So when, a little later, Royston met the two chums in the hotel, though he was surprised to see them they managed to act naturally on catching sight of him, which they might perhaps not have been able to do had they not known that he was there, and been prepared.

"Well, boys, what are you doing here?" the promoter wanted to know. "I thought you were going to be at the fair grounds."

"We'll be there later," said Frank, with a confidence he did not altogether feel. He only hoped he and his chums would be able to get a concession in the Zone.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, anyhow!" exclaimed Royston. "Come and have a smoke—Oh, I forgot, you don't indulge in the weed. Well, it may be a bad habit, but I'm too old to change now," and he pulled out a black cigar.

Whatever his object was, clearly it did not include, at this time at least, antagonizing Frank and his chum. Royston's former grouchy temper, and his meanness, seemed to have disappeared. He was hardly the same man who had collided with Frank in the bank, and who had so vented his anger on the young man.

"I have a little business to attend to," went on Royston, "and after that I'd like to entertain you boys for a while. I've taken quite a notion to you. And do you know," he went on, in what was intended, doubtless, for a confidential whisper, "these native sons of California are rather clannish. Now, I'm from little old New York, and you boys are the same. We ought to stick together."

"Yes?" spoke Frank, rather non-committally. Royston, he thought, would "stick together" as long as it suited his purposes and interests, and after that he would "flock by himself." But it was the aim of Frank and Pep to get as much information as possible from the suspected man, and to do that they must pretend to be friendly, however much they disliked the role.

Royston stood talking with them for a little while, and then, espying an acquaintance across the lobby, he left the chums, promising to see them later.

"Watch him," urged Frank to Pep in a whisper. "See who that man is he goes to, and what becomes of them. I'll have another talk with Mr. Bullard on the wire."

When Frank again sought his chum he found Pep seated on the balcony of the hotel, calmly reading a magazine.

"I thought you were after—him," said Frank, significantly, not mentioning any names.

"He's in bathing," Pep answered. "He and that fellow he walked out with have gone in for a dip. I can easily pick them up again."

"Well, then, let's go down to the beach ourselves," suggested Frank. "We might pick up some information."

A little later they had managed to reach a point where they could see Royston and his friend in the water. They waited about for some time, hoping the two might come out on the sands, and talk in such a situation that part of the conversation could be overheard.

But, as though Royston suspected his talk might be listened to, when he did come out of the surf, he and his friend walked apart, and sat under an umbrella, so that it would have been risky, if not impossible, for Frank or Pep to have approached within hearing distance.

Defeated thus in their first object, the youths strolled down the beach again. They were near the most shoreward of the Seal Rocks, which the low tide had left greatly exposed, when Frank drew Pep's attention to the figure of a boy seated out on a boulder, with his back to the beach.

"Why, he's got his clothes on!" exclaimed Pep, in surprise.

"Yes," agreed Frank. "But that's nothing."

"Nothing!" exclaimed Pep. "I should say it was! He went out there when the tide was low, and he could walk without getting wet. But now the tide is in, and he can't get ashore dry-shod. What's the matter with him?"

"That didn't strike me so much as the fact of the loneliness of the boy," said Frank. "Doesn't he seem rather sad, to you?"

"Well, as far as I can judge by the way he sits there, all humped over, and forlorn, he seems to have lost his last friend on earth," agreed Pep. "Is that what you mean?"

"That's it. He doesn't seem to care whether school keeps or not."

For a few minutes Frank and Pep stood looking at the lonely lad on the rock. Then Pep said:

"Frank, I have an idea."

"Get it patented; they're scarce," laughed his chum.

"It's about that boy," went on Pep, and Frank seemed rather surprised.

## CHAPTER XII

### QUEER ACTIONS

For a second or so Frank did not respond to the last words of Pep. Then, as the latter repeated them, Frank asked:

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I mean there's more in that boy's sitting out there alone on that rock, where he can't get ashore without getting wet—there's more in it than seems."

"In what way?"

"Are you game for a swim?" asked Pep, not exactly answering Frank's question.

"A swim? Weren't you in once to-day?"

"Yes, but I can stand another. Do you see my game?"

"Well, not exactly," was the answer. Frank looked around and saw that Royston and his friend were still under the sun umbrella.

"Then it isn't about them?" Frank asked, nodding toward the two men.

"No, it's about him," and Pep pointed to the lonely lad on the rock.

"Him?" cried Frank, and his voice showed his surprise.

"If we swim out, we can get a look at his face," went on Pep, "and I don't mind admitting that I should like to see it. I'm interested in that chap."

"So am I," confessed his chum. "He didn't go out there at low tide, without a bathing suit on, and stay out until he is entirely surrounded by water, like some Robinson Crusoe island, for nothing. Come on, we'll go in."

A little later Frank and Pep, attired in bathing suits, were making their way out toward the rock where sat the lonely lad. The water between his perch and the shore was not deep enough for swimming, so Frank and Pep had to wade out to the boulder. Beyond them the sea broke in lazy, white swells, and, farther out, the seals barked as they clambered up on the rocks, and splashed back into the ocean again.

"Don't appear to take any notice of him," urged Pep, who seemed to have undertaken the management of this little expedition.

"All right," answered Frank. "I'll leave it all to you."

Without appearing to do so they made their way by degrees close to the rock on which sat the boy. He had not turned around, nor changed his position, but sat there most dejectedly.

Finally the two chums were in a position where they could turn and look at the boy. And the sight of his face startled them both. For if ever there was hopeless misery and despair written on a human countenance it was on that boy's.

For a moment or two he did not seem aware of the scrutiny of the two chums. He remained, staring off into vacancy, looking across the vast reaches of the heaving Pacific, as Balboa might have looked across its wide waters when first he set eyes on its wonders.

At the boy's feet little, splashing waves broke. The tide was rising fast now, but he did not seem to mind. He just looked off across the water, as though his thoughts were far away.

"Did you notice him?" asked Pep of Frank, as they moved slowly along together.

"Did I? Well, I should say I did! If that chap isn't in a bad way I miss my guess!"

"Keep watch of him," advised Pep.

"What for?" Frank wanted to know. "We can't pick him up and make him wade ashore; can we?"

"Not exactly."

"And if he wants to stay out here on a rock, admiring the scenery, and get his feet wet wading ashore, that isn't any of our affair; is it, Pep?"

"Well, perhaps not, if you put it that way. But I have a notion that something else is in the wind."

"What?"

"I'll not mention it. Just keep watch and see what happens."

By this time the two chums were in front of the rock on which the boy sat. A wave, larger than any others that had preceded it, came rolling in, and, as bathers will often do, Frank and Pep turned their backs toward it to keep the water from their faces. This brought them so that they were facing the strange lad, whose sadness had so impressed them.

The boy caught their glance, and quickly turned his head away. At the same moment the wave reached him. It was large enough to wash almost completely over the rock, and the lad was made quite wet. But he did not seem to mind.

"That's funny," murmured Frank. "I mean, it's odd, though there is very little humor in it. I wonder if that chap's crazy?"

Somehow or other Frank's mind went back to the days in New York preceding their trip to San Francisco. He recalled the time he had applied that same expression, of "crazy," to the man who had almost rushed in the path of the automobile on Broadway.

"Something's wrong, that's sure," declared Pep. "I've almost a notion to speak to him."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that. We might be told to mind our own affairs, or something like that. And you know how that would make you feel."

"Yes, pretty cheap," admitted his chum.

"And, maybe after all, it's a joke," went on Frank.

"A joke!" cried Pep. They had started to wade forward again, and were out of earshot of the queer youth. "What do you mean, Frank?"

"Maybe he's trying to see how long he can stay there just for a wager, you know. Some college freshman stunt, you know."

"Not this time of year," was Pep's rejoinder. "My idea is, and I might as well tell you, that this lad——Look out! There he goes!" and Pep, hastily interrupting himself, made a rush back toward the water-surrounded rock and its lonely occupant.

"What's up?" cried Frank, but he need not have asked, for he saw for himself.

Without a word Frank started to follow his chum.

What Frank saw, and what Pep had seen, that caused him to cry out so, was the sight of the youth standing up on the rock, and then deliberately taking a position which indicated that he intended to jump into the water.

"Hold on!" cried Pep. "Don't do it! I'll be there in a moment!"

"Why, he's trying to commit suicide!" exclaimed Frank.

Pep neither objected to, nor agreed with this statement. He ran forward as fast as he could in the water, no easy task as any of you know, who have tried, and, splashing the salty spray all about him, Pep reached the rock in time to grasp the youth in his arms.

"Hold on!" cried Pep. "Don't do it! You're too young for that yet. Hold on!"

The youth did not argue. He simply struggled against Pep's hold and tried to get closer to the lapping water, as it splashed about the rock.

"Come on, Frank!" cried his chum.

In another instant the two had hold of the strange lad, who, after a moment's struggle, gave up limply, and looked at his two rescuers with sad eyes.

"I won't thank you," he said in dull, hopeless tones. "You might much better have let me go."

"Indeed we hadn't!" cried Pep. "Then you were going to make an end of yourself, eh? I guessed right!"

"It doesn't make any difference," was the answer. "I might as well admit the truth. I am tired of life."

"And at your age, too!" cried Frank, for the boy was even younger than he had thought at first; some years the junior of himself and Pep.

"Yes, I wish it were all over," was the hopeless rejoinder. "I haven't anything left to live for."

"Look here!" exclaimed Pep a bit roughly, as he half lifted, half shoved the boy higher up on the rock. "That's no way to talk!"

"Well, I mean it!"

"You think you do! You're in trouble, maybe. Well, we've been; haven't we, Frank?"

"I should say so; lots of times. But do you mean to say you came out on this rock, and waited for the water to get high enough so you could drown yourself?"

"That's about it—yes," and the voice was sullen. "I haven't anybody to care for me, and I haven't anyone to care for. I thought I might as well end it all. I didn't think I'd be interfered with out here, but when I saw you two fellows hanging around I thought I had better get it over with."

"I thought you had some such notion," Pep returned. "That's why I spoke to you about him, and why I kept my eyes on him," he went on to his chum.

"Now you look here!" Pep said sharply to the strange lad. "You want to give up all such foolishness. Now you don't want those folks back there to know you tried to drown yourself."

"Oh, I don't know what I want," was the almost sobbed reply. "No, of course I don't want them to know. They would only laugh, now that you have prevented me from doing it."

"No, they won't laugh, for they sha'n't know anything about it!" said Pep, grimly. "Frank, what shall we do?"

"Get him ashore, the first thing. After that we can decide best how to help him."

"You can't help me—no one can," said the lad. "It's too late. I wish you had let me—let me do it," he faltered.

"Nonsense!" cried Pep. "Now look here. You just be sensible. My chum and I will carry you to shore. You can pretend that you didn't see the tide rising, and were caught on the rock. We came out in our bathing suits and got you."

"Oh, don't bother with me!" begged the youth, miserably. "I'm not worth it."

## CHAPTER XIII

### A QUEER STORY

Whether he wanted to or not, the youth who had, as Pep and Frank both believed, been saved from a self-inflicted death, submitted himself to them, and allowed them to carry him to the beach.

"I don't want you to bother with me," he kept saying over and over again, on the little trip.

"Now that's all right," insisted Pep, in the masterful way he had. "You leave this to us, and you'll come out all right."

"Surely, yes," agreed Frank. "You tell us what's the matter, and perhaps we can help you."

"I'm afraid you can't," and the boy's voice was weak and miserable. "Mine is a strange story."

"Well, we've heard some pretty strange ones in the last two years," spoke Pep, "and it will take a pretty big story to scare us; eh, Frank?"

"That's right," agreed his chum.

By this time they had reached the beach, and set down their human burden. Several persons, who had been observing the lad out on the rock, crowded up, for the manner of Frank and Pep in bringing him ashore was novel, to say the least.

Frank observed the curiosity, and, in order that no embarrassing questions would be asked of their protege, he said, winking at Pep:

"The next time you want to go in bathing put on a suit, and you might better look up the tables of tides and see when it is high water."

"That's right," added Pep, nudging the strange lad, to indicate to him that he was thus to pretend it was all an accident that he had been out on the rock.

"Oh—yes," was the hesitating answer. "I'll be more careful next time."

"Tide comes up pretty fast, sometimes," observed a man. The others in the gathering throng accepted this implied explanation, and started to walk away.

"Might as well let them believe everything is all right," whispered Frank in the boy's ear. "You'll feel better next time you meet folks."

"Oh, I can't thank you enough for what you have done for me," said the lad; "but I feel that it isn't any use."

"Nonsense! Don't talk that way!" cried Pep. "We'll soon fix you up. Now, the first thing you need is dry clothes. Where are you stopping? We'll go with you."

"I—I'm not stopping anywhere," was the hesitating answer.

"Oh, come! You must have some place to stay—a home—a boarding house——?" He looked questioningly at the lad.

"I—I did have a place—in a small hotel," was the answer.

