Frank drove the motor launch shoreward with accuracy and speed. The stout lady had shrieked and acted as if half mad until she had been assured that Peter was safe. She had to see with her own eyes that Peter had been pulled into the rowboat with Randy and Pep. Then she collapsed again.

While she lay limp and exhausted, the young lady with her mopped her head with a handkerchief and fanned her. The engineer of the motor boat had got near to Frank. He looked pale and distressed. He kept his eye fixed on the sinking motor boat for a time.

“That’s the last of her,” he remarked, with a sigh.

“Yes,” responded Frank, “we couldn’t do anything toward saving her.”

“I should think not. I tell you, if you hadn’t known your business I don’t know what would have happened to us. Mrs. Carrington was entirely unmanageable, her companion can’t swim, and of course I wouldn’t leave them to perish.”

“The stout lady is Mrs. Carrington, I suppose?” asked Frank.

“That’s right.”

“And Peter, I suppose, is the brave young man who jumped overboard with the float?”

“He is her nephew, and a precious kind of a relative he is!” said the motor boat man, and his face expressed anger and disgust. “He would smoke those nasty cigarettes of his and throw the stubs where he liked. Honestly, I believe it was one of those that started the fire.”

“He hasn’t shown himself to be very valiant or courageous,” commented Frank.

There was a great crowd at the beach near the shore end of the pier where the launch landed. The skiff holding Randy, Pep and their dripping and shivering companion glided to the same spot as an officer saw that the launch was secured. He stared down in an undecided way at the helpless Mrs. Carrington. Peter, safe and sound now, leaped aboard the launch with the assurance of an admiral.

“Hey, officer,” he hailed the man, “get a conveyance for the party as quick as you can.”

“Suppose you do it yourself?” growled the motor boat man, looking as if he would like to give Peter a good thrashing.

“Me? In this rig? Oh, dear, no!” retorted the shocked Peter. “I’ve got five suits of clothes home. Really, I ought to send for one. Don’t know what the people at Catalpa Terrace will say to see me coming home looking like a drowned rat, don’t you know,” and Peter grinned in a silly, self-important way.

“He makes me sick!” blurted out the motor boat man.

The young lady who was supporting Mrs. Carrington leaned toward Frank. Her face expressed the respect and admiration she felt for their rescuer.

“We can never thank you enough for your prompt service,” she said, in a voice that trembled a trifle from excitement.

“I am glad I was within call,” replied Frank, modestly.

“Won’t you kindly give me your name?” inquired the young lady. “I am Miss Porter, and I am companion to Mrs. Carrington. I know her ways so well, that I am sure the first thing she will want to know when she becomes herself again is the name of her brave rescuer.”

“My name is Frank Durham,” replied our hero. “My chums in the little boat are Randolph Powell and Pepperill Smith.”

“So you live here at Seaside Park? Where can Mrs. Carrington send you word, for I am positive she will wish to see you?”

“We may stay here until to-morrow—I cannot tell,” explained Frank. “If we do, I think we will be at the Beach Hotel.”

The young lady had a small writing tablet with a tiny pencil attached, secured by a ribbon at her waist. She made some notations. Then she extended her hand and grasped Frank’s with the fervency of a grateful and appreciative person. Then an auto cab drew up at the end of the pier, the officer summoned help, and Mrs. Carrington was lifted from the launch. Frank assisted Miss Porter, and Peter, apparently fancying himself an object of admiration to all the focussed eyes of the crowd, disappeared into the automobile.

“Hey!” yelled Pep after him, doubling his fists. “Thank you!”

The motor boat man grasped Frank’s hand with honest thankfulness in his eyes.

“I shan’t forget you very soon,” he said with genuine feeling.

“Did the boat belong to you?” asked Frank.

“Yes, I own two motor boats here,” explained the man, “and run them for just such parties as you see.”

“The explosion will cause you some money loss.”

“I hardly think so,” answered the man. “Mrs. Carrington is a rich woman, they say, and she is quite liberal, too. I think she will do the right thing and not leave all the loss on a poor man like myself.”

“Get the skiff back where you found it, Randy,” directed Frank. “I will be with you soon,” and he started the launch back for the spot where he had been allowed to use it by its owner.

A chorus of cheers followed him. Glancing across the pier, Frank noted the owner of the motor boat surrounded by a crowd and being interviewed by two young fellows who looked like newspaper reporters. One of them parted the throng suddenly and ran along the pier, focussing a camera upon the launch. He took a snap shot and waved his hand with an admiring gesture at its operator.

“Young man, I don’t know when I have been so pleased and proud,” observed the owner of the launch as Frank drove up to the pier where he stood. “I’m glad I had my boat at hand and as bright and smart a fellow as you to run it just in the nick of time.”

