The motion picture chums at the fair — Reading Companion

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.