"Well, let's go there, and get you fixed up," offered Frank.

"But I haven't that room now," the lad said. "I—my money gave out, and I had to give it up. I have no place to go."

"Then come with us!" cried Pep, impulsively. "We've got heaps more room than we can use in the Cliff House. Come with us."

"Yes," added Frank. "And then tell us your story. What's your trouble, anyhow?"

"And who are you?" asked Pep, as he mentioned his own name and that of his chum.

"My name is Albert Jackson," was the low-voiced reply. "And, since you have been so kind to me, I will tell you my story."

"Wait just a few minutes," suggested Frank. "We can't go up to the Cliff House in this outfit," and he glanced at the bathing suits of himself and his chum. "Just wait until we change, and we'll be with you. Meanwhile you'll dry off a bit."

"I'll stay here with him until you change, and then you can wait for me," suggested Pep, with a well-concealed wink at Frank. The latter understood. Pep did not want to leave Albert alone for fear the lonesome and discouraged lad might again be tempted to do something rash, and this time be more successful.

It did not take the two chums long to make the changes, and soon, clad in their usual garments, Frank and Pep were walking with Albert toward the hotel. Frank had given a look up and down the beach on leaving the vicinity of Seal Rocks, but had not caught sight of Royston. The suspected promoter had left.

"But perhaps the hotel people won't like your bringing me in," suggested Albert.

"Why not, I'd like to know!" exclaimed Frank. "It's our room, and we can bring up what guests we like."

"But I'm so——" he paused and looked at his wet garments.

"You're nearly dry," observed Pep. "Anyhow, anyone is likely to be wet by the spray from the surf. Come along."

As the chums had expected, no one paid any attention to them as they escorted their new friend through the corridor to the elevator and up to their room. True, the elevator attendant did glance rather curiously at Albert's damp garments, but Frank forestalled any criticism by saying in loud tones:

"Next time we'll know enough not to go too near the water, with our good clothes on."

"Dat's right, boss!" chimed in the colored lad, with a friendly laugh. "De watah suah am wet!"

A little later the three boys were in the room of the motion picture chums, the newcomer had been provided with dry garments, and Pep, with a pleasant smile at Albert, said:

"Now, if you're ready to tell us your story we're only too glad to listen. Not that we want to pry into your affairs," added Pep, quickly, for he saw Albert draw back, "but perhaps we can help you."

"Oh, it wasn't that!" exclaimed Albert, quickly. "I do want you to hear my story, for you have been so kind to me. Only for you two I might not—I might not be here now," he faltered. "The only thing is that I don't want to bother you."

"Pshaw! Bother! It isn't any bother at all!" cried Pep, in his usual impetuous way. "We're only too glad to help you."

"That's right," chimed in Frank. "So don't feel that way about it, but tell us your story."

"I will," promised Albert. He considered for a moment, and then began.

"I am an orphan," said Albert, "any my only near living relative, so far as I know, is an uncle, Henry Jackson, my late father's brother. I have lived with him for a number of years, and he was almost like a father to me."

"My uncle had been in various businesses, but, of late, he did not have very good luck, until he undertook to promote several new schemes. One of these was an amusement enterprise for the fair here. He managed to secure a very valuable concession at a low price, because he made an early application, and took a place that was not thought to be of much worth. Afterward the plans of the Zone were changed, and his site became the most valuable in the whole concession space."

"I wish we had his luck," murmured Pep, with regretful thoughts of their own failure.

"He didn't have the luck long," continued Albert. "Something went wrong with him, or at least it began to go wrong, and he was likely to lose all his money, and he had obtained a considerable sum from old friends, to put through this new amusement enterprise.

"But my uncle did not give up. A short time ago he said it would be necessary for him to go to New York to see a certain man and straighten matters out, so he left for the East, and I remained behind here in our hotel.

"I had one letter from my uncle after he reached New York, in which he said he thought everything was going well. Then, most unexpectedly, I received a strange telegram from him, saying that everything was lost."

"That was too bad!" exclaimed Pep. "Still he may get it back."

"You haven't heard the worst," went on Albert. "Of course I felt very badly when I received that word from my uncle, but I felt worse when he came back here, a few days ago, a wreck of his former self. He said his ruin was even worse than he had at first thought, and that he was left without a dollar in the world."

"Well, other men have been ruined, and have 'come back,'" put in Frank.

"But it is impossible in my uncle's case," said Albert, sadly.

"Why?" Pep wanted to know.

"Because yesterday he was seized, judged as insane, and put in an asylum under an order signed by two doctors! Do you wonder I wanted to end my life?" asked Albert.

## CHAPTER XIV

### THE WONDERFUL FILMS

Frank and Pep were silent a moment. They did not know exactly what to do or say under the circumstances, and they did not want to further embarrass their guest. Then Albert resumed:

"You can just imagine how I felt when my uncle was taken away from me, and put in an asylum. I had no other friend or relative, as far as I knew, and all my money—all my uncle's money—was gone. I did not even have enough to pay my hotel bill, for my uncle had come back from New York practically penniless."

"It was a bad fix," murmured Frank, sympathetically.

"And I couldn't think of anything else to do except end my life," went on Albert. "But you saved me in time."

"And we're glad of it!" cried Pep, enthusiastically. "It's never so bad but that it might be worse."

"I don't really know whether I would have had the courage to cast myself into the ocean or not," said Albert, slowly. "I was certainly miserable enough to want to do it. But you came along just in time."

"We rather suspected what you were up to, or what you thought you wanted to do," declared Pep. "Well, now, you just brace up, and we'll see what we can do for you."

"I don't see what you can do," replied Albert, hopelessly. "I haven't a cent of money. In fact, I left my hotel for I couldn't pay for the room any more."

"Did you leave any of your things there?" Frank wanted to know.

"Yes, a trunk of my own and one of my uncle's. I had had two meals after my week was up, and I left the trunks there to pay for them."

"Which it would probably do several times over," observed Pep. "We must get them back for you the first thing."

"But I have no money!" Albert cried.

"Oh, well, we'll advance you enough for that," Frank said, cheerfully.

"But I don't want to borrow what I can't pay back."

"Well, then, we'll give you a chance to earn it, since you are such a stickler!" laughed Pep. "We didn't tell you about ourselves, I guess. We're in the motion picture business, and we have a number of openings for young fellows like you. I think we can place you," and he looked at Frank for confirmation.

"Yes, we ought to be able to find a place for you," replied the other chum. "I wish it could be right here in San Francisco, but we, too, have been disappointed. We expected to be able to get a place in the Zone, but were not able."

"Oh, if you only had my uncle's place!" cried Albert. "But of course that was lost with everything else. Poor man!"

"And you say he is in an asylum?" asked Pep.

"Yes."

"Who had him put there?"

"Some man with whom he had business dealings. This man said my uncle was no longer mentally responsible—that his losses had turned his brain. And it must have been so, for certainly my uncle acted like an insane man. He was very strange, he hardly knew me. Oh, I don't know what to do!"

"Now you leave this all to us," suggested Pep. "We will provide a place for you——"

"But I don't want charity—I want work!" interrupted Albert.

"Well, have it your own way, then," agreed Pep, with a smile. "If we can't open our motion picture theatre here as we planned, we can go back to New York, and there will be a place for you there. But we haven't given up trying here. Now the first thing to do is to get your trunks from that other hotel—that is, unless you had rather go back there and stay, instead of putting up with us for a while, as we have to remain at the Cliff House for some time longer."

"Oh, I'd rather be with you," Albert answered; "that is, if you will arrange it so I can pay you back any money you may advance me."

"We'll do that," agreed Pep. "And now let's get busy, Frank!"

"Getting busy" was something to which the motion picture chums were very well used. In a comparatively short time they had arranged to have Albert installed in a room near them, his trunks had been brought from the other hotel and he was attired in a dry suit of his own, while the wet one was sent out to be pressed.

"I surely can't thank you fellows enough," he said to the chums. "You are more than kind to me."

"Pshaw!" cried Pep. "Maybe we'll want the same kind of treatment ourselves, some day."

Frank and Pep did not forget what had brought them to the Cliff House. But, try as they would, they could get no "line" on the suspected man, Royston. They realized that they must work under cover, for once they were looked upon with suspicion their usefulness to Mr. Bullard would end. And if Royston was up to some underhand game he took great pains to cover his tracks.

In fact, the day after Albert Jackson became the protege of the chums, Royston left the hotel, whether for good or not the boys could not learn.

When Mr. Bullard heard this he said there was no use in Frank and Pep remaining at the Cliff House. On their part they were very anxious to be at work on their own business matters, which had been rather neglected of late.

"Though if we can't get a concession in the Zone, what are we to do?" asked Hank Strapp, when the chums and their friends were together again.

Albert had been welcomed by Randy, Hank Strapp and Ben Jolly and made to feel that he was one of the party. It developed that he could use a typewriter, and as there were a number of letters to be written to the managers of the different motion picture enterprises, Albert was made a sort of secretary, under salary. He seemed to brighten up very much after that—as soon as he was earning money.

Meanwhile the motion picture chums had paid several visits to the manager of the Zone, but he was unable to do anything for them in the matter of providing space.

"I did have hopes that a certain party would drop out," the manager said, "in which case you boys would have had the next chance at his concession. But someone connected with him has taken advantage of the option, and is going to run a show."

"Then there isn't any chance for us?" asked Randy.

"Nothing that I can see, I am sorry to say."

"Too bad!" sighed Ben Jolly with a doleful look on his usually good-natured countenance. "I'm afraid I'll never get my exposition pipe organ!"

"Yes, you will!" cried Frank. "We'll open something here, anyhow!"

"Good!" exclaimed Ben. "Then I sure will be happy; for this California climate certainly suits me."

The matter of what the boys were to do, now they were out at the big fair, became something for serious consideration. They were under quite a heavy expense, and while they were comparatively well-off, they were business-like enough not to wish to waste money uselessly.

Then, one day, a letter was received from a big film agency, stating that certain important films, which had practically been contracted for, were ready for delivery, and the first payment was due.

"Now we are up against it!" exclaimed Randy, as the chums met for a conference.

"Do we have to take those films?" asked Pep. "Can't we decline to receive them? I don't mean do anything dishonest," he hastened to add, "but can't we forfeit a certain sum, and cancel the contract?"

"Yes, we could do that, and legally, too," said Frank. "In fact, that is provided for in the contract. But I don't want to lose the chance to show those films. They are too wonderful, and we have the exclusive agency out here. It would be a shame to let this chance slip."

"What are the films?" asked Albert, who was now almost one of the chums.

"Oh, I forgot, you don't know about them," spoke Frank. "Well, when we considered getting a place at the big fair, my chums and I contracted for some wonderful motion pictures. One series showed life under the ocean, the views being taken in a sort of diving-bell, and the pictures presented the floor of the ocean, big and little fish swimming around most naturally, coral growing and great rocks. There are views of wrecks, divers going about their work, and some wonderful scenes of a fight with a man-eating shark. Those views alone would have netted us a tidy sum.

"But we have others, also. The second series shows marvels of wild animal life, in different countries. Jungle beasts are pictured coming to the water holes to drink, and there are a number of thrilling fights among wild animals. The two sets of films, with some others, more ordinary, but new, would have made an exhibition that would have drawn crowds."

"And now we can't take them," said Pep.

"I don't see how we can," agreed Frank. "We spoke of opening a motion picture theatre in town, after we found we couldn't get space at the fair, but I hardly think that would pay. In the first place we would have to put up a premium on the regular price of such a place because of the extra crowds that will be attracted by the fair. And again, no one who had a good site would be willing to sell out. So we would lose money instead of making it."

"Then what are we to do?" asked Randy.

"I don't know," was Frank's dejected answer.

Truly the motion picture chums were in more desperate straits than at any time since they had gone into business together.

They were in danger not only of losing money, but their reputations would suffer. They had contracted to take certain films, and, though they could refuse to carry out that contract, and pay the prescribed penalty, this would become known in motion picture circles, and the chums would get a "black eye," from a business standpoint.

"We really can't afford to let the films go, and we can hardly afford to take them," said Frank. "I don't know what to advise."

"I wish I could help you," said Albert. "You have done so much for me, that I would like to return it. But I can't. If my uncle were only in his right mind I feel sure he would help. He was such a good business man, and promoted so many enterprises. But he is out of the race now," and there were tears in Albert's eyes.

"Well," spoke Frank, with a long breath, "we've got to do something, that's sure. I think we'll——"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" called Frank, and a messenger entered with a note.

## CHAPTER XV

### A DISCLOSURE

Frank tore open the envelope, handed the messenger a tip, and quickly glanced over the enclosed note. Then he gave vent to a sharp whistle.

"Well, what is it?" cried Pep, impetuously. "Don't keep all the good news to yourself."

"Is it good news?" asked Randy.

"Of a sort, yes," admitted Frank. "It's from Mr. Bullard," he went on.

"More about—er—our friend?" asked Pep, shading off from mentioning the name just in time, for the messenger was still near the open door, out in the corridor.

