“Now, then,” he said, briskly, placing a little roll of banknotes in a well-filled wallet, “how are you and what are the prospects?” “Excellent,” declared Randy. “See here, though, Mr. Jolly, will you kindly explain this new business of yours?” “Simply a side line,” replied Jolly, in a gay, offhand manner. “But where did you ever pick up that rig and that lot of odd truck?” challenged Pep. “I picked up better than that,” retorted Jolly, cheerily. “I ran across the finest advance agent in the business—and here he comes. You knew him once, but under his stage name of Hal Pope. He’s Mr. Hal Vincent now.” At that moment the whistler came into view, having circled the block. As he approached, Frank’s face expressed pleased surprise. “Why,” exclaimed Pep, “it’s our friend the ventriloquist.” “So it is,” echoed Randy. “Glad to meet you again,” said Hal Vincent, and there was an all-around handshaking. “You’re all looking fine and I hear you’re prosperous.” “Not 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. “Thinking of my first and only appearance at that auction where you bought your movies outfit?” inquired Vincent, with a smile. “Will we ever forget it?” cried Randy. “I tell you, Mr. Vincent, if you hadn’t 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.” “It worked finely; didn’t it?” answered Vincent. “I ran across Hal at Tresco, about thirty miles from here,” narrated Ben Jolly. “He 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.” “Yes, I was about all that was left of the Consolidated Popular Amusement Corporation,” put in Vincent. “I 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. “That was my brilliant idea,” added Jolly. “I call it a rare stroke of luck, the way we ran across the outfit.” “How?” projected Pep, vastly curious. “Well, a carpenter in a little town we came through had got crippled. The doctor told him he wouldn’t get around without crutches for six months. He was a lively, industrious old fellow and couldn’t bear to be idle. Had a lot of waste lumber and worked it up into dog houses. There weren’t 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——”