THE BIRD HOUSE
Ben Jolly it was, more sprightly, more jolly-looking than ever, for he waved his hand with a genial smile to the children staring down the side street after the whistler. The other reached into the wagon. Instantly upon recognizing their old-time friend and helper the three chums started in his direction.
揌i, there!?hailed Pep, while Randy waved his hand gaily and all hurried their gait.
揥ell! well!?exclaimed Jolly, his face an expanding smile of welcome, extending both hands and greeting his friends in turn. 揑 expected to find you here and headed for here, but I did not expect to run across you so oddly.?
揊or mercy抯 sake, Mr. Jolly,?burst forth Randy, staring in amazement at the wagon, 搘hat in the world have you got there??
揥hy bird houses,?replied Jolly.
揃ird houses??repeated Pep, equally bewildered. 揥hat are you doing with such a lot of bird houses??
揝elling them, of course.?
Frank himself was surprised and puzzled. The wagon contained half a dozen tiers of little box-like structures packed close. At one side was a heap of poles the size of display flag staffs. These poles were stout and heavy, painted white, and about twelve feet in length. The houses were about two feet high and as wide. They were painted white, like the poles, and were exact models of a broad, low colonial house, even to the veranda. The roof was painted red, there was an imitation chimney and a double open doorway in front trimmed with green. All around this miniature house were little apertures representing windows.
A neater, more inviting little bird house for a garden could not well be imagined. As Jolly took a sample from the wagon the little children flocked about him on tiptoe of curiosity. There were admiring 揙h抯!?and 揂h抯!?揂in抰 they cute!?揥hat cunning little houses!?and 揙h, mister! are they for sale??揥hat do they cost??
揑f you will excuse me while I make a demonstration,?observed Jolly, 揑抣l explain what it抯 all about.?
揥hat a rare fellow he is!?remarked Randy to his companions, as they stepped aside.
揟he same busy, happy, good-natured friend of everybody,?returned Frank, with genuine feeling.
If there was a being in the world the motion picture chums had reason to feel kindly toward it was this same Ben Jolly. A free wanderer, taking things easy, tramping flower-fringed country roads, making his way, willing to meet any task that came along, Ben Jolly had dropped into their life at the critical moment when they were discussing the prospects of their first motion picture show at Fairlands.
Ben had been a Jack-of-all-trades and knew a little something about pretty nearly everything. Particularly he knew a good deal about the movies. He gave the boys advice and suggestions that enabled them to buy their first outfit at a bargain and the day the show opened appeared with an old piano which he had induced a rich relative to buy. From that time on Ben Jolly furnished the music for the Wonderland photo playhouse and, as told in our first volume, was the means of unearthing a plot against the father of Frank Durham, whereby he had been swindled out of a small estate.
Jolly took a sample bird house under each arm and entered the first yard he came to, the interested children keeping him close company. He came out of the first house with only one bird house, he came out of the second with none. Along the block he visited on both sides of the street Jolly disposed of just eleven of the attractive little miniature domiciles, distributed poles later to each purchaser and rejoined the boys.
揘ow, then,?he said, briskly, placing a little roll of banknotes in a well-filled wallet, 揾ow are you and what are the prospects??
揈xcellent,?declared Randy. 揝ee here, though, Mr. Jolly, will you kindly explain this new business of yours??
揝imply a side line,?replied Jolly, in a gay, offhand manner.
揃ut where did you ever pick up that rig and that lot of odd truck??challenged Pep.
揑 picked up better than that,?retorted Jolly, cheerily. 揑 ran across the finest advance agent in the business梐nd here he comes. You knew him once, but under his stage name of Hal Pope. He抯 Mr. Hal Vincent now.?
At that moment the whistler came into view, having circled the block. As he approached, Frank抯 face expressed pleased surprise.
揥hy,?exclaimed Pep, 搃t抯 our friend the ventriloquist.?
揝o it is,?echoed Randy.
揋lad to meet you again,?said Hal Vincent, and there was an all-around handshaking. 揧ou抮e all looking fine and I hear you抮e prosperous.?
揘ot so much so that we could afford to hire you for our programme at Fairlands, as we would like to do, Mr. Vincent,?replied Frank, with a smile.
Pep began to grin as he looked at Vincent, and the memory of their first meeting was reviewed. Then he chuckled and finally he broke out into a ringing guffaw.
揟hinking of my first and only appearance at that auction where you bought your movies outfit??inquired Vincent, with a smile.
揥ill we ever forget it??cried Randy. 揑 tell you, Mr. Vincent, if you hadn抰 made the auctioneer believe that two innocent bystanders were bidding against each other with your ventriloquism, and gained time until Frank arrived, we would never have gotten into the motion picture business.?
揑t worked finely; didn抰 it??answered Vincent.
揑 ran across Hal at Tresco, about thirty miles from here,?narrated Ben Jolly. 揌e was counting the ties in the direction of New York, having left the dummies he uses in his stunts on the stage for meals and lodging.?
揧es, I was about all that was left of the Consolidated Popular Amusement Corporation,?put in Vincent. 揑 was glad to meet an old friend like Ben. He told me there was the shadow of a chance that you might start in at Seaside Park and wanted me to come along with him. Then we ran across the outfit here,?and the speaker nodded toward the wagon and its contents.