"No, this concerns strictly ourselves," Frank said. "It's about a concession in the fair."

"Has he got a place for us in the Zone?" cried Pep. "Hurray! That's the ticket! I knew a way would be found out of all our trouble."

"Not so fast," cautioned Frank. "This is a note half-promising, at least, a place for a motion picture theatre at the fair, but it isn't in the Zone. It's out in one of the government buildings, and Mr. Bullard wants us to come and see it."

"I'm afraid that won't do," said Randy, shaking his head. "You know we've got to be where the largest crowds are."

"Well, it won't do any harm to take a look," proposed Frank. "You see," he went on to Albert, "we did, or tried to do, this Mr. Bullard, a government agent, a favor. He wants to repay the kindness, and he is trying to get us space at the fair. It is very good of him, for he knows what a pickle we are in. He must have pulled some wires for us, as he promised to do, to get some of the government men to consent to share their space."

"Well, perhaps we can make it do," suggested Pep. "Let's go out and take a look, anyhow."

"Yes," agreed Hank Strapp, "and it won't do any harm to tap up that director again. He may have heard something by this time."

"Well, I can't go out," said Ben Jolly. "I heard of a second-hand pipe organ that was for sale, and I want to look at it. If we do get a place we may be able to work this organ in. I'll go see what it amounts to. It might save us buying a new one."

"And I promised to call on an old mining friend of mine," said Strapp, "so you'll have to excuse me. You boys will have to decide on the place, anyhow, as you know what would, or wouldn't, do for a motion picture theatre."

"Then we four will go," suggested Pep, with a look at Albert.

"I haven't finished all the letters yet," objected the lad who had been befriended by the chums.

"There's no great hurry about them," suggested Frank. "Come along with us, and enjoy yourself."

Together the four friends started for the fair grounds. The place was becoming more and more busy each day, as the opening date came nearer. Mr. Bullard had named one of the government buildings where he would meet the boys, and thither they directed their steps.

The United States had planned to outdo all previous efforts in doing its share to make the Panama Exposition a success, and the appropriation was liberal. It was to be a sort of résumé of what Uncle Sam had done, was doing and intended to do along many lines of human endeavor, and there were scores of buildings to hold the government exhibits.

Nor had other nations neglected the opportunity to be represented. Even those who for war, or other reasons, were not as well represented by products peculiar to their special countries had done something, so that those who came to the big fair would not forget them.

Many individual states of the United States had buildings of their own, and that for New York, for which the chums felt a special fondness, was looked at in admiration as they passed it.

The government and state buildings were some distance removed from the vicinity of the Zone, and when Frank saw how far this distance was he shook his head doubtfully.

"I'm afraid it won't do, no matter how much space we can be given," he thought.

The boys had gone in at the Scott Street entrance, and had walked along the wonderful Avenue of Palms, past the Horticulture Palace to Administration Avenue, on which fronted the artificial lake and the beautiful Fine Arts Palace.

They paused for a moment to admire this, beautiful as it was, in its yet unfinished state, and then they swung along the Avenue of Nations, to the Esplanade. Along that, and along the parallel Avenue of the States, were ranged the various buildings of the political divisions from Maine to California.

"Mr. Bullard said he'd be in the Missouri building," stated Frank. "That's his native state, it seems."

"There he is now," called Pep, as he caught sight of the figure of the government man. Mr. Bullard waved to the chums.

"Glad you came," was his greeting. "This is the best I have been able to do for you, in return for what you did for me, and even now I don't know if it will suit you. Come and have a look at it."

"It is very good of you to go to all this trouble," spoke Frank, when Albert had been introduced.

"No trouble at all. I was only too glad to do it for you. But, as I say, wait and see it. I'm afraid it won't suit."

And it did not. It needed but a glance from the motion picture chums to tell them that the building Mr. Bullard had obtained for their use would never answer as a picture playhouse. In the first place, it was off to one side of the main United States government structure, near the section devoted to the live stock exhibit. True enough, this was at the end of the ground where the aviation and athletic field was located, but Frank and the others felt that there would be too much competition between the airships and their "show" to enable them to do good business, except at night, and they needed day crowds as well as those that would come after dark.

"What do you think of it?" asked Mr. Bullard, as he pointed the place out to the chums.

"It's large enough," said Randy, hopefully.

"Yes, and I can get permission for you to alter the interior in any way you like, as long as it conforms to the fire regulations," went on Mr. Bullard. "Some of my government friends were only glad enough to enable me to do you this favor in return for what you did for me."

"It certainly is very good of you," said Frank, "and we thank you very much, but I'm afraid we can't use it. Out here we would not be able to make expenses, and those new films are costing us a lot of money."

"Well, I was rather afraid there'd be a slip-up somewhere!" exclaimed Mr. Bullard. "Might have known I couldn't do you a favor when I wanted to."

"Oh, it isn't your fault!" cried Pep. "It's just conditions. The Zone is the only place for us, and we can't get there."

"No, I'm afraid I can't help you to get a place there," said Mr. Bullard. "Places in the Zone are at a premium. Well, there's no use staying here any longer."

"No," agreed Frank. "And we will have to decide, pretty soon, whether we are going to stay in San Francisco, or go back East."

"I don't want to see you have your trip for nothing," went on Mr. Bullard. "But I can't, for the life of me, think of a plan——"

"Look!" suddenly cried Randy, pointing upward. "An aeroplane!"

"So it is!" exclaimed Frank.

The boys gazed upward at the flying machine. It was that of one of the foreign "birdmen" who were to give an exhibition at the fair. He had come over early, to get a month or so of practice over the new aviation field.

"Say! That's great!" cried Pep.

"It certainly is," agreed Albert. "That's the first one I've ever seen."

This was not so in regard to the motion picture chums, for they had often witnessed airships in flight at meets, and once they had been invited guests when a celebrated aviator gave an exhibition where motion pictures of his "stunts" were taken. Afterward the boys showed the films in their various theatres.

For some little time the chums watched the man high up in the air. Suddenly the bird-like craft was seen to hover for a moment, and then dart suddenly downward.

"He's falling! He'll be killed!" cried Albert.

"No, he's only volplaning down," explained Frank.

"Oh, but look! He's upside down!" almost screamed Albert, so excited was he.

"That's only another stunt!" said Pep. "He's looping the loop. But I've seen it done better than that."

Albert marveled that anyone could speak so when such a wonderful operation was being done high in the air. But, as I have said, the motion picture chums were rather sophisticated.

Suddenly from the monoplane something white was seen to detach itself and fall.

"There he goes!" cried Albert. "He'll be killed."

"It's only a dust-bomb!" explained Frank. "He is probably going into the bomb-dropping contests, and this is his way of practicing."

A few seconds later something dropped with a thud near the boys. They all started, but only a cloud of harmless white chalk dust arose.

The bomb was made of light material, intended to burst on striking, and scatter a cloud of dust so that the aviator, high in the air, could see where his missile had dropped, and correct his mistake in distance, if he had made any.

After dropping the "bomb," and righting himself after the loop-the-loop position, the aviator sailed off and was lost to sight in the clouds.

"Well, I can't do anything more for you boys right away," said Mr. Bullard, "and I'm truly sorry. Especially as I may have to ask you to do me another favor."

"In regard to that same party?" asked Pep.

"Yes. I haven't been able to 'land' him yet. He is a slippery customer. But I'll get him yet."

"Call on us whenever you need us," said Pep. "We'll probably stay here a little longer yet; anyhow, until we exhaust every chance of getting a place. We'll do all we can for you."

"I know you will, boys, and I appreciate it."

The government man left the chums to their own devices. They strolled about for a while, vainly trying to decide what was best to do.

"I know one thing we might take a chance on," suggested Frank.

"What's that?" asked Pep.

"Getting a motion picture concern to make some films showing the work going on at the fair grounds right now. Views could be made showing the various buildings being completed, and the grounds being laid out. The Zone, too, would make fine pictures with all the odd amusement enterprises being prepared there.

"It wouldn't be taking much of a chance to have those pictures made," Pep agreed. "And if we didn't use 'em here we could in some of our theatres."

"Then I think I'll do it," Frank decided. "There is a good concern here in San Francisco, with whom we have done business before. I'll give them an order. It's worth taking a chance on."

The boys were strolling back, intending to go to their hotel. As they passed along the Avenue of Palms Albert, who was walking a little in advance, with Pep, started back, and grasped the arm of his companion.

"What's the matter—see a snake?" asked Pep, with a laugh.

"No—but look—that man!" stammered Albert "See him!" and he pointed to one sitting on a bench not far in advance.

"What about him?" asked Frank, in a curious voice.

"Why he is the man my uncle went to see in New York, and came back ruined and insane. That man was the one who petitioned to have my uncle put in the asylum!"

"You don't say so!" cried Frank. "Why, that's Royston! What's going to come of this, anyhow?"

## CHAPTER XVI

### INVESTIGATION

The motion picture chums stared at Albert, who, in turn, looked with wide eyes at the man he had accused. It was Royston, plainly enough, but he was unaware of the scrutiny turned upon him.

"Look out!" suddenly called Pep, and before he explained further he wheeled Albert about so that his back was toward the man, at the same time giving Frank a shove so that his chum's face was turned away.

"What does that mean?" asked Frank, almost thrown off his balance.

"He's looking this way," explained Pep in a low voice. "You don't want him to see us; do you? And especially Albert, after what he has just told us?"

"I should say not!" Frank answered. "I was so surprised I lost my wits, I guess."

"Down this way," suggested Pep, a moment later, as he pointed to a side path. "He hasn't caught on, yet, to who we are."

Frank and the others took advantage of the opportunity. Royston, sitting on the bench, had turned in a half-lazy fashion to gaze at the group of young men. But either he did not sense who they were, or his thoughts were so occupied with other matters, that he did not even see the group. Our friends, in their turn, made their escape in safety. For escape it might properly be called, since they were playing a desperate game—or were about to.

"Now then," said Frank, when they were behind a screen of shrubbery, "let's hear the straight of this, Albert. You say that man is the one your uncle went to New York to see?"

"That's the man. He had some important connection with my uncle's business—I don't know just what. But you spoke as though you knew him."

"I do—in a way," replied Frank. "At one time I'd have given a good deal if I had never met him—at least in the way I did," and he thought of his sore arm, the result of the encounter with Royston.

"Is that all you know about him?" Albert wanted to know, when Frank had related the episode at the bank.

"Gracious, no!" was the reply. "We've been on that man's trail for some time, Pep and I, but we haven't been able to clinch anything yet."

"Maybe we can now," suggested Randy.

"How?" asked Frank.

"Why, Albert said this man was the one who put his uncle in the insane asylum."

"Yes, he was the one mainly responsible," went on the boy whom the chums had befriended. "But I don't see how that is going to help you boys any, or me either. My uncle was certainly insane. I never saw a man act as he did."

"Was he, really?" asked Frank, and there was a note of regret in his voice.

"Yes, I am sorry to say I believe his mind has left him," went on Albert.

"I had hopes," said Frank, seeing his chums looking at him for an explanation, "that perhaps it was all a scheme on the part of this man to put your uncle in some institution without warrant in law. In that case we sure would have a hold on Royston."

"Oh, I don't think there was anything like that," Albert said. "Of course I don't know much about insane persons, but my uncle certainly wasn't right in his mind. I think his losses made him so. And doctors certified to the fact that he was insane. The law requires that, you see."

"Yes, I see, and I don't see," returned Frank. "I guess we'll have to go about it some other way. I sure would like to get a hold on this Royston, if not for my own sake, to please Mr. Bullard."

"Does someone else want him, too?" asked Albert.

Frank explained about the suspicions of the government Secret Service man, and how futile, thus far, had been his efforts and those of the chum volunteers.

"But perhaps if you were to explain to Mr. Bullard what sort of business dealings your uncle had with Royston, we might discover something," suggested Frank. "We might even be able to get back some of the money you say your uncle lost, part of which was yours."

"I only wish we could!" exclaimed Albert. "Yes, part of the money my uncle invested in promoting his affairs was mine. That is, I had earned it from him, but I allowed him to keep it for me. That went with the rest, he said, when he came back from his trip to New York."

"I think we'll have a talk with Mr. Bullard," suggested Randy. "This may lead us to a new line of discovery."

"I wish it would lead to the discovery of some money for me," spoke Albert, whimsically. "I'm tired of living on you fellows."

"None of that!" cried Pep, with playful warning. "We're glad to have you live with us."

"That's what!" chimed in Randy.

"And you needn't worry but what you are paying your way," added Frank. "The typewriting work, and letter writing you do, is worth more than we pay you, really."

"And you needn't be at all afraid of taking the money," went on Pep. "Frank is hard-headed enough not to overpay anyone."

"Well, I'm glad to feel that I'm not living on charity," observed Albert, "and if I can do anything to help restore my uncle's fortune, or aid you in fastening guilt on this man, I'll do it."

