The last to come ashore was the captain and Mr. Duncan, and thus Joe found his father. The latter cleared himself of the false charge, and told how he had been seeking his daughter, who was said to be a missionary’s helper in China. Of course, Joe at once decided to give up his work for the Film Theatrical Company and accompany his parent on the quest, and Blake elected to go with his boyhood chum. But there were a few moving pictures yet to be taken to finish the work on the coast, and the boys agreed to do them for Mr. Ringold. This was what they were engaged on when the present story opens. “I wonder what it will be like in China?” mused Joe, as he and his chum walked on. “Oh, just like what we’ve read about, I expect. Men with pigtails, and women with fans, tea gardens, vases, dragons, and all that.” “We ought to get some pretty good pictures, then,” went on Joe. “That’s right,” agreed Blake. “I can hardly wait to start,” continued his chum. “To think that I’ve found my father, when I never expected to see him again, and that I’m going to have a sister. I’ll soon have quite a family, Blake.” “That’s what you will. Well, I wish you luck. I wonder what your sister Jessie will be like?” “She’s about a year older than I am,” remarked Joe. “Dad said so. And he said she was very pretty when she was a baby. Poor Jessie! To think that she doesn’t know she has a father any more than I did a few months ago. Won’t she be surprised when we come walking in on her, over in China, and ask for a cup of tea?” “I guess she will, Joe. Well, I’m going to pack up. We have only about a week more here, and then Ho! for Hong Kong!” “That’s right. Say, I’ll need two trunks to take all the truck I’ve accumulated since we came here.” “You’ll have to leave some of it, I reckon.” For a time there was silence in the rooms of the two lads, broken only by the noise they made in packing their trunks. Presently Joe said: “Seems to me Dad is a long while coming back from the postoffice,” for Mr. Duncan had taken up his residence with his son in the big theatrical boarding house on the beach. “It’s quite a walk into town,” observed Blake. “I’ll tell you what let’s do,” suggested his chum. “What?” “Let’s walk in and meet him. Then I’ll know sooner just where my sister is. I want to write to her.” “All right, I’m with you; come on,” and the two, leaving their packing half finished, started for San Diego, which was some miles from the little fishing settlement of Chester, where most of the films had been made. “That looks like him coming,” observed Blake, some time afterward, when he and his chum had walked on for a considerable distance toward the town. “It walks like him, anyhow.” “Yes, that’s Dad,” observed Joe. “Say, do you know he’s just like I pictured him in my mind, after we met Uncle Bill, the time he rescued us from those Moqui Indians. Dad is just as I thought he’d be; a bit younger, perhaps, but otherwise the same.”