The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER IX

  AT PRACTICE

  There was silence between man and boy for a space, and then Blake,understanding how hard it would be to keep the news from Joe, said:

  "I'll have to tell him something, Mr. Stanton. Joe will want to know whyhis father went away, and where. Isn't there any way in which we may geta clue to the direction he took?"

  "Wait a minute until I think, lad," said the old man. "It may be that wecan find a clue, after all. Nate Duncan left some papers behind. Ihaven't looked at 'em, not wishing to make trouble, but there may be aclue there. I'll get 'em."

  "And I'll call Joe in to go over them with me," said Blake. "He'll wantto see them."

  "But, mind you, not a word about what I've told you."

  "No, I'll keep quiet," promised Blake. "I'll call him in, while you getthe papers."

  Going to the door of the little cottage, Blake called to his chum.

  "What is it?" asked Joe, eagerly. "Was there some mistake? Is my fathersomewhere around here, after all?"

  "Well, we hope to find him," said Blake, with an assurance he did notfeel. "Look here, Joe, your father went away rather suddenly, it seems,but you mustn't think anything about that. He's been traveling all over,you know, looking for you and your sister----"

  "Sister?" cried Joe.

  "Yes, you had a sister, though I can't get much information about her.Neither could your uncle tell you, as you remember."

  "That's right. Oh, if I could only find dad and her!" and Joe sighed."But maybe she isn't alive."

  "It's this way," went on Blake, and he told as much of the lighthousekeeper's story as was wise, keeping from Joe all information about thewreckers. "Now, your father may have heard of some new clue about you,"continued Joe's chum, "and he may have gone to hunt that up," which wastrue enough, for with the warning that he was likely to be arrested as acriminal, there may have come to Mr. Duncan some information about hismissing children.

  "But in that case," asked Joe, "why didn't he leave some word as towhere he was going?"

  "He may have been in too much of a hurry," suggested Blake, realizingthat he was going to have considerable difficulty in keeping Joe fromguessing the truth.

  "Well, perhaps that's so," agreed the lad. "But maybe Mr. Stanton hassome clues."

  The lighthouse keeper came downstairs at this moment with a bundle ofpapers in his hand.

  "Here is all I found," he said. "It isn't much, but among the things heleft behind is the letter you wrote," and he extended to Joe the missivethe lad had penned in such hope at Flagstaff.

  "Poor Dad," murmured Joe. "I wonder if he will ever get this?"

  Together he and Blake looked over the documents. As the keeper had said,there was not much. Some memoranda, evidently made as different cluescame to him; paid bills, some business letters, a few notes, and thatwas all.

  "What's this?" exclaimed Blake, as he read one letter. "It seems to befrom some shipping agent in San Francisco, saying he can place--why,Joe, it's to your father, and it says he can have a place as mate anytime he wants it. Was he a sailor?" he asked, eagerly, turning to thekeeper.

  "So I understood."

  "Then this is the very thing we're looking for!" cried Blake. "Look, itis dated only a short time before he left. I see now," and he gave thelighthouse keeper a peculiar look, when Joe was not glancing in hisdirection. "Mr. Duncan got word that he could ship as a mate, and heleft in a hurry."

  "Maybe so," assented Mr. Stanton.

  "Perhaps he had some new clue about you, Joe, or possibly about yoursister," suggested Blake, hoping his chum would come to take this view.

  "Maybe," assented Joe. "But it's queer he didn't leave some word, ortell someone he was going."

  "He may not have had time," went on Blake. "Vessels have to sail in ahurry, lots of times, and he may have had to act quickly."

  "It's possible," admitted the keeper.

  "Then I'll tell you what we'll do," continued Blake. "We'll go to SanFrancisco the first chance we get, and see this shipping agent. He maybe able to put us on the right track."

  "I guess it's the only thing to do," agreed Joe, in despondent tones."Poor Dad! I nearly found him, and then I lost him again."