"We'd better begin at the beginning and investigate," suggested Randy. "And, as a starter, we had better see Mr. Bullard. He may be able to start us on the right track."

"But we must keep out of the way of Royston," cautioned Pep, as he looked back over his shoulder, possibly to see if the suspect were following them. But the path was deserted.

"Yes, we don't want to run across him in company of Albert, or he sure would smell a rat," Randy agreed. "He must have some object in trying to be friendly with us."

But what that object was the motion picture chums could only guess.

Mr. Bullard was indeed surprised when the boys, calling on him, related their meeting with Albert, and the latter's recognition of Royston.

"And now, what's the first thing to be done?" asked Pep, when Albert had told his story.

"I think a good start, and at least a new one, would be to look into this matter of Mr. Jackson's being adjudged insane," replied the Secret Service man. "Of course we may find it all perfectly legal, but it may develop, as we go along, and it may disclose some new opening by which we can get hold of Royston.

"For I don't mind admitting," he said with a smile, "that, so far, he has fooled me completely. I know he is planning a big swindle, but I can't get hold of anything on which to convict him. It is very annoying, for the authorities in Washington are wondering why I don't show some results. So we'll start on a new tack."

To commit a person to an insane asylum is rather a formal proceeding, requiring action not only on the part of the state, or county, authorities, but also action by at least two physicians, who make separate examinations of the patient. Then, in many cases, must come an action on the part of some court, so that there is legal proof of every step.

There may be plots, by which sane persons are wrongfully sent to asylums, but those happen more often in novels than in real life. Though Pep rather hoped there would be a dramatic turn to the investigation started by his chums, it was not so fated—at least, not yet.

Mr. Bullard looked up the matter of the commitment of Mr. Jackson, and found that it was perfectly legal. The two doctors were interviewed, and each said there was no doubt about the insanity of Albert's uncle.

"So we can't do anything there," declared Randy.

"Well, I haven't given up," returned the government man. "If you noticed, those doctors were both very young. It was their first insane case outside of college, and they were both rather poor."

"What does that mean?" asked Albert, hopefully.

"I can't say—just yet. It may mean a whole lot, and, again it may mean nothing. It's worth looking into, however. But before we go into that I want to look up the business end of your uncle's affairs, and find out what he did in New York. Did he meet anyone else there except this Royston?"

"Not that I know of," Albert stated.

"Have you any papers belonging to your uncle?" was the next question.

"Yes, some, in my trunk, or in one of my uncle's."

"Then, if you have no objection, we'll take a look at them. We may be able to get a clue from them."

This investigation had occupied several days, during which Royston had not been encountered by the chums. Meanwhile they were exceedingly anxious to settle the matter of a motion picture theatre at the fair, but it did not seem that their wish would be gratified. The owners of the wonderful and expensive films were pressing the boys to either take up their option, or forfeit it, as another concern in San Francisco was after the pictures.

"I declare I don't know what to do," said Frank, and his chums saw that he was greatly worried.

## CHAPTER XVII

### "WILD LIFE"

Albert, rummaging in a trunk that had belonged to his uncle, which piece of baggage had been brought from the hotel with his own, found a mass of papers which, at first glance, seemed to be utterly worthless. But Mr. Bullard smiled cheerfully when he saw them, and said:

"Oh, I've tackled worse jobs than this. We may find something of value in them. Now I tell you what, you boys can go off and amuse yourselves while I look over these documents. I'm used to this sort of work, and you're not. Go off and have a good time, and come back this evening. I'll be all day at this."

"But that doesn't seem fair," objected Pep. "We want to do our share of the work."

"Oh, you'll do it, never fear! I'll leave plenty of loose ends for you boys to clear up," the government agent said.

And with that the boys had to be content. They realized that a trained investigator, such as was Mr. Bullard, would know best how to sift the mass of papers Albert had turned over to him. A chance letter, or slip, might offer a clue the boys would overlook.

"Well, what shall we do?" asked Pep, eager for some kind of action.

"Couldn't we go out and see Albert's uncle—I mean, couldn't he call on him?" suggested Randy. "I don't like insane asylums myself—in fact, I have never been in one—I imagine I wouldn't like it—but wouldn't it be a good thing to call on your uncle, Albert?"

"I'm afraid not, much as I would like to cheer him up. You see he hardly knew me when he came back from New York in that unfortunate condition, and it might only make him worse, or sadden him more, to go and see him."

"I agree with that," Mr. Bullard said. "Have patience, and I think you will soon be able to see your relative, Albert, under happier conditions."

"Oh, do you really?" the lad asked. "I hope so. He is all I have in the world—except you fellows," and he looked affectionately at Pep and his companions.

"Let's take another run over to the fair grounds," proposed Randy. "Maybe something has happened there."

"I guess you're hoping that we'll get a concession after all," laughed Pep.

"Well, yes, I am," admitted his chum. "Somehow or other I feel it in my bones that we are going to come out of this right side up, with care."

"It had better start pretty soon righting itself," remarked Frank. "So far all we've done is to spend money."

"What about that film option?" asked Randy.

"I renewed it," Frank replied. "I had to pay a little higher price, this time, and the option doesn't run for so long. But I figured that if we had any kind of a theatre here at all we'd want the very best films we could get hold of. Only by using them can we make up our losses. So it would have been a pity to have let these films slide, even though we have to put up a pretty good sum to hold them.

"Of course what I did is subject to the approval of you two," and Frank looked at Randy and Pep. For the business was shared in common. "Mr. Strapp and Ben Jolly agreed with me," Frank resumed.

"Well, you needn't worry but what we'll do the same thing!" cried Pep. "We'll leave it all to you."

"Sure," assented Randy.

"Then this arranges matters so that we still have a little time left to look about for some sort of a concession," went on Frank. "But I think we have pretty well decided that we want one in the Zone, or nowhere."

"That's it!" cried Pep. "Let's go over there now, and see if someone hasn't dropped out so we can get in. Something has to happen soon, for there aren't many weeks left before the opening."

Affairs were being rushed at the great exposition, which would be the largest of its kind in the world. More men were coming every day to help install the exhibits, beautify the grounds or add to the beauty of the already marvelous buildings. The Zone was a particularly busy place, for that would be the real money-making part of the exposition. New amusement enterprises were being put up every day, some of them exceedingly weird and novel.

The chums' first act was to apply to the director of the Zone concessions to learn if there was any vacancy of which they might take advantage. They found that official in his office.

"Well, I'm glad to see you boys!" he exclaimed. "I think I have something for you at last."

"Have you, really?" cried Frank, in delight. "Hurray! That's great. Where is the place?"

"I'll show you in a minute. Here," said the director to his secretary, "write this fellow Royston a letter, and tell him I want to see him. I don't like the sort of exhibition he's putting in. He's got to modify it a whole lot before I put my 'O. K.' on it. He isn't the original holder of the concession, anyhow, and it's only by stretching a point that we let him come in. But if he does come he has to conform to our rules. Write him a good stiff letter, and tell him I want him to make it a point to see me. There are too many of Royston's class trying to get in this exposition."

"Royston," thought Frank. "I wonder if it can be the same one? But I guess I won't make any inquiries now. There's too much else in the wind."

"Now, boys, I'm ready to show you what I can give you," went on the director. "Mind, I'm not sure it will be what you want, but it's all I have to offer, and it will likely be the last place available in the Zone. It was thrown back on our hands because of the death of one of the owners of the enterprise, and the others are too broken-up to go on with it. Come along."

The boys were very hopeful as they followed the official down the main avenue of the amusement space. On all sides of them were busy scenes, every owner of a concession being eager to get his enterprise in shape for opening when the fair was officially declared ready for visitors.

"Here's the place," said the director at length, as he came to a stop in front of a small, partially completed building. A sign outside disclosed the fact that it was to be devoted to a sort of educational exhibit of the art of glass making, and it had been the intention of the promoters to make souvenir articles, showing the different processes of their industry. These souvenirs would be sold.

"You may have this place, if it is of any use to you," said the director. "It has seats in, I believe, and you might easily make it over into a motion picture house. Do you want it?"

Frank and his chums looked at it. Their hearts sank. At the first glance it was evident that it would not do. The size was the fact most potently against it. Otherwise it might have answered. But the building occupied the limit of the land on which it stood. There was no chance for enlargement.

"Well, will you take it?" asked the director. Frank shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "but it would never do. We could not make our expenses, to say nothing of a profit on the investment we should be obliged to put in. The place is too small."

"That's what I was afraid of," the director went on. "But I made up my mind you should have first choice of any vacancy. Mr. Bullard had spoken for you," he added.

"He sure is a good friend of ours," Randy said, "and I'm sorry this place won't answer. I guess we'll have to go back to New York."

"And I don't like to see that happen," the director exclaimed. "We need a good moving picture show here, but no one applied for that sort of a concession, and I never thought to set one aside."

There was nothing more that could be done, and when the director had returned to his office the boys stood in the midst of the Zone, looking rather disconsolately at one another.

"Too bad; isn't it?" remarked Randy.

"It sure is," was Frank's reply.

"Oh, pshaw! Let's give up and get out!" suggested impetuous Pep. "We're only wasting our time here. I say let's pull out!"

"Not until our second option on those valuable films expires," declared Frank. "We might as well hang on as long as we can since we've paid our money. It's an education to be here, even if the fair hasn't opened."

"Oh, well, I'm not a quitter—I'll stay as long as you fellows do," Pep went on, "but it seems to me we are losing a chance to make good money somewhere else."

"Our other shows are doing well," spoke Randy. "We don't need to worry about them. And this is a chance we'll have only once in a lifetime. I'm in favor of hanging on."

And so the others agreed with him.

"Are you going to do anything about having some films made of the grounds here?" asked Pep of Frank, as they strolled along.

"Well, yes. I think we'll carry out that scheme. It won't cost such a pile, and if we can't use the pictures here, we can in New York, or somewhere else. I'm going to give the order to-day."

Talking of their prospects, speculating on what might happen, the chums made their way past the various amusement concessions.

"Hello, look at this!" exclaimed Frank, stopping in front of a large building. It was one of the most imposing in the Zone, but hitherto it had been concealed from view by a high fence. This was now down, and the structure showed well.

The whole front of the structure was painted in the most gaudy pictures imaginable, showing all varieties of jungle animals, in all sorts of impossible postures, lions fighting elephants and rhinoceroses, camels and giraffes in a duel of heels, snakes swallowing tigers and other absurdities.

The whole front of one section of the building was given over to a sign reading:

WILD LIFE IN THE JUNGLE

Bradley Royston, Proprietor.

"Look at that!" cried Pep. "That must be the same man."

"Yes, and that's the exhibit the director spoke about," added Frank. "Let's get a closer look. It seems to be open to the workmen at least."

The chums approached "Wild Life."

## CHAPTER XVIII

### SUSPICIONS

Certainly Royston's amusement enterprise was large enough. The building was one of the most commodious in the Zone, though it did not at first seem so. Frank and his chums walked in unmolested, for workmen were going and coming, and the doors were not closed.

At the farther end of the building, as they could see when they reached the interior, was a stage, and in front of this, extending back to the rear, were rows of seats, arranged as in a theatre, sloping so those in the back might have as good a view as those in the front. There were two balconies of good size.

"Say, if we only had this place!" exclaimed Randy, looking about with envious eyes.

"Wouldn't it be great!" added Pep.

"This is the sort of business my uncle was in," spoke Albert. "He always went in for big spectacles. He said he didn't have time to bother with small affairs. But perhaps that's what weakened his mind—trying to do too big things."

"Were he and Royston ever engaged in any enterprise together?" asked Pep, wondering if Mr. Bullard had made any progress in looking over Mr. Jackson's papers.

"Not that I know of," Albert answered. "I never really knew much about my uncle's affairs. He was not a man to talk much. He was more used to action. Say, but this is a big place, all right! I wonder what sort of a show they are going to put on here?"

"Wild animals, the sign says," spoke Randy.

"I wonder if they'll be real, or stuffed?" ventured Pep.

"They wouldn't dare to try and palm off a fake like stuffed animals," was Frank's opinion. "There must be some sort of action in it or they wouldn't have all these seats with a view of the stage. Well, if we stay until the fair opens we'll have a chance to see what it is that will open up here."

The interior of the building was almost as gaudy as the outside. Painters were engaged in spreading on brilliant colors, and here and there others were busy painting pictures of jungle beasts.

"Whoever gave the artists their model sketches didn't know much about the jungle," was Frank's comment, after a brief survey.

"What makes you think so?" asked Albert.

"Because they've got a lot of wrong stuff in here. We ran a series of African hunting pictures once, and I took particular notice of the beasts and their surroundings. Half of these pictures are pure fakes."

"Well, the pictures won't count—it's the kind of show Royston will put on," declared Pep. "He may do something that will be a surprise."

"Yes, in more senses than one," said Frank, drily. "But of course we can't tell until we see the whole show—if we ever do. But this place is certainly big."

