Victor Appleton

“ Strangely enough, no effort was made to mistreat the boys or their companion. The Indians simply rushed over them and made for the pile of goods in the rear of the tents. They did not even seem to be after the horses.
"Stop 'em!" cried Blake. "They'll take all our things!"
"Our cameras!" yelled Joe. "They may break 'em!"
Hank had all he could do to restrain the wild steeds, which sought to break loose.
The rush was over almost as quickly as it had started. Off into the darkness disappeared the Indians, their shooting and yelling growing fainter and fainter. ”

“ The man looked around as though to trace the noise which had been made when Joe accidentally stepped on a stick, which broke under his weight.
"Don't breathe," whispered Blake, with his lips close to Joe's ear. "I think he's going to pass us by."
The man paused, seemed as if about to come directly for them again, and then dashed off to one side. He made a leap into the bushes, only to discover nothing, as his chagrined exclamation showed.
"I told you so!" growled one of his companions. "It was only the wind."
"The wind doesn't break sticks," was the snappish reply. ”

“ But this is a fierce storm!"
"Come on!" cried Blake to his chum, and they raced toward the little fishing hamlet.
"Say!" shouted Joe. "I've got an idea!"
"What is it?"
"The wreck—it'll come close on shore, the guard says; why not make some moving pictures of it? They'll be just what Mr. Hadley wants."
"That's it!" yelled Blake. "You've struck it. Go on and tell Mr. Ringold, Mr. Hadley and the others, and I'll get the fishermen. Then we'll go down the beach until we meet the life savers. It's a great chance, Joe!" ”

“ Joe often talked about the strange fate that had put him on the track of his father.
"I wonder what kind of a man he'll be?" he often said to his chum.
"The best ever!" Blake would answer; "that is, if he's anything like you—and I think he must be."
"That's very nice of you, and I hope he does turn out to be what I wish him to be. I can't even picture him in my mind, though."
"Well, I should think he'd be something like your uncle—even if they were only half-brothers."
"If he is, I suppose it will be all right, though Uncle Bill is a little too wild to suit me. ”

“ One of the burros, always an excitable, nervous beast, capered about and uttered a shrill whinny as if in fright.
Hank was out of his tent in an instant. Leaping to his feet he blazed away with his revolver. Its flash lit up the darkness, and was at once answered by half a dozen other flashes.
“Come on, boys!” yelled Hank. “They’re after us! I wasn’t mistaken, after all! I did see some of ’em sneaking around! Lively, now!” and he blazed away again.
“What is it?” cried Blake.
“Indians! They’re after our horses!” yelled the cowboy, as the two lads joined him. ”

“ He waited anxiously for the answer.
"No, lad, I can't rightly say I do," said the fisherman. "I know the keeper, Harry Stanton, and, now I come to think of it, I did hear the other day that he had a new assistant."
"That's him!" cried Joe, eagerly.
"Who?"
"My father, I hope," was the reply, and in his joy Joe told something of his story.
"Well, you sure have spun a queer yarn," said the old fisherman, "and I wish you all sorts of luck. You'll soon be at the light if you go right down the beach. ”

“ Nearer came the man, dressed in yellow oilskins, for the spray from the sea flew far inland, almost like rain. Joe and Blake had on rubber coats.
“What is it?” cried Blake, as the man came opposite.
He held his hands in funnel shape and yelled:
“A wreck—a big sailing vessel is coming ashore! Her masts are gone, and she can’t get off! She’ll strike soon. I want all the men I can get to help us with the breeches buoy. We can’t launch our boat—too heavy surf!” ”

“ Blake and Joe, working by turns, got some fine views of the launching. Then, getting into another of the fishing boats with their cameras, and with Macaroni to aid them, they prepared to go out to the fishing grounds, where the nets were.
"Say, this is rough, all right!" exclaimed Blake, as they found themselves in the boiling, frothing surf.
"That's what!" agreed Joe.
"Let me out! I want to walk!" pleaded Macaroni, who was not very fond of the water.
"You'll be all right in a minute!" called Abe Haskill, who was captain of the boat. ”

“ But nothing of the kind occurred, and finally the boys and their friends reached the coast, going to the boarding place they had engaged.
"And there's the old Pacific!" exclaimed Joe, as he and Blake went down to the shore of the bay on which San Diego stands. "It isn't very rough, however, and Mr. Ringold said he wanted tumbling waves as a background."
"It gets rough at times, though," remarked a fisherman. "Of course, if you want to see big waves you'll have to go beyond this bay. It's pretty well land-locked. Oh, yes, the old Pacific isn't always as peaceful as her name." ”

“ He did not finish the sentence, for just then Hank put away the weapon and soon the aromatic odor of burning tobacco filled the night air.
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed the lad. "I'm foolish to worry about nothing; I'm going to sleep!" and he turned over, and closed his eyes. But, somehow, sleep would not come at once. Even with his eyes closed he could fancy the figure of the cowboy guide sitting by the fire.
Blake seemed to be less uneasy than did his chum. If he saw Hank by the fire he made no mention of it, and from his tent came no movement that showed he was awake. ”