  They looked over the other papers. None offered as promising a clue asdid the agent's letter, and this Joe took with him, also his own to hisfather.

  "Maybe I'll get a chance to deliver it to him myself," he said, with asmile that had little of hope in it.

  There was nothing more to be learned at the lighthouse. The boys left,after thanking the keeper, and promising to come and see him again. Asthey went out Mr. Stanton gave Blake a little sign, warning him not todisclose the secret.

  "Well, failure number one," said Joe, as they took a carriage back toSan Diego, it being rather late.

  "Yes, but we'll win out yet!" declared Blake, with a confidence he didnot feel. "We'll find your father and your sister, too."

  "I'll have more relations than you, Blake, if I keep on, and can findthem," said Joe, after a bit.

  "That's right. Well, I wish you luck," and Blake wondered if Joe wouldbe glad he had found his father, after all. "Wrecking is a blackbusiness," mused the lad. "But, like Mr. Stanton, I'm not going to thinkJoe's father guilty until I have to. I wonder, though, if the story isknown about San Diego? If it is I'll have trouble keeping it from Joe."

  But Joe's chum found he had little to fear on this score, for, ongetting back to the quarters of the theatrical troupe, the boys weretold that the next day they would all take up their residence in a smallseacoast settlement, out on the main ocean beach, away from theland-locked bay and where bigger waves could be pictured.

  "And there we'll enact the first of the sea dramas," said Mr. Ringold.

  "And all get drowned," murmured C. C., in his gloomiest tone.

  "I'll wash your face with snow--the first time it snows in this summerland--if you don't be more cheerful," threatened Miss Shay.

  "Well, something will happen, I'm sure," declared C. C. "When do wemove?"

  "To-morrow," said Mr. Ringold, while Blake and Joe told Mr. Hadley oftheir poor success in finding Mr. Duncan. The photographer, as did theother members of the company, sympathized with the lad. Mr. Ringold saidthat as soon as they got settled the boys could go to San Francisco tolook up the shipping agent.

  The transfer to the small seacoast settlement was a matter of some work,but in a week all was arranged, and the members of the company weresettled in a large, comfortable house, close to the beach.

  "And now for some rehearsals," said Mr. Ringold, one morning. "One ofthe scenes calls for a shipwrecked man coming ashore in a small boat.Now, C. C., I guess you'll have to be the man this time, as I need theothers for shore parts. Get the cameras ready."

  "I--I'm to be shipwrecked; am I?" inquired Mr. Piper. "Do I have to falloverboard?"

  "Not unless you want to," said Mr. Ringold, consulting the manuscript ofthe play.

  "Then I'm not going to, for I'll catch my death of cold if I do."

  "Hum! I'm glad he didn't have any other objections," murmured thetheatrical man. "This is going to be easy."

  The preparations were made, it being customary to rehearse the scenesand acts before "filming" them to secure good results. A boat waslaunched, after some trouble on account of the surf, and with the aid ofsome fishermen, "C. C. was finally sent to sea," which was a joke, asBlake remarked.

  "And now come in with the waves," ordered Mr. Ringold, who was directingthe drama. "Hang over the edge of the boat, C. C., and look as if youhadn't had any food or water for a week."

  "They say an actor never eats, anyhow," murmured Mr. Hadley, who, withthe boys, was ready with the cameras; "so I guess C. C. won't have topretend much."

  "Come on!" cried Mr. Ringold. "Hang more over the side of the boat."

  C. C. Piper obeyed orders--too literally, in fact. He leaned so far overthat, a moment later, when there came a particularly large wave, thecraft slewed sideways, got into t
he trough, and an instant latercapsized.

  "He's overboard!" yelled Miss Lee.

  "Save him!" cried Miss Shay.

  "Stop the cameras," came from Mr. Ringold. "We don't want that in thepicture."

  "Man overboard!" bawled the fishermen, who were interestedly watchingthe scene. "Launch the motor boat!"