They strolled about, wishing with all their hearts that they had some similar building for their motion pictures. No one appeared to object to the presence of the boys. In fact, other casual visitors strolled in, expressing their wonder at the place.

"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Frank, as his chums were talking rather loudly about a certain painting of an elephant and lion in a fight. "Listen!"

"What's up?" demanded Pep. They were, just then, in a sort of side corridor of the structure.

"Don't you recognize that voice?" asked Frank in a whisper. His chums, listening, heard someone saying:

"Yes, sir, this is going to be the biggest thing at the fair. There won't be anything that can touch it. Not only will it be amusing, but it will be instructive as well. I'll have more varieties of wild animal life from the jungle than ever before was brought under one roof. I'll match the old Roman games. I'll give the people a show the like of which was never seen before. This is going to be THE place of this Zone. I tell you, sir, you won't make any mistake investing in this. You'll triple your money, and another matter——"

The voice died out. Randy looked at his chums.

"Know who that was?" he asked.

"I sure do," replied Pep. "Royston."

"Right!" whispered Randy, "and he sure is blowing his own horn. But that's his way. Can you see him?"

The chums, huddled in the dimness of a half-finished emergency exit, looked about for a sight of the unseen speakers, but could not glimpse them. It was evident, from what little of the conversation they had heard, that Royston was trying to induce someone else to help finance his "Wild Life" amusement enterprise. Frank had a desire to see who this might be, but he did not want to run any chances in getting the information.

Curiously enough it was Albert who solved the difficulty.

"Say," he began, "I think perhaps you fellows could run this better alone."

"Run what better?" asked Pep.

"This affair just now. You want to find out what Royston is up to; don't you?"

"We sure do," declared Randy.

"And you know him well enough to speak to him if you meet him; don't you?"

"Yes, though I can't say that he is the nicest person in the world to talk to," Randy admitted. "But I don't see what you are driving at, Albert."

"It's just this. If I am with you when you meet Royston I think he will get suspicious right away. He doesn't know me very well, but he has seen me with my uncle, and if he now saw me with you he might put two and two together and make more than four."

"That's the idea!" cried Pep. "Albert's got the right of it."

"But what's to be done?" asked Randy. "We're not going to desert you, Albert."

"I should say not!" cried Pep. "I won't hear of any such talk!" and he blustered around in his impetuous but well-meant way.

"No, I wouldn't want you to desert me, but let me desert you for a while," suggested Albert. "That is, let me leave you free to do as you wish. In that way you may be able to get some line on Royston. He will talk more freely if I am not with you."

"Well, there may be something in that," admitted Frank. "And I sure would like to help out Mr. Bullard by aiding him to convict this fellow."

"Then let me go back to the hotel," went on Albert. "You can come when you get ready. Maybe Mr. Bullard has some information for me from having looked over Uncle Henry's papers."

"It looks like driving you away from us," objected Randy.

"Nothing of the sort!" Albert cried. "It's just a division of our forces."

"Albert's right," decided Randy. Indeed, the young boy was much changed from the despondent lad of about a week previous. He was able to offer valuable suggestions now.

"Well, you go on back," suggested Frank, "and we'll stroll about this fake jungle for a while longer. We may meet Royston, and he may invite us to invest some money. Of course we won't, but it will give us a chance to talk to him. And you may be sure we won't let him know that we have met the nephew of the man he sent to the insane asylum."

This little plan, thus hastily decided on, was put into effect. Albert went out by a side door, leaving his chums in the big place that was soon, so it seemed, to echo to the roar of wild beasts.

"How to find Royston," suggested Frank to his chums.

It was no very hard matter to locate the promoter. His voice alone would have guided one to his locality, were it not also for the fact that wherever he was the workmen increased their activity. Whether they were afraid of the "boss," or whether they wanted to create a favorable impression, was not manifest. At any rate, Royston's progress about the building was easily traced, and it was not long before the three chums came face to face with him.

"Hello! What are you fellows doing here?" was the not very pleasant manner in which Royston greeted the young men. He was alone, and there was a scowl on his face. Frank said afterward that possibly he had not been able to "land his fish."

"What do you want?" Royston asked, rather harshly.

"Oh, we're just looking around," said Randy.

"Huh! Yes, looking around! Don't you know this place isn't yet open to the public?" demanded the promoter.

"Yes, we are aware of that," Frank said, "but we saw others coming in, and we also entered."

"You had no right to!" snapped the other, and his eyes flashed. His usually red face became of a more ruddy hue, as it had that day at the bank when he ran into Frank.

"We did not mean any harm," spoke Pep. "But we saw the doors open and——"

"Doors open; eh? I'll fix that watchman!" cried Royston. "I'll discharge him; that's what I'll do!"

He seemed very angry, yet it was obvious that he was trying to keep his temper, and not to make too sudden a break with the boys. But he could not hold himself in.

"You'll have to get out of here!" he cried. "I don't want people sneaking around in here, stealing my ideas, and then using them for their own benefit."

"We're not doing anything of the kind!" cried Pep, hotly, stung by the unjust suspicion. "We saw this place open, and we just happened to stroll in. If you don't want people in here why don't you put up a sign 'No Admittance'? Then we would have stayed out."

"I'll have that sign up right away!" Royston exclaimed. "But the fact that it wasn't up doesn't give you a right to stay here. I want you to get out. First thing I know you will be using some of my ideas, and I'll be up against a rival attraction."

"Not on our part," said Frank quickly. "This isn't in our line at all. We go in strictly for motion pictures, and this would be of absolutely no benefit to us. In fact, we wouldn't think of trying to make anything like it."

"Lucky for you that you don't," was Royston's reply. "I'd have an injunction suit started against you if you did. This has to be kept secret until it's time to open. Just wait until I see that watchman!" and muttering angrily he glared at the boys. "You'll have to go!" he exclaimed.

"Come on, fellows," suggested Frank, and he and his chums walked slowly toward the main entrance. Royston followed slowly after them.

"Oh, you needn't be afraid we'll try to hide and come back," Pep shot at him.

"I'll see that you don't," snapped Royston. "I've had too many tricks played on me not to know another. I'll see that you leave the premises."

And he was as good as his word. He followed the chums all the way down to the doors, and watched them go out into the Zone main highway. Then, as the lads turned in the direction of their hotel, they could hear the irate promoter "laying down the law" to the luckless door-keeper. Royston's voice rose high and shrill.

"Just what I suspected," announced Frank to his chums.

"Do you mean you looked for this?" asked Randy.

"Well, not exactly being ejected, but I thought we should find—well, just what we have found."

"And what's that?" asked Pep.

"A fake!" cried Frank. "That jungle place is a fake from beginning to end. That's why Royston didn't want us in there. He knew we would spot it. I see his game now!"

## CHAPTER XIX

### HOT WORDS

"Hello, what brings you back?"

"Well, we had a little mix-up, and the boys thought it best that I return here."

It was Albert who thus answered the question of Mr. Bullard, the latter being seated in Albert's room at the hotel, engaged in going over a mass of papers taken from Mr. Jackson's trunk.

"Mix-up?" repeated the government agent, wonderingly. "I hope you and Frank's chums didn't have a quarrel."

"Indeed we did not," answered Albert with a smile. "They aren't the kind of chaps with whom one quarrels. They're too fine for that."

"Well, that's the way I 'sized 'em up,' as Hank Strapp would say," resumed the Secret Service man. "But why aren't you with them?"

Thereupon Albert told what had occurred in the exhibition place of the Royston concession.

"And you don't know just what Frank intended to do if he met that schemer; do you?" asked Mr. Bullard.

"No," Albert replied. "Only he didn't want Royston to see us together."

"And I think he was right in that. Well, it's just as well that you came back, for perhaps you can help me to try to get to the bottom of this mystery."

"Is there a mystery?" asked Albert eagerly. "Have you discovered anything that would straighten out my uncle's affairs? I am so anxious to know if there is any chance of my getting my money. Not for myself alone," he added quickly, lest he be misjudged; "but, as it is now, my uncle is in that asylum as a charity patient—a ward of the state. And he used to be well-off. If he has to have treatment in an insane hospital he ought to pay for it, and have the best.

"That is why I am anxious about the money, though I would like some for myself. I don't want Frank and his chums to be paying my hotel bills."

"I appreciate your position," said Mr. Bullard with a smile, "and I am glad to tell you I think there is a small chance."

"Good!" cried the lad. "What is it? Tell me about it!"

"That's just what I can't do at present," was the reply. "I need your help in unravelling some of the tangles. Your uncle was probably so worried, just before his mind failed, that he did not keep proper records, and I find it hard to straighten out his affairs. Now we will go over these papers."

He laid a bundle down before Albert, putting aside a number that were evidently of little account.

"Oh, those papers!" cried the lad.

"Do you recognize them?"

"In a way—yes. My uncle said they represented something that he hoped would net him a lot of money. But he never went into details with me about it. I guess he had too much else to do. But I remember seeing him go over them. And some of those papers he took with him to New York. When he came back he threw them into the trunk, locked it and then he—he broke down."

Albert's voice faltered.

"I understand," observed Mr. Bullard gently. "But you have told me one of the things I most wanted to know—that Mr. Jackson took these papers to New York with him. I begin to see daylight now. We will go over all of them and you may be able to give me further aid."

Carefully, one by one, the papers were gone over. Some Albert had never seen, but with others he was quite familiar, and some he had even copied for his uncle, who had explained them briefly to him.

It was not easy work, but Mr. Bullard and Albert kept at it. Finally one paper was taken from a bundle of others. As Mr. Bullard unfolded it another slip fell to the floor. Albert picked it up and handed it to the Secret Service man. At the sight of this the government agent cried out:

"There it is! That's what I've been looking for all the while. Now this clinches it!" and he waved the document triumphantly in the air.

"Clinches what?" asked Albert.

"The fact that your uncle was the original owner of a most valuable concession in the fair Zone," was the answer. "I suspected as much from the other papers, but it needed this to prove it."

"My uncle held a concession in the exposition Zone!" cried Albert. "I never heard that!"

"No, for the reason that he was very quiet about it. Only a few persons knew, and those who did have taken advantage of it."

"Taken advantage? What do you mean?"

"I mean they cheated him of his rights. Who knows? Perhaps it was that which made his mind fail. At any rate, we are now in a position to know that your uncle was cheated."

"And do you know by whom?" Albert asked.

"By the same man I have been after a long time—by Bradley Royston!" was the unexpected answer.

"Royston!" cried Albert. "Why he—he is the same man Frank and his chums are——"

"Exactly," interrupted Mr. Bullard. "I think we'll find more of a mix-up in this case the further we go into it. But one fact is established, Royston has the concession that belongs to your uncle, I don't know just which one it is, for I am not familiar with the layout in the Zone, but that it is one of the valuable ones I am certain."

"And I know that!" cried Albert. "It's the 'Wild Life' concession. It must be. And it is a large and valuable one. But how do you know that Royston cheated my uncle out of it?"

"By this," answered Mr. Bullard, and he showed a written receipt from Royston to Mr. Jackson for certain rights and interests in space in the amusement Zone of the Panama Exposition.

With this as a starting point it was easy to piece together the plot by which Royston had obtained possession of the valuable privilege, or concession, of conducting an exhibition at the fair. He had agreed to buy it from Mr. Jackson, but, instead, had made a sort of transfer and trade, giving worthless securities in exchange, so that he was not out of pocket a cent, but obtained a valuable right for practically nothing.

"And what is the next thing to be done?" asked Albert, when this much had been settled. "Are you going to arrest Royston?"

"I wish I could," Mr. Bullard answered, "but, unfortunately, though I believe him guilty, I have not enough legal proof. I need more and it will become your duty, I think, to get it."

"I? How can I get proof?"

"By seeing Royston, perhaps. He may be startled into giving the whole scheme away. Does he know you are with Frank Durham's party?"

"I think not. In fact, I have kept out of his way since my uncle came back from New York in such bad shape."

"That was wise. You can now unexpectedly confront Royston, and, in his surprise, he may blurt out part of the truth. You are not afraid to meet him; are you?"

"Afraid? I should say not!" cried Albert. He was his old self again, and all trace of the timid, shrinking youth, who had almost given his life away needlessly, was gone.

"Then I'll arrange for you to go pay him a visit," said the government man. "Hello, I think our friends are coming back."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and the three chums entered. That they were surprised at the news Mr. Bullard and Albert told them can well be imagined.

"And we had a sort of adventure ourselves," said Pep, as he detailed the talk with Royston.

"He's getting desperate," said Mr. Bullard. "He'll make a break soon, and then we'll have him."

"And so your uncle owns that 'Wild Life' concession, and not Royston?" asked Randy of Albert.

"So it seems. I do hope we can get it back for him."

"It might help to bring back his mind if he could realize that he had not lost everything," observed Pep. "I have heard of such cases."

"Yes, it might," agreed Mr. Bullard. "But it is one thing to know that Royston has illegal possession of the concession, but quite another matter to get it away from him. However, we'll have a try at it."

