The motion picture chums at Seaside Park : $b or, The rival photo theatres of the boardwalkAppleton, Victor
General
The motion picture chums at Seaside Park : $b or, The rival photo theatres of the boardwalk
Appleton, Victor
Motion picture theaters -- Juvenile fiction
“Not at all—but that isn’t it. See here, lad, because I’m supposed to
have a lot of money I seem to be a mark for everybody. I have been
unfortunate enough to have various accidents with my machine. A month
ago I ran down a man. About all he did was to stub his toe, but he’s
sued me for twenty thousand dollars damages and has a doctor ready to
swear he is crippled for life. Last week I ran over a valuable dog at
Seaside Park and the magistrate fined me fifty dollars for speeding over
the limit, and said if there was another complaint he would give me a
jail sentence. Ugh! fine thing to be rich; isn’t it?”
Mr. Tyson really looked so disgusted that Randy could not refrain from
smiling.
“The newspapers got hold of it and pictured me as a regular ogre. Now it
wasn’t our fault at all when this friend of yours got hurt this evening.
He had no business in the street—don’t you see?”
“Say, if he hadn’t got there where would that child in the baby carriage
be?” demanded Randy indignantly.
“Yes, that’s true,” agreed the millionaire slowly, “but even there they
could not legally hold us. The baby carriage had no lights on it. Let
all that go, though. This Pep was a brave fellow to risk his life for
the child, and I’m glad he did it. My lawyer, after the last case,
though, told me what to do in future accidents, so I followed his
advice. I captured your friend and I intend to keep him captured.”
“I don’t think you will,” began Randy, rising wrathfully to his feet.
“He’s a poor boy, but he’s got some friends and——”
“Pish! Don’t get excited. Keep cool, lad, hear me through. We rushed
your friend here, summoned the best surgeon in Brenton, and this Pep of
yours is snug and comfortable as a dormouse—in bed in the best room in
the house. I’m going to give him the best of care and pay him for any
loss of time he may sustain. Isn’t that fair?”
“Why—I suppose so,” admitted Randy. “Only—what does Pep say?”
“Well, at first he was going to fight us, lame hand and all. Then the
surgeon talked some sense into him, by telling him that if he would use
a little care and not use his arm he would be well as ever inside of a
week. If he didn’t, he may have all kinds of complications in the
future. To be frank with you, all I care for is to turn the boy out
sound and well, so he can’t be coming along later on with another of
those twenty thousand dollar damage suits.”
“Can I see him?” inquired Randy.
“You surely can,” replied Mr. Tyson with alacrity, “and I hope you will
coöperate with us in urging him to stay here and follow the directions
of the doctor.”
Mr. Tyson had not overstated the case when he told Randy that Pep was
well cared for. As Randy entered a great luxuriously furnished room
upstairs he saw his comrade propped up in bed, his arm in a sling and a
table spread with dainties directly at hand.
“You tell him to stay here,” whispered Mr. Tyson in Randy’s ear, and
left the two boys to themselves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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