“Boys, this is just the spot we are looking for!”

“Yes, I am sure a good photo playhouse on this boardwalk would pay.”

It was Frank Durham who made the first declaration and his chum and young partner, Randy Powell, who echoed it. Both looked like lads in business earnestly looking for something they wanted, and determined to find it. Then the third member of the little group glanced where his companions were gazing. He was Pepperill Smith, and he burst forth in his enthusiastic way:

“The very thing!”

The three chums had arrived at Seaside Park only that morning. Their home was at Fairlands, one hundred and fifty miles west. Everything was new to them and there was certainly enough variety, excitement and commotion to satisfy any lively lad. They had, however, come for something else than pleasure. They had a distinct purpose in view, and Frank’s remarks brought it up.

Seaside Park was a very popular ocean resort. It was a trim little town with a normal population of less than three thousand souls. In the summer season, however, it provided for over ten times that number. A substantial boardwalk fronted the beach where people bathed, lined with stores, booths, and curio and souvenir tents. There were several restaurants for the convenience of those who had run down from the big cities to take a day’s enjoyment and did not care to stay at the pretentious hotels.

The three friends had made for this part of the resort as soon as they had arrived. As they had strolled down the boardwalk Frank had studiously observed the general layout and the points where the pleasure-seekers most congregated. Randy was quite as much interested in peering in at the windows of the few buildings bearing “To Rent” signs. Pep made a deliberate stop wherever a show place attracted his attention. Now all three had halted in front of an unoccupied building and were looking it over critically.

“I say, fellows,” observed Frank, “this is worth looking into.”

“It’s certainly a fine location,” added Randy.

“Just made for us,” piped the exuberant Pep.

The building was frame and one story in height. It was of ample breadth, and as the brisk and busy Pep squinted down its side he declared it was over one hundred feet long. Randy went up to the chalked-over windows, while Frank took out a card and copied the name and address of the owner given on the rent sign.

“Hi, this way!” suddenly hailed the active Pep. “The door isn’t locked.”

“That’s great,” spoke Randy. “I want to see what the inside looks like.”

“Hello, there!” called out a man’s voice as they stepped over the threshold of the broad double doorway.

“Hello yourself, mister,” retorted Pep cheerily, “we were sort of interested in the place and wanted to look it over.”

Frank stepped forward. The man who had challenged them was in his shirt sleeves, working at a plank over two wooden horses mending some wire screens.

“We are looking over the beach with the idea of finding a good location for a show,” Frank explained.

“What kind of a show?” inquired the man, studying the trio sharply.

“Motion picture.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, I can tell you that,” declared the man, showing more interest and putting aside the screen he was mending. “Pretty young, though, for business on your own hook; aren’t you?”

“Oh, we’re regular business men, we are,” vaunted Pep. “This is Frank Durham, and this is Randolph Powell. The three of us ran a photo playhouse in Fairlands for six months, so we know the business.”

“Is that so?” observed the man musingly. “Well, I’m the owner of the building here and as you see, want to find a good tenant for the season. I’m mending up the screens to those ventilating windows. I’m going to redecorate it inside and out, and the place is right in the center of the busiest part of the beach.”

“What was it used for before?” inquired Frank.

“Bowling alley, once. Then a man tried an ice cream parlor, but there was too much competition. Last season a man put in a penny arcade, but that caught only the cheap trade and not much of that.”

Frank walked to the end of the long room and looked over the lighting equipment, the floor and the ceiling. Then he nodded to Randy and Pep, who joined him at a window, as if looking casually over the surroundings of the vacant place.

“See here, fellows,” Frank said, “it looks as though we had stumbled upon a fine opportunity.”

“Splendid!” voiced Randy.

“It strikes me just right,” approved Pep. “What a dandy place we can make of it, with all this space! Why, we’ll put three rows of seats, the middle one double. There’s all kinds of space on the walls for posters. I’ll have to get an assistant usher and——”

“Hold on, Pep!” laughed Frank. “Aren’t you going pretty fast? The rent may be ’way out of our reach. You know we are not exactly millionaires, and our limited capital may not come anywhere near covering things.”

“Find out what the rent is; won’t you, Frank?” pressed Randy.

“There’s no harm in that,” replied Frank.

He went up to the owner of the place while Randy and Pep strolled outside. They walked around the building twice, studying it in every particular. Randy looked eager and Pep excited as Frank came out on the sidewalk. They could tell from the pleased look on his face that he was the bearer of good news.

“What is it, Frank?” queried Randy, anxiously.

“The rent isn’t half what I expected it to be.”

“Good!” cried Pep.

“But it’s high enough to consider in a careful way. Then again the owner of the building insists that nothing but a strictly first-class show will draw patronage at Seaside Park. The people who come here are generally of a superior type and the transients come from large places where they have seen the best going in the way of photo plays. It’s going to cost a lot of money to start a playhouse here, and we can’t decide in a moment.”

“How many other motion picture shows are there in Seaside Park, Frank?” inquired Pep.

“None.”

Both Randy and Pep were surprised at this statement and told Frank so.

“The movies tried it out in connection with a restaurant last season, but made a fizzle of it, the man in there tells me,” reported Frank. “He says there may be a show put in later in the season—you see we are pretty early on the scene and the summer rush has not come yet. In fact, he hinted that some New York fellows were down here last week looking over the prospects in our line. I’ve told him just how we are situated, and I think he has taken quite a liking to us and would like to encourage us if it didn’t cost him anything. He says he will give us until Monday to figure up and decide what we want to do. There’s one thing, though—we will have to put up the rent for the place for the whole season.”

“What—in advance?” exclaimed Randy.

“Yes—four months. It seems that one or two former tenants left their landlord in the lurch and he won’t take any more risks. Cash or the guarantee of some responsible person is the way this man, Mr. Morton, puts in.”

“Humph!” commented Pep. “Why doesn’t he make us buy the place and be done with it?”

“Well, if we start in we’re going to stick; aren’t we?” propounded Randy. “So it’s simply a question of raising enough money.”

“Mr. Morton says that along Beach Row there is nothing in the way of first-class amusements,” Frank went on. “There’s a merry-go-round and a summer garden with a band and some few cheap side shows.”

“Then we would have the field all to ourselves,” submitted Randy.

“Unless a business rival came along, which he won’t, unless we are making money, so the more the merrier,” declared Frank, briskly. “We’ll talk the whole business over this evening, fellows. In the meantime we’ll take in the many sights and post ourselves on the prospects.”

“I do hope we’ll be able to get that place,” said Pep, longingly. “What a fine view we have! I’d never get tired of being in sight of the sea and all this gay excitement around us.”

The chums left the boardwalk and went across the sands, watching the merry crowds playing on the beach and running out into the water. Big and little, old and young, seemed to be full of fun and excitement. Early in the season as it was, there were a number of bathers.

“That would make a fine motion picture; eh?” suggested Randy, his mind always on business.

“Yes, and so would that!” shouted Pep. “Jumping crickets! Fellows—look!”

There had sounded a sharp explosion. At a certain spot a great cascade of water like the spouting of a whale went up into the air. A hiss of steam focussed in a whirling, swaying mass at one point. There was the echo of yells and screams.

“What’s happened, I wonder——” began Randy.

“I saw it!” interrupted an excited bather, who had ran out of the water. “A motor boat has blown up!”

“Then those on board must be in danger of burning or drowning, boys,” shouted Frank. “To the rescue!”