"He certainly is down on us," remarked Frank. "I don't believe it would be wise for us to tackle him again."

"No, I intend having Albert do it," Mr. Bullard said. "He can do it better than any of us, as he legally represents his uncle. And, in fact, Albert is really part owner of that concession, since part of his money went into the purchase of it."

"Hurray!" cried Pep. "If we can't have a motion picture show we can at least help Al run the jungle life exhibit."

"We haven't gotten the concession away from Royston yet," declared Frank, grimly.

Further search of the papers in Mr. Jackson's trunk revealed more duplicity on the part of Royston, and a plan was quickly drawn up by which it was hoped to make him render back to the real owners the concession of which he had cheated them.

"And now I want you to go to Royston, Albert," said Mr. Bullard, "and make a formal demand on him for a surrender of his ownership."

"Suppose he refuses?"

"Well, I expect that. But that will put us legally in line for the next step. Take a witness with you, but not one of the chums. That might only complicate matters."

"I'd better take a lawyer," suggested Albert.

"Well, yes, perhaps that would be a good idea. I know a bright young fellow who has done some work for me."

Accordingly, a little later, Albert, accompanied by a rising young lawyer, started for Royston's office, for he had of late made his headquarters at the Zone amusement place. Albert and his legal representative were provided with the necessary papers.

Royston was not in when they called, but his clerk said he was somewhere about the big building, so the two waited. They were not delayed long.

"I'll show 'em what's what!" blustered the red-faced man as he bustled in. "I'll make 'em stand around! I'm boss here and the sooner they know it the better!"

He threw his hat down on his desk, and, for the first time, caught sight of Albert and the lawyer.

"What! You here!" he cried to Albert. "What does this mean? What do you want?"

"I want the concession you cheated my uncle out of," replied Albert. "I know all about your swindle, and I demand my rights!"

"Your rights!" cried Royston, using boisterous language. "I'll show you about your rights! Huh! You get out of here," and, seizing a heavy paper weight, he made a rush for Albert.

## CHAPTER XX

### AT THE ASYLUM

With a bound Albert Jackson was out of his chair, and had grasped the back of it, intending to use it for a weapon. But Mr. Watt, the young lawyer, using great good sense, laid a restraining hand on the youth's arm.

"That won't do," he said, quickly. "We can't meet force with force—just yet. We must be diplomatic."

"But he—he——" Albert made a motion toward the heavy paperweight Royston still held poised.

"Put that down!" commanded Mr. Watt, sharply. And, though Royston was much older, and taller and stronger than the lawyer, yet such was the moral force exerted by the latter that the bullying man obeyed.

"This is a fine how-d'-do!" he blustered. "Defying me in my own office. Now you get out of here—both of you!" he ordered. "You haven't any right here, and I don't want you! Get out!"

"We'll do that—willingly," said the young lawyer, calmly. "It is not from any desire for your society that we came, but merely to comply with certain legal forms, and make a formal demand in person."

"Huh! I've heard a lot of such talk as that," sneered Royston.

"Well, you'll hear more of the same sort before we are through with you," resumed Mr. Watt, with a smile. He and Albert were standing facing the angry promoter. But they were not afraid. All Royston's bluff and bluster seemed to have departed.

"What is it you want?" growled Royston.

"My rights!" impulsively exclaimed Albert. He had been timid and shrinking following the disaster to his uncle, and, at one time he had been as "weak-spirited as a cat," to quote Hank Strapp. But now Albert seemed to have caught some of the energy of the motion picture chums. He faced Royston boldly. "I want my rights, and my uncle's rights!" he repeated.

"Huh! Your rights! You haven't any rights, that I know anything about."

"Well, then, my uncle's rights. Will you deny that he had some in this enterprise of yours?" and Albert looked around at the office of the concession, which was almost as gaudily furnished as some of the jungle pictures were painted.

"Well, your uncle did go into this thing with me, there's no harm in admitting that, and no crime, either, I want you to understand!" and Royston glared at the lawyer.

"Well, if there was no crime, then there will be no punishment," was the reply. "We only want our rights."

Again Royston blustered, but he was not as confident as he had been at first. He looked at the heavy paperweight he had laid aside, as though he contemplated using it after all.

"It has become known to us," went on Mr. Watt, "that you had some sort of an agreement with Mr. Jackson, the uncle of this boy. What the agreement called for we have not, as yet, learned. But it concerned the concession here, and, no doubt, provided for a share in the profits. Mr. Jackson invested his money, and——"

"Yes, he did, and then he lost it all!" roared Royston. "Since you know so much, maybe you know that! I did have an agreement with Jackson, I don't deny that. But he knew about as much of business as a baby. He wouldn't follow my advice, and he lost all his money in New York. He even mortgaged his share in this enterprise, and now he doesn't own a dollar of it—he nor his nephew there.

"Now see how you like that. Go on with your law actions, if you want to. I'm not afraid! I tell you I'm within my rights. Jackson can't claim a dollar from me.

"And another thing! I've stood all I'm going to from you. This is a private office, and I order you out! If you don't go the law gives me the right to put you out by force. If you're a lawyer you know that. Now you get out!"

Royston had worked himself up to a high pitch of anger. Albert looked at Mr. Watt, and the latter seemed worried. Certainly he was not prepared for such a strong denial on the part of the promoter.

"Are you going to leave?" demanded Royston.

"Since you force us to, of course," answered Mr. Watt. "But once more, I make a formal demand on you for an accounting of Mr. Jackson's rights."

"He hasn't any rights!" fairly shouted Royston. "He wasted them! Now you get out!"

Again he motioned toward the paperweight, but Mr. Watt was going to give him no excuse for resorting to violence.

"Come on, Albert," he said. "We'll go back."

"And you needn't trouble to come again," sneered Royston.

The lawyer did not answer him. He served legal papers on the promoter and then, together, in silence, he and Albert made their way out along the Zone. Then, after they had gone a short distance, the lad spoke.

"It wasn't any use; was it?" he remarked, sadly. "I might have known I wouldn't have any luck!"

"Oh, don't be discouraged," said Mr. Watt, cheerfully. "We lawyers are used to being beaten in the first round or so. This fight is going on, and we'll win in the end, I feel sure of it."

"What are you going to do now?" asked Albert.

"Go back and report to Mr. Bullard and your friends. They will want to be consulted on the next move."

They found the motion picture chums, with Mr. Bullard, Hank Strapp and Ben Jolly, anxiously awaiting them at the hotel.

"What luck?" asked Frank.

"None at all," was the despondent reply of Albert. "He drove us out of his office."

"The mean skunk!" cried the man from Montana. "I've a good notion to rustle over there with a rope, and——"

"Hold on," put in Ben, mildly. "You've given up being a cowboy, Mr. Strapp."

"Well, I've got the feelings yet," grumbled the Westerner.

"I'd like to have a go with that Royston!" exclaimed Pep.

"Better wait," advised Frank.

The boys and their friends listened to the story of the interview with the promoter. Then everyone looked to Mr. Bullard for advice.

"Well, I expected something like that," said the government agent. "It wasn't to be hoped that Royston would give up without a fight. Now, the next question is, what are we going to do?"

"Get Albert's rights!" cried Pep. "And Mr. Jackson's, too! Go to law about it!"

"Yes, but to begin a lawsuit that would be successful we must have better evidence than we have," suggested Mr. Watt. "Royston says he was associated with Albert's uncle, but that the latter lost all his money, and even his rights in the concession. We must either prove that this is not so, or else that Royston cheated Mr. Jackson of his money."

"And how can we do that, with my uncle in the asylum?" asked Albert, despondently.

"Maybe we can help some by going to the asylum!" broke in Hank Strapp. "Yes, I mean it," he added, as the others looked at him wonderingly. "Mr. Jackson may be able to furnish us with a clue. Oh, stranger things have happened," he went on. "I've seen heaps of folks outside of an asylum that ought to be inside, and lots of 'em who are shut up in insane hospitals have more sense than we give 'em credit for. I say let someone go to see Mr. Jackson. Maybe he isn't as crazy as we think."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Bullard said:

"I think that is excellent advice. Albert, you and I and Mr. Watt will go to the asylum, and see your uncle. Perhaps he can give us the very evidence we now lack."

A little later, the government man, the lawyer and the nephew of the afflicted man were at the insane hospital.

## CHAPTER XXI

### THE CONCESSION

"Yes, you may see Mr. Jackson," said the superintendent of the asylum to whom Albert and his friends applied for permission. "I need hardly ask you not to excite him," the doctor went on, "for you know in what state his mind is. And you can see him for only a short time."

"We will be very careful," promised Mr. Bullard. "Has he shown any improvement since coming here?"

"I shall have to refer you to the physician who has his case directly in charge," was the answer. "The reports show that he is doing well, and that is all I can say now," and the superintendent, having consulted a chart, to confirm his brief report, rang for an orderly to show the visitors to the room of Mr. Jackson.

"I am almost afraid to meet my uncle again," said Albert, in a low voice, as they went along the corridors. "He was so unlike himself when he came back from New York. He hardly knew me, and he acted so queerly. I really fear to see him again."

"It may not be as bad as you anticipate," suggested Mr. Bullard. "They do wonders in insane hospitals now, and many cures are effected. Hope for the best."

Albert sighed. It was quite a trial for a young lad to be subjected to, and only for the fact that he had such good friends in the motion picture chums Albert felt he would not have known what to do.

"In here," directed the orderly, as he opened a door. The room into which the visitors were ushered was a pleasant one. Flowers were on a table, and a bird sang in a cage. The apartment was simply but comfortably furnished. In one corner was a bed, and in a chair, near a window, sat an elderly man.

At the sight of him tears came into Albert's eyes. For he saw his uncle, and he also saw that a great change had come over him. No longer was he wild-eyed and disheveled. He was quietly dressed, and looked up from a book he was reading.

"Visitors to see you, Mr. Jackson," announced the orderly.

"Come in," said Albert's uncle, and his voice was calm. "You are strangers to me," he went on, "but I——"

Then he caught sight of his nephew.

"Albert!" cried Mr. Jackson, and, rising suddenly to his feet, he let the book slip to the floor, and opened wide his arms. "Albert! Oh! I am so glad to see you!"

"And I you, Uncle. Why—why, I don't believe you are——"

Albert was going to use the word "insane," but he stopped in time.

"Now keep cool," advised Mr. Bullard.

"Uncle, how are you?" asked Albert.

"Much better," was the unexpected answer. "This is a great joy to me. Who are your friends?"

The lad introduced them, but said nothing about their business.

"Yes, I am much better," said Mr. Jackson. "I know that something went wrong in my head when I met with all that trouble in New York. It has been like a terrible dream ever since, but now I am waking up."

"Then perhaps we can help you to wake up still more," said Mr. Watt. "I think I would like to talk to your doctor, though, before going into details."

"He will be here soon," said Mr. Jackson, with a calm smile. "He usually comes in at this time."

They talked of unimportant matters for a few minutes, and then the physician, who had direct charge of the patient, came in. The orderly had sent for him. He seemed to grasp the situation at once.

"Mr. Jackson is wonderfully improved," the doctor said. "His mind was only temporarily affected, just as a fever patient's might be. With care he will soon be himself again. He is now stronger, mentally, though physically he is quite weak."

"Could he stand it to be told some news?" asked Mr. Bullard.

"I think so, yes. If it is good news."

"Well, it isn't exactly good, but it may lead to good news. We shall have to ask him to use his brain."

"Well, that may do no harm. In fact, it may do him good to exercise his brain a little. Proceed."

"Is it about—Royston?" asked Mr. Jackson, eagerly.

"It is," answered Mr. Bullard, quickly. "He has cheated you and your nephew, and is in possession of the Zone concession. But we have no papers to prove that he has practically ousted you. Can you help us to get such evidence?"

In answer Mr. Jackson stooped over and began taking off one shoe. For one terrible moment Albert thought his uncle had gone insane again. But his mind was quickly set at rest.

From the shoe Mr. Jackson took out a thin bundle of papers.

"I shall be glad to get rid of them," he said with a sigh and a smile of relief. "They hurt me. Excuse me for keeping them in such a strange place," he went on, "but I had no other, and I did not know I could trust the kind persons at this hospital. There are the papers you want. I think they will prove that Royston has cheated me."

Mr. Watt and Mr. Bullard quickly examined the documents.

"Just what we need!" cried the lawyer. "Now I'd like to see Royston order me out of his office."

"But where were these papers all the while, Uncle?" asked Albert. "Why weren't they with the others in your trunk?"

"That I can't tell you," was the answer. "I only know that after I obtained the concession, and met Royston, everything seemed to go wrong. He got me to invest my money in enterprises that failed, and at last he drained me completely. He sent for me to come to New York, and when I met him there he completed my financial ruin. I came back practically insane. But, somehow or other, I managed to conceal these papers in a secret pocket in my trousers. I had them with me when I was brought here, and in some way or other they were not taken from me.

