“I don’t think a morning show would pay us,” suggested Vincent. “You might work in three matinees, though, especially when the beach gets more crowded.” Randy invited Pep to go down to the bank with him. They felt pretty good over the pleasant way things were going. “We’re in the swim, sure,” declared Pep, animatedly. “Yes, and drifting along most delightfully,” agreed Randy. “Sort of a howling capitalist; aren’t you!” railed Pep, as they reached the bank, and with a due sense of importance his companion handed in bank book and money at the receiving teller’s window. “You needn’t talk,” retorted Randy--“you’re ‘a bloated bondholder’; aren’t you?” Pep winced at the allusion. As they passed down the steps of the bank they came face to face with two of their business rivals. They were Peter Carrington and Greg Grayson. Pep carelessly and Randy rather distantly bowed to the two boys and were about to pass on their way. “Hold on,” sang out Peter, in his usual abrupt style. “Had quite a house last night; didn’t you? So did we.” “I heard so,” observed Pep. “What’s the matter with your private box department, though?” “Oh, accidents will happen,” returned Peter. “Say, look out for a big hit, though, in a day or two.” “That so?” said Pep. “You bet! Isn’t that so, Greg?” Greg Grayson assented with a nod. He looked mean and probably felt the same way. He had sense enough to realize that his past record with the moving picture chums, taken in conjunction with his present appearance on a new scene, showed him up in a poor light. “Yes, sir,” vaunted Peter, swelling as if some big idea had sprouted in that dull brain of his; “we’re going to spring a motion picture sensation on Seaside Park that will about make us.” “That’s good,” applauded Randy. “You deserve it if you have the right thing.” “Well, we just have,” boasted Peter. “It’s so good that I shouldn’t wonder if it put everybody else in our line clean out of business.” “Meaning us, I suppose?” inquired Pep. “Well, those who don’t want to get hurt had better keep out of the way,” advised Peter. “The National has come to stay, I can tell you that.” CHAPTER XVIII THE GREAT FILM “Durham, I feel that we’ve just got to get that film,” spoke Ben Jolly. He held in his hand a special letter from the National Film Exchange, and the lively piano player waved it about in a way that showed that he was unusually excited. “Yes,” nodded Hal Vincent, “this is one of those specials that come along only once or twice a year. The prize fights used to lead before people knew as much as they do now; but you take a royal coronation, or a national auto race, or an earthquake, or liner lost at sea, and that’s the big feature that the public run after for about a month.” “You’ve got to get in at them at the start, though,” suggested Jolly. “Always. The event advertises itself and the film men give it a new start. Why, to open up for day shows, this flood film would be an attraction all of itself.”