Frank felt pleased over his efforts to be helpful to others. He was too boyish and ingenuous not to suffer some embarrassment as he passed little groups staring after him. Such remarks as “That’s him!” “There he goes!” “Plucky fellow!” and the like greeted his hearing and made him blush consciously.

He found his friends down the beach, Randy laughing at Pep and joking with him, the latter seated on the edge of the boardwalk emptying the water out of his shoes and grumbling at a great rate.

“What’s the trouble, Pep?” hailed Frank.

“Trouble! Say, whenever I think of my chance to duck that cheap cad we took aboard the skiff I want to lam myself. ‘Jumped overboard to hurry for help,’ he claimed. Then found ‘that he had forgotten he couldn’t swim.’ Bah!” and the irate Pep slammed his shoe down on a board as if it was the head of the offensive and offending Peter Carrington.

“We’ll go up town and get you dried out, Pep,” remarked Frank. “I say, fellows, I’m inclined to believe that we’re going to find an opportunity of some kind here at Seaside Park. The little hotel we inquired at seems to be the cheapest in the place, and we had better make arrangements there for a sort of headquarters, even if we don’t stay here more than a day or two.”

“That suits,” nodded Randy. “The man offered a double room on the top floor for a dollar, and we can pick up our meals outside.”

The three chums concluded the arrangement at the Beach Hotel. Fortunately each had brought an extra suit of clothes on his journey, and Pep was placed in comfortable trim once more. Then they sallied forth again to make a tour of the parts of the little town they had not previously visited.

“Just look at the crowds right within a stone’s throw of the place we are thinking of renting,” said Pep, as quite naturally they wandered back to the empty store so suited to their purposes and so desired by each.

“Yes, and it keeps up from almost daybreak clear up to midnight,” declared Randy. “Why, Frank, we could run three shifts four hours each. Just think of it—twelve shows a day. Say, it would be a gold mine!”

“I agree with you that it looks very promising,” decided Frank. “We must do some close figuring, fellows.”

“Let’s go inside and look the building over again,” suggested Pep, and this they did.

“Why, hello!” instantly exclaimed the owner. “Back again?”

“Yes, Mr. Morton,” replied Frank, pleasantly.

“Shake!” cried the old fellow, dropping a hammer he held and in turn grasping a hand of each of his juvenile visitors. “You’re some pluck, the three of you. That was the neatest round-up I ever saw. What you been before? Life saving service?”

“Why, hardly——” began Frank.

“Well, you got those people off that burning motor boat slicker than I ever saw it done before. Look here, lads, business is business, and I have to hustle too hard for the dollars to take any risks, but I like the way you do things, and if I can help you figure out how you may take a lease on the premises here and make something out of the old barracks, I’m going to favor you.”

“We shall decide this evening, Mr. Morton,” said Frank.

“Well, you’ve got an option on the place till you are ready to report, no matter who comes along.”

“Thank you,” bowed Frank.

“Oh, I do so hope we can make it!” exclaimed the impetuous Pep.

They were hungry enough to enjoy a hearty meal at a restaurant. Then they found themselves tired enough for a resting spell. Their room at the hotel was a lofty one, but it commanded the whole beach and afforded an unobstructed view of the sea for miles. The chums arranged their chairs so as to catch the cool breeze coming off the water, forming a half-circle about an open window.

Frank had been pretty quiet since they had last seen the vacant store, leaving Randy and Pep to do the chattering. They knew their business chum had been doing some close calculating and they eagerly awaited his first word.

“Tell you, fellows,” finally spoke their leader in an offhand but serious way, “I’ve turned and twisted about all the many corners to this big proposition before us, and it’s no trivial responsibility for amateurs like us.”

“We made good at Fairlands; didn’t we?” challenged Pep.

“That is true,” admitted Frank, “but remember our investment there wasn’t heavy; we didn’t have to go into debt, expenses were light, we were right among friends who wanted to encourage us, and we had free board at home.”

“That’s so,” murmured Randy, with a long-drawn sigh.

“If we start in here at Seaside Park,” went on Frank, “we have got to fix up right up to date or we’ll find ourselves nowhere in a very little while. There’s electric fans, expensive advertising, a big license fee, more help and the films—that’s the feature that worries me. As we learned this morning, we have got to have the latest and best in that direction.”

“But twelve shows a day, Frank,” urged Pep. “Think of it—twelve!”

“Yes, I know,” responded Frank. “It looks very easy until some break comes along. I wouldn’t like to pile up a lot of expenses, and then have to flunk and lose not only the little capital we have but the outfit we’ve worked so hard to get. Truth is, fellows, any way I figure it out, we’re short of the ready funds to carry this thing through.”

Randy and Pep looked pretty blank at this. It was a decidedly wet blanket on all their high hopes.

“Couldn’t we get a partner who would finance us?” finally suggested Randy.

“Why, say, give me that chance!” spoke an eager voice that brought the three chums to their feet.