揟hat was my brilliant idea,?added Jolly. 揑 call it a rare stroke of luck, the way we ran across the outfit.?
揌ow??projected Pep, vastly curious.
揥ell, a carpenter in a little town we came through had got crippled. The doctor told him he wouldn抰 get around without crutches for six months. He was a lively, industrious old fellow and couldn抰 bear to be idle. Had a lot of waste lumber and worked it up into dog houses. There weren抰 many dogs in the town, so his sale was limited. Then the bird house idea came along. The carpenter got the local paper to print a lot about the birds, the merry birds, that sing about our door棗?
揟hat梥ing梐bout梠ur梔oor!?echoed a slow, deep bass, apparently away up in a high tree near by, and the boys knew that their gifted ventriloquist friend was exercising his talents.
揟he carpenter,?proceeded Jolly, 揾ired a lot of boys to go forth on his mission of kindness to our feathery songsters. The campaign went ahead until nearly everybody wanting a bird house got one. Our friend found himself with some two hundred of the little structures left on his hands. He had overstocked the market, with a big surplus left on his hands. When we came along it was a sign in front of his place that attracted our attention. It read: 慣hese fine bird houses and a capable horse, wagon, and harness for sale for a mere song.?
揂nything odd always catches me, so I interviewed the old man. It seemed that he had received word only that day that a relative in another part of the country had left him a farm. He wanted to realize quick and he offered me the bird house outfit and the rig all for fifty dollars. I had only thirty-eight dollars, and he took that and gave me his new address. The arrangement was that if I was lucky in getting rid of the bird houses I was to send him the balance. If I didn抰 he was willing to charge it up to profit and loss. He抣l get that balance,?announced Jolly, with a satisfied smile.
揑t looks so, judging from your sales of the last half-hour,?remarked Frank.
揥hat do you get for the little houses, Mr. Jolly??inquired Randy.
揂 dollar apiece. I don抰 sell them, though梟ot a bit of it,?exclaimed Ben Jolly, modestly. 揑t抯 Hal. You ought to hear his whole repertoire梠rioles, thrushes, mourning doves, nightingales, mocking birds. He infuses the neighborhood with the melody and I slide in with the practical goods. And that rig梤emember the noise wagon at Fairlands, Pep Smith??
揇o I??cried Pep, in a gloating way棑I should say I did!?
The 搉oise wagon?had been introduced in connection with the photo playhouse at Fairlands and had become a novel institution with the inhabitants. A wagon enclosed with canvas, bearing announcements of existing and coming film features, was provided with a big bass drum, bells, huge board clappers and some horns梐ll operated by pedals under the driver抯 feet.
揧ou see this new rig of mine would work in on the same basis here,?proceeded Jolly. 揑f not, I can get more for the outfit than I paid for it, anyway. Now then, Durham, where can we find you this evening??
揥hy not sooner??suggested the impetuous Pep. 揥e抳e a great lot to tell you, Mr. Jolly.?
揂nd I抦 anxious to hear it all,?declared Jolly, 揵ut we抳e got our stock to get rid of. Nothing like keeping at it when you抳e made a good beginning; and this town starts out promising-like.?
Frank now decided that he would remain over at Seaside Park for another day at least. The appearance of Ben Jolly somehow infused all hands with renewed vim and cheerfulness. The chums were glad also to meet Hal Vincent. He had done them a big favor in the past and they realized that he could be of considerable advantage to them in the future in case they located at Seaside Park.
Vincent had the reputation of being an accomplished all-around entertainer. He was an expert ventriloquist and parlor magician, liked the boys and had told Frank on the occasion of their first meeting that he would be glad to go on their programme at any time for a very moderate compensation.
Ben Jolly burst in upon his young friends with his usual bustle and buoyancy about six o抍lock that evening. He merrily chinked a pocket full of silver and was all ready for what might next come along, and eager to tackle it.
揕eft Hal finishing one of the few full meals he has had since his show broke up,?reported Jolly. 揋ot rid of the last one of the bird houses梐nd, see here, Frank,?and the volatile speaker exhibited a comfortable-looking roll of bank notes. 揟hat was a fine speculation, the way it turned out, and leaves me quite in funds. Now then, what抯 the programme??
Frank became serious at once and all the others as well. He told his loyal friend all about their plans and hopes. Jolly shook his head soberly when Frank produced some figures showing that the amount necessary to operate a new photo playhouse was beyond their ready means.
揑抳e got nearly one hundred dollars you are welcome to,?reported Jolly promptly, 揵ut that抯 about my limit. You see, when I got the money to buy that piano and the 憂oise wagon?I practically sold my prospects for a last mess of pottage. I抦 willing to pitch in and live 抦ost any way to give the new show a start, but when it comes to raising the extra five hundred dollars needed, I抦 afraid I can抰 help you much.?
Randy looked glum at this, and Pep was almost crying. Ben Jolly sat chewing a toothpick vigorously, his thinking cap on.
揚erhaps we had better give up the idea of coming to Seaside Park until we are a little stronger in a money way棗?Frank had begun, when there was an interruption.
揝omeone to see Mr. Frank Durham,?announced a bellboy, appearing in the open doorway.
Frank arose from his chair promptly and went out into the corridor.
揑n the ladies?parlor, sir,?added the bellboy, and Frank went down the stairs, wondering who this unexpected visitor could be.