"But it was some time before I realized of what value they were. That was when my mind was recovering. So I hid the papers in my shoe, intending to use them when I was discharged."

Albert looked questioningly at the physician.

"Yes, your uncle will soon be able to leave the hospital," the physician said. "He is practically cured. His mental illness was only temporary."

"Thank the dear Lord," said Albert reverently, and the others echoed his thanksgiving.

A further, and more careful, examination of the papers Mr. Jackson had concealed showed that Royston was guilty of fraud and several other crimes; that he had absolutely no right to the valuable concession, which belonged absolutely to Mr. Jackson and Albert.

"And your fortune will be saved, Uncle Henry!" cried Albert, joyfully. "We'll get your money back, for the concession will be a big profit-maker, when we clean out Royston's fake exhibit."

Mr. Jackson shook his head.

"It is very good of you, Albert, and very good of your friends to take such an interest in me," he said, weakly. "But I shall never make use of that concession."

"Why not, Uncle Henry?"

"My health will not permit it. I am a broken old man. I shall never be what I was before. The concession may be ours, but we can not use it," he concluded, sadly.

For a moment there was silence in the room, and then Albert cried:

"Well, Uncle Henry, if you can't use the concession I know some very good friends of mine who can! Hurray! I see a way out of this after all!"

## CHAPTER XXII

### THE THEATRE

"Hush, my dear boy! Don't get so excited, if you please!" cautioned the hospital physician. "You must be quiet," but he smiled at Albert.

"I can't help it. I can't keep quiet when I think how this is going to work out," the lad gleefully said. "It's too good to be true."

Mr. Bullard and the young lawyer looked a bit doubtful.

"Well, Albert, I don't exactly understand you," spoke Mr. Jackson, slowly, and there was weariness in his voice. "I had no idea I could ever get back from that cheat and scoundrel what he took from me. Now you say I can, sir?" and he looked at Mr. Watt.

"I am sure of it—yes, Mr. Jackson."

"Well, now that I can, I have no use for it. It would be impossible for me to run at the concession the exhibition I contemplated. I must give it up."

"You mean you will sell out; don't you, Uncle?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it will come to that, Albert. But I won't sell out to Royston. In fact, he has no money except that which he obtained by swindling me. And I don't know who else would buy my rights."

"Oh, there will be plenty of purchasers, Uncle Henry, but I'll have a say in that," said Albert. "I have some money invested in it; haven't I?"

"Yes, and it was the thought of having lost your funds, as well as my own, that made something seem to snap in my brain," spoke Mr. Jackson. "I shall never forget it."

"Well, don't dwell on it now," advised the doctor. "Remember that you are going to get well."

"But what is your plan, Albert? You haven't told us," his uncle asked.

"I'll sell our concession to my very good friends, the motion picture chums!" cried Albert. "They have been trying to get a place in the Zone, but can't. They are up against it, as Hank Strapp says. Now I can offer them a way out, and, at the same time, repay them for some of their kindness to me. It's the best thing that has come out of all this trouble."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Bullard. "For the moment I forgot about the boys. This concession will be the very thing for them."

"There is no doubt but what I really have rights in it; is there?" asked Mr. Jackson, looking at the papers he had taken from his shoe.

"Not the least," Mr. Watt assured him. "We will oust Royston bag and baggage!"

"Then, Albert, your friends may have the concession," said his uncle. "I am too weak and broken to think of working it."

"And now I fear I must ask you to leave," observed the physician. "My patient must become quieted if he is to make a good recovery, and leave us."

"Will he really be able to go away from here?" Albert wanted to know.

"He will, indeed, and that within a few weeks. He is completely cured. His mind was never anything but temporarily deranged," the doctor went on, when the visitors were going down the corridor. "All he needs now is to have his bodily strength built up, and we can easily do that. He will soon be with you again, though of course he cannot attend actively to business."

"He won't have to," said Mr. Bullard. "He can sell his concession for enough to keep him comfortable until he can become active again. That is, if the motion picture chums will buy it."

"I'm sure we can make a deal," spoke Albert. "I'll give them a bargain in my share."

And you may be sure, when Frank and his chums heard of the chance that had so unexpectedly come to them, they were wild with delight.

"A motion picture theatre in the Panama Exposition Zone at last!" cried Frank.

"Hurray!" shouted Pep, throwing his hat up so that it caught in the electric light chandelier of their sitting room.

"And now we can get busy at last, and not lose all we paid for an option on those valuable films," spoke Randy.

"Good news!" declared Hank Strapp of Montana. "Good news, by heck!"

"And I can have my new pipe organ at last," sighed Ben Jolly. "I'm going to order it now, if I may. I want one with the latest attachments, and I think I can pick up a second-hand one at a bargain."

"Better wait until we oust Royston," suggested Frank.

There was really not much trouble over that. Of course Royston and his cronies blustered and fought, for he had several unprincipled men in with him. He declared he would resist to the end, and his lawyers did begin a fight.

"But they haven't a leg to stand on," said Mr. Watt. "We have everything our own way. Not a court in the land but what would say Mr. Jackson had been cheated by this rascally scoundrel."

The matter was prepared for presentation to a judge, but before the case came to trial the defense withdrew. There was an informal court proceeding, and when Royston was called forward to present his side there was no answer.

"Is this case going to be defended?" the judge asked.

"It is not, your honor," answered a lawyer for the opposing side. "I have just received word that my client, Royston, has left San Francisco suddenly. I am through with him. The case will not be contested."

"Then we get the concession!" cried Albert. "That is, you boys do, for my uncle and I are going to turn it over to you."

"And it will be the Zone Theatre!" exclaimed Frank, "for we will accept your very kind offer."

"And the first thing we'll do!" declared Hank Strapp, "is to rip out that fake wild animal jungle exhibit, and get ready to put in our scenes under the ocean, and marvels of wild animal life films. It will take some changes, though, but we have time enough before the exposition opens."

"We ought to go and thank Mr. Jackson," suggested Pep. "Only for him we wouldn't have a place in the Zone."

"That's right," agreed Randy.

"And I wouldn't have my latest pipe organ," added Ben. "I've got a dandy coming."

The legal formalities were soon complied with, and the Zone concession, that had belonged exclusively to the Jacksons, before Royston illegally obtained control of it, was turned over to the motion picture chums on payment of a certain sum. It was not a small sum, but they had counted on paying well for space, and knew they could make a good profit on their investment.

Meanwhile Mr. Jackson had been taken from the hospital, and installed in a quiet neighborhood with Albert. Then the motion picture chums were invited to call.

They came one afternoon, and were ushered into the presence of the elderly promoter who had suffered so much.

"Boys, this is my uncle," said Albert.

Then, at the sight of the man rising to greet them, Frank uttered a strange cry.

"Why—why!" he exclaimed. "That man—I know him—he—he——"

"And I know you, young man!" said Mr. Jackson, a flush coming into his pale face.

## CHAPTER XXIII

### THE THEFT

The others looked in amazement at the two speakers. Frank and Mr. Jackson seemed oddly excited.

"Have you met before?" asked Albert.

"Well, I should say we had!" answered Frank, but he was smiling now.

"Won't you shake hands?" asked Mr. Jackson, also smiling. "I believe I have never thanked you for saving my life."

"Saving your life!" exclaimed Albert. "I never heard anything about that."

"Nor did we," put in Pep, with a look at Randy.

"I told you about it at the time," said Frank, "but it is only just now that I know who the man is that I saved."

For, in that flash he recognized the man he had pulled back from being run down by an automobile on Broadway.

"It was that time when I had the row with Royston in the New York bank," Frank explained. "As I came out I saw a queerly dressed man about to dart right in front of a swiftly-moving automobile. I pulled him back just in time, and he hurried off. I thought he was a bit queer at the time——"

Frank stopped suddenly. He had not realized how it would sound to make such a remark about Albert's uncle.

"Don't mind me, young man," spoke Mr. Jackson, with a laugh. "I certainly was queer. I had just learned that I had lost everything, through Royston's scoundrelly acts, and that is the last I really remember until I found myself in the hospital. I suppose I did act queerly, and I might have been oddly attired, for I came from my hotel in such a hurry that perhaps I did not properly dress. Did I?" he asked of Frank.

"Well, not according to New York standard," was the smiling reply. "You had on one black and one tan shoe, and were without a collar or tie. In fact, you were—well, rather strange."

"I can well believe you. And to think it was you, of all persons, who should save me, and then so befriend my nephew. I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't try, please," begged Frank. "You have done more for us than we ever hoped for, selling us the concession. We are more than in your debt."

Mr. Jackson was introduced to the other boys, and there was a merry little party at the reunion.

"There's only one thing I regret," said Mr. Bullard.

"What's that?" asked Frank.

"That Royston got away. I have discovered new evidence that would convict him of some former crimes. Now I'll have hard work tracing him. He has given me the slip."

But the friends were not yet done with Royston, as they were very soon to learn.

With the motion picture chums in formal possession of the valuable Zone concession formerly belonging to the Jacksons, the boys were in for some busy times. So, too, were Hank Strapp and Ben Jolly. The latter, as might be expected, did little, however, but look after the organ, and the ordering of a new effect box, with which he could simulate almost every known sound that would be of value in a motion picture exhibition.

Meanwhile the wild animal exhibition that Royston had started was taken out. He had put no exhibits in place, though, and his scheme of decoration was modified to a great extent. Then two fireproof booths for the motion picture machines were put in the place, and a new kind of screen erected. The seating arrangements were changed, and more exits opened. In short, a most complete and comfortable motion picture theatre was made of the concession.

Frank and his chums worked hard. They obtained the exclusive rights to the expensive films on which they held an option, and as the weeks went past they got in readiness for the opening performance of their motion picture theatre.

Albert was taken in with the chums as a valuable helper, and his typewriting ability was most useful, as there were many letters to be sent to the various centers where the friends had business. Mr. Jackson continued to improve, though it would be some time before he had his whole strength back again. He lived a quiet life meanwhile.

The Panama-Pacific Exposition was rapidly nearing completion. Exhibits were being rushed into place, the grounds became more and more beautiful each day, and the artificial lakes sparkled blue in the golden sun of California.

Fountains splashed their waters, colored by myriads of electric lights at night, and flowers yielded their perfume to the balmy air. It was like some vast fairyland, and the boys had never seen such wonders. Their own affairs did not keep them from admiring the many beautiful sights on every side.

The location of their concession in the Zone was most advantageous, and they could have sold it several times at a handsome profit. But they were determined to give motion pictures as they had originally planned.

Their theatre was all but complete. Some finishing touches were needed here and there, but they could have opened in three days had it been necessary. Ben Jolly's organ had been installed, and he was getting it in tune. His new "effect box" was also ready for use.

Mr. Bullard had made strenuous efforts to locate Royston, but had failed. He received several false clues that took him out of San Francisco, but the government man returned each time to the "City of the Golden Gate."

"Somehow I feel that I shall find him here—that he will come back," Mr. Bullard said. "He will not give up so easily the concession which might have made his fortune had he been content to run it honestly."

"Oh, he'll never bother us," declared Pep. "He's out of the running. Don't worry about him."

"Wait and see," advised Mr. Bullard.

All was in readiness for the opening of the Zone Theatre. The reels of the valuable films had been put in the safe in the office of the playhouse, for the regulations of the fair called for a complete opening program, to be witnessed by officials, so that it might be certain there would be no delay when the public was admitted. The fair would officially open in about a week.

"Come and hear the organ," urged Ben Jolly, on the morning set for the official trial. "I'll give you a few tunes and new effects while we're waiting for the officials. It's early yet. This instrument beats the one in the Empire all to pieces!"

The boys, with Mr. Strapp and Ben, had come from their hotel. They slipped into the darkened theatre. Only a few lights were aglow, as Ben took his seat before the keyboard. Then, through the silence, came a sound as of a mighty wind rushing. It grew in volume until the whole building seemed to tremble. And then came a burst of melody, so grandly sweet and solemn that Pep felt tears come into his eyes. Ben was playing with a master hand.

Louder and louder grew the music. It wailed, it sobbed and seemed to cry. Then it sang, as a joyous woman might sing, clear as a silver flute. Next came a crash of military chords, as though a vast conquering army were on the march.

The music died away in a crash like thunder. And then, clear and sweet sounded the Vesper Hymn, growing fainter and fainter, until it died out altogether, only the echoes of the accompanying chimes being heard.

Then came a great silence.

"Great, Ben! Great!" cried Pep. "That will make 'em sit up and take notice."

"It was—wonderful," spoke Frank, softly. "We made no mistake getting that pipe organ."

"And wait until you hear some of the other effects," boasted Ben. "I can make rain so natural that you'll look to see if you can't borrow an umbrella and a pair of rubbers from your seat neighbor."

Ben Jolly had not been able to use the second-hand organ he had heard of, though it was in fairly good shape. So the chums had purchased a new one for him, with the latest effects. It was a great improvement over the one in their Empire theatre and Ben was delighted with it. He produced some wonderful effects with it, fairly astonishing at times.

