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"D'jou hit him?" queried Higgins, gazing with interest at the proprietor's knuckles. "Yes. I swung for his jaw and went high. Teeth " Mr. Padden said, vaguely. He turned a shrewd eye upon Anthony. "I heard about the game to-day. That was all right." Kirk grinned boyishly. "I didn't have much to do with it; these are the fellows." "Don't believe him," interrupted Ringold.

"My company sent me to New York, and there, on inquiry, I learned of the Film Theatrical Company. I had letters of introduction, and I soon met Mr. Hadley. He seems to be in charge of this branch of the work I mean outdoor pictures." "Yes, that's his line," said Joe. "Mr. Ringold attends to the dramatic end of it. We have done work for both branches." "So I was told," went on Mr. Alcando.

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 were settled in a large, comfortable house, close to the beach. "And now for some rehearsals," said Mr. Ringold, one morning. "One of the scenes calls for a shipwrecked man coming ashore in a small boat.

Ringold rose in turn and lurched ponderously toward the door, but Kirk stepped in front of him with a sharp word: "Wait! I'll manage this." "Lemme go," expostulated the centre-rush. "Locke's a good fellow and this man wants to trim him." "No, no! Sit down!" Ringold obeyed. "If he wants to join us, we'll have him come up." "What?" cried Locke, leaping nervously from his chair. "Don't do that.

"Then it's all settled," went on Mr. Ringold. "It is understood, Joe, that you can have considerable time, if you need it, to locate your father. The dramas I intend to film will extend over a considerable time, and they can be made whenever it is most convenient. After all, I think it is a good thing that we are going to the Southern California coast.

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Ringold, "and I wish you all success." "It's going to be a dark night," remarked Blake, a little later, as he and Joe were on their way to the lighthouse. It was early evening, but the sky was clouding over and a wind was coming up that sent the big billows bounding up on the sand with a booming noise like the discharge of distant cannon.

"We want it to burn!" "Want it to burn?" was shouted at him, by the fisherman who had proposed the pump. "Be you plumb crazy? Come on, boys, form that bucket brigade. Some of you run that hand-pump over here where we can pour water in the tank. Stretch the hose!" "They'll spoil the picture!" cried Mr. Ringold, rushing about, and trying to keep the fishermen away.

I'll change names with you for a minute. Now, Ringold, go ahead with your story." Then, as the giant took up his tale again: "Listen to him, fellows; look pleasant, please. Remember you're not sitting up with a corpse. A little more ginger, Ringie. Good!" He pushed the button twice, and a moment Later the door opened quietly to admit a medium-sized man in white coat and apron.

"Boys, if you could only get moving pictures of the capture of the wreckers!" Thus exclaimed Mr. Ringold when his two young employees told of the plans afoot and asked to be excused from work a little longer. "It would be great," admitted Joe. "But we'd need a powerful light," said Blake, "and if we had that it would warn the men we're after." "That's so," spoke the theatrical man.

Ringold, a few days later, when the shipwrecked ones had been sent to their homes with the exception of Mr. Duncan, who remained with Joe. "Yes, all the dramas, and the storm and wreck as well," agreed Mr. Hadley. "But we'll never have such good luck again," predicted C. C. Piper, with a return of his gloomy manner. "I know something will happen to us on our way back East."