While they were discussing Ben's triumph a messenger came to say that the fair officials had arrived, and were ready for the test.

"All right," spoke Frank, "we'll give 'em an exhibition. Give 'em some music, too, Ben."

"That's what I will—and some of the best. Oh, but that is a splendid organ!"

The motion picture operator had tested his lights and the machines. Frank went to the safe to get out the first reels of the new films, for only one or two thousand feet were to be run off.

As he entered the office, and twirled the combination of the safe a sudden fear came to him. There was something in the "feel" of the shiny knob that was not right. Without completing the combination, Frank threw back the handle. It worked easily. The safe was not locked!

The heavy door swung back, and Frank, after a quick glance inside, cried out:

"We've been robbed! The valuable films are gone!"

## CHAPTER XXIV

### RECOVERY

Pep, who had followed his chum, to help carry up to the machine booths the reels of film, leaped forward as he heard Frank's words. He, too, looked within the safe.

"Gone!" Pep cried. "The films stolen?"

"That's it," answered Frank, with a gesture of despair. "The safe has been robbed."

"Blown open?"

"No, the combination has been worked. Either by expert burglars, or by someone who knew the combination. I wonder——"

Frank stopped short. He was attracted by the look on Pep's face. They had both thought of the same thing at the same time.

"We'd better tell Mr. Bullard," suggested Frank.

"Sure!" agreed Pep. "But we've got to tell the inspectors that we can't give 'em any advance show to-day."

"We can at least prove that we are in working order," Frank suggested, "by running off some unimportant films. They didn't take those," and he pointed to several reels of ordinary motion pictures, which were stacked in the safe in their fireproof iron boxes.

"The thieves picked out what they wanted," Pep went on. "They knew what they were after."

The two young men looked about the office of their new Zone Theatre. A little disorder was shown, as though the intruders had searched about somewhat, hoping to find other booty after taking what they wanted from the safe.

Hank Strapp, who, with Randy and Albert, had been in the main auditorium, awaiting the return of Frank with the films, came into the office.

"I say, Frank!" called the Westerner, "they're waiting for you. The inspectors are in a hurry."

"They'll have to wait!" burst out Pep. "We've been robbed, Mr. Strapp!"

"Robbed! Well, if I get hold——"

"No use getting excited," spoke the calm voice of Frank. "I'd better explain to the inspectors, and get them to postpone our test. I think they will."

But Hank was more interested in inspecting the scene of the robbery than in the formalities incident to the testing of the films. The Westerner and Pep looked about the office while Frank went to explain their inability to comply with the test.

"Robbed!" exclaimed Ben Jolly. "Our films taken—eh? Well, I'm glad my pipe organ here is fastened to the floor, or they might have taken that!"

"Are there any clues?" asked Randy, for he and his chums had had, in times past, to do with unjust actions on the part of their enemies, and they knew the value of clues.

"There may be some," answered Frank. "I haven't really looked yet. I want to explain to these gentlemen why we will be unable to go on with the test," and he went into details.

The inspectors were very nice about it. They agreed to let Frank and his chums run off some unimportant films, which would demonstrate that the mechanical part of their equipment was in working order. Of course the under-ocean and jungle life films had been advertised to be shown at the opening of the theatre.

"You will, of course, have to change your advertisement, unless you recover the films before opening day," the head inspector said. "We cannot permit misrepresentation, and we know you, yourselves, would not be guilty of it. So all you will have to do will be to announce that the presentation of those films will be postponed for a time. Advertise something else, and we wish you luck in the recovery of those rare ones which have been stolen."

"Will you ever get them back?" asked Albert.

"Perhaps," said Frank, with a knowing look at Pep.

The test was concluded, with the showing of ordinary films, and Ben's playing of the pipe organ was pronounced a big improvement over the piano ordinarily used in motion picture playhouses.

By this time Mr. Bullard had arrived, having been sent for by Frank, and a notice had been posted stating that the showing of the advertised films was postponed for a few days. No reason was given, however.

"Aren't you going to notify the police?" asked Hank Strapp.

"Mr. Bullard will act as a detective for us," said Frank. "It isn't hard to guess who the thief is."

"Royston?" asked Randy.

"He, or some of his cronies," was Frank's answer.

A careful search of the office and the looted safe disclosed no clues of consequence. The strong-box combination had been worked by some one familiar with it, that was evident, Mr. Bullard said.

"And since you did not change it, after taking it over from Royston, it is but natural to assume that he, or someone associated with him, had a hand in the theft," he said. "Now the thing to do is to find Royston."

"And that may not be so easy," ventured Randy. "I wish this had never happened. It is going to spoil our evening."

"But Royston won't dare use those films," said Pep. "If he tries to show them or sell them he'll be found out, for they are registered."

"No, he can't use them," agreed Mr. Bullard, "and I don't believe he intended to. He wanted to keep you from using them. But we'll get after him. I have completed getting some of the government evidence and I can now arrest him on other charges—if I can locate him. I'm going to set several wheels in motion."

Frank's wisdom in calling in Mr. Bullard, rather than entrusting the case to the city police force, was soon shown. The Secret Service man at once started the long arm of Uncle Sam to work and in many quarters word went out to get Royston at any cost, not only on the chums' charge, but on more serious accusations of using the mails to defraud innocent persons.

Then the only thing to do was to wait. And it was, perhaps, the hardest thing the boys could have been called on to do.

There was much to be done, however, in putting the finishing touches on their Zone Theatre. They had to prepare for the opening of the fair, whether they had their rare films or not. Frank arranged a very good opening program, and Ben had enough music on hand to give several organ recitals. Hal Vincent was also sent for to add his entertaining specialties to the enterprise.

All this while the search for Royston and his cronies was kept up. Clues and hints came from here and there, but amounted to nothing. Only an organization like the Secret Service of the United States was capable of following all the loose ends, and this was done as much for the sake of the government itself as for the chums. They were lucky to have that aid.

It was two days before the formal opening of the fair, and Frank and his chums were all ready to put on their show, but of course without the big films. They were in their office, talking over their failure, and bemoaning their hard luck.

"If I only had hold of that Royston!" exclaimed Hank Strapp. "I'd tie him to a lariat and——"

There came a knock on the office door.

"Come in!" cried Frank, for messengers had been coming and going all day in connection with some matters that had to be adjusted at the last minute. A telegraph boy entered. At the sight of him the chums were all attention.

"I wonder whom it's from?" murmured Randy.

Frank tore open the envelope, and in a glance took in the import of the message.

"Hurray!" he cried. "It's all right. This is from Mr. Bullard. He says: 'Royston arrested. Films recovered. Go on with your big show!'"

## CHAPTER XXV

### SUCCESS

The motion picture chums looked at one another jubilantly. Their long period of waiting was over. At last they saw success before them. They had fought hard and long, and had won.

"Come on!" cried Pep impetuously, with something of a return of the spirit which had not been in evidence the last few days. "Come on, boys! We'll put up those fine big posters of the sea and animal films. For we're going to show them now!"

He started for the advertising room where the posters had been placed, after the theft of the valuable films.

"Not quite so fast!" exclaimed Frank.

"Why not, I'd like to know?" asked Pep. "We can go on with our big show now; can't we?"

"Yes, but we must wait further word from Mr. Bullard. I have no doubt but what he says in this telegram is true. We will get all ready, but we won't advertise those films unless we actually have them ready to slip on the machines. There may be a reel or so missing, though of course we could easily duplicate them. But we won't put up those posters until we have the complete reels in our possession."

Pep was a little disappointed, but he saw the force of Frank's reasoning. However, he had the satisfaction of getting the advertising posters out in readiness.

The motion picture chums did not have long to wait. There came another telegram from Mr. Bullard—a longer one—in which he said he had lodged Royston in jail, with some of his cronies, and was on his way back with the recovered films. The telegram was dated from a town about two hundred miles from San Francisco.

"He'll be here by night," Frank announced, looking at a time table.

"I wonder how he caught Royston?" spoke Randy.

"It doesn't much matter, as long as he caught him," voiced Hank Strapp. "The rascal will get what he deserves!"

It was anxious waiting. But finally Mr. Bullard's step was heard in the hall outside the office of the Zone Theatre, where the chums were waiting for him.

"Well, here I am, boys," he said, genially. "How are you?"

"Much better—sort of sitting up and taking nourishment," replied Hank Strapp, with a grim smile. The boys looked the question they hesitated about asking.

"And here are your films," went on the government man, as one of his helpers followed him into the office. "I brought them along with me in a taxicab, as I thought you'd be anxious to look them over."

"Glory be!" cried Randy.

"Now for those posters!" exclaimed Pep.

"We'll have to test the films first," objected Frank. "They may have been damaged."

So Pep had to restrain his impetuosity, but not for long. The recovered films were quickly reeled off before the small audience of the chums and their friends. Not one was missing and though one or two were broken, that was a common occurrence and they were easily mended.

"Now can I put out those posters?" asked Pep.

"Yes," replied Frank, and a little later the big signs, announcing that the Zone Theatre would open as originally planned, and on time, with the greatest films ever exhibited, were put up.

"And now can you tell us how you caught Royston?" asked Frank.

"There isn't much to tell," Mr. Bullard said. "Like most criminals he left one track uncovered, and there were so many of us after him that he could not very well get away. Then, too, the films gave us the best clue. He did try to dispose of them, and we obtained trace of him in that way. Then it was only a question of waiting until we could get those associated with him. That took a little time. But we rounded up the whole gang, and we have sufficient evidence against them to send them to prison for long terms, not counting your charge against them."

"Then he won't worry us any more?" asked Randy.

"No," replied the government agent.

"And he can't annoy my uncle?" questioned Albert.

"Indeed he cannot," was the answer. "We found out something about that insane commitment, too. Mr. Jackson never should have been sent to an asylum.

"Private treatment would have answered in his case," went on Mr. Bullard, "but that did not suit Royston's ends. He wanted Mr. Jackson out of the way, and took that means of bringing it about. Royston swore falsely, or the physicians never would have signed the papers. I am not blaming them so much, though they were blinded to the true state of the case by money Royston paid them.

"It is all right now, however, and your uncle need never again fear Royston or his cronies, Albert."

"I am glad of that. How different my feelings from those of the day I sat on the rock near Cliff House, and didn't care what became of me! And it's all because of you boys," he went on as he gazed affectionately at the motion picture chums.

"Oh, you did your share, too," declared Frank. "Only for you we wouldn't have this fine theatre, and be ready to open now with the greatest film ever exhibited—I mean the under-ocean views."

"If only the public think them as great as we do," remarked Randy.

"They sure will!" exclaimed Pep. And, though he was often wrong in his hasty judgments, he was right in this case.

The Panama-Pacific International Exposition opened on time, with the usual official action by those high in authority. The grounds, from the amusement Zone to the more dignified exhibitions, were thrown open to the public, and the throngs flocked in. And the Zone Theatre, with its great pipe organ, presided over by Ben Jolly, and the beautiful and wonderful films, was open on the stroke of time.

"Well, things seem to be coming our way," observed Frank to his chums as they looked from their office window, and saw a line of waiting persons in front of the box office.

"Yes, I think we can call it a success," agreed Pep.

And a success it was from the very first. The wisdom of the boys in showing rare, valuable and educational films was well demonstrated. The fame of the Zone Theatre spread as the days of the great fair progressed. Audience after audience waited outside for a chance to view the attractions. It was difficult to say which was the more appreciated—the under-sea views or the wild animal life.

"But if you ask me what brings the crowds, I'll say it's the pipe organ and the effects box," said Ben Jolly, with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "Why, I can even make you believe some of those elephants are trumpeting in the jungle, and as for a lion roaring—say, I scared a lot of women this afternoon. And as for those ocean pictures—why, when I imitated the surf breaking on the rocks to-day one girl screamed as if she had wet her feet."

"Well, it takes you to tell it, Ben," laughed Hank Strapp. "But, take it all together, I think we can say we're having a great success."

And so they were. It became a more and more pronounced success as the days passed. Mr. Jackson, now almost himself again, came to view the pictures, and Albert was one of the chums' most efficient helpers. Hank Strapp busied himself about many things, and of course we all know what Ben Jolly did.

As for Royston, and his crowd, they received well-deserved punishment, and our friends had nothing to fear from them.

And now that I have brought my heroes successfully through many trials and troubles, which they surmounted by not a little hard work and good luck, we will take leave of the Motion Picture Chums.

THE END

### Books by Victor Appleton

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.

### THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS SERIES

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' FIRST VENTURE

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT SEASIDE PARK

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS ON BROADWAY

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' OUTDOOR EXHIBITION

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' NEW IDEA

THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT THE FAIR

### THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE WEST

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE COAST

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE JUNGLE

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN EARTHQUAKE LAND

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS AT PANAMA

### THE TOM SWIFT SERIES

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER

TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON

TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS AT THE FAIR ***
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