“ Come on, now; let's make this pillar a little higher, and the light will show better."
"Say, what do you imagine they are doing?" whispered Joe. "It's a queer game, Blake."
"It sure is. I've about made up my mind what they are up to, and yet I may be wrong. Let's wait here a while longer, and maybe we can pick up some information that will give us a better clue."
The men were now engaged in heaping more stones on the pile where the lantern had set, and were making so much noise at it that the whispering of the boys could not be heard. ”

“ Joe came walking toward his chum. His face showed his disappointment so unmistakably that Blake called out:
"What's the matter, Joe?"
"He's gone—he isn't here! He never got my letter!"
"Where has he gone?" asked Blake, always practical.
"I—I don't know. I didn't ask."
"Look here, Joe!" exclaimed his chum. "I guess you're too excited over this. You let me make some inquiries for you. Suppose he has gone? We may be able to trace him. Men in the lighthouse service get transferred from one place to another just as soldiers do, I imagine. ”

“ Suddenly one of the Indians was observed to toss something from him. It fell to the ground and rolled to one side of the trail.
"What's that?" cried Joe.
"One of the boxes of exposed film!" cried Blake. "They know what we're after. Oh, if only it isn't damaged!"
"We can soon tell!" cried Hank, taking the lead. Then he yelled, between reports of his revolver:
"Hi there! you red beggars, give up! Drop that stuff you took from our camp! You haven't any of the grub left, I suppose, but we want those pictures! Drop 'em!" ”

“ AT THE LIGHTHOUSE
The two boys talked for some time with the old fisherman, and then Blake whispered to Joe:
"Why don't you ask him where the lighthouse is where your father is supposed to be, and the best way of getting to it?"
"I will," replied his chum.
"The Rockypoint light?" repeated the fisherman, in response to Joe's inquiry. "Why yes, I know it well. It's only a few miles from here. You can see her flash on a clear night, but you can't make out the house itself, even on a clear day, because she's down behind that spur of coast. From the ocean, though, she's seen easily enough." ”

“ Blake started. There was more to the story than he had suspected. He looked at Mr. Stanton, and glanced out of the window to where Joe still sat.
"So that's why I say maybe it would be better for Joe if his father was dead," went on Mr. Stanton. "Disgrace is a terrible thing, and I couldn't bear to tell Joe, when he asked me about his father."
"But where did he go?" asked Blake. "Didn't he leave any trace at all?"
"Not a trace, lad—folks most generally doesn't when the detectives are after 'em. Hold on, though, I won't say Nate was guilty on my own hook. I'm only telling you what happened. ”

“ But, according to Joe, here, they weren't much more than what you boys went through with in New York, and getting those Indian films."
"That's right; we did have a time," admitted Blake.
"Well, I'm glad I've got my boy, anyhow," went on the former lighthouse worker, with a fond glance at Joe. "Nothing is worse than to have folks, and not know where to find 'em. I hungered and longed for Joe for days and nights, and now I have him. ”

“ The men well knew the way nearly to the place where the boys had discovered the wreckers at work, and so they would not have to rely on Joe and Blake to guide them until they were almost there.
"When you see that you are close to the place," said Tom Cardiff, "you boys go ahead, and we'll trail along after you. And keep mighty quiet, too. If we can catch these fellows actually in the act of showing a false light, so much better for the chances of convicting them." ”

“ There is a secret about your father. I suppose you know what sort of men those were that we just got away from?" and he nodded in the direction of the hill down which they had raced.
"I've been puzzling my head about them, Blake," came the answer, "and all I can say is that they must be either men who are experimenting with a new kind of light, or else they are—wreckers!"
"That's it, Joe. They are wreckers, and they're plotting to lure some vessel on the rocks by means of false lights."
"The scoundrels!" burst out Joe. "We've got to spoil their wicked game." ”

“ Every one of those films we worked so hard to get is gone!"
"But what could the Indians want with them?" asked Joe. "They don't know how to develop 'em, and, even if they did, they would be of no use. They can't know what they are, but if the least ray of light gets into the boxes it means that the films are ruined!"
"That's right," assented Blake, hopelessly. "What can we do?"
"They probably didn't know they were taking your films, boys," spoke Hank, who had finished making fast the horses. ”

“ As they were hungry they sought out a fisherman's cottage, where, for a small sum, they had a fine meal. Starting out again, they turned an intervening point of land about three o'clock, and then came in view of a lighthouse, located on a pile of rocks, not far from the high-water mark.
"That's the place," said Blake, in a low voice.
"Yes," agreed Joe. "It looks comfortable and homelike, too."
Back of the lighthouse was a small garden, and also a flower bed, and a man could be seen working there. His back was toward the boys. ”

“ But if they come, I'll be ready for 'em!" he cried, as he took down an old-fashioned musket from the wall. "I'll stand by to repel boarders!" he exclaimed, holding the weapon above his head, and then sighting it at an imaginary enemy.
"I'll call my assistant," he went on. "Tom Cardiff is as sturdy a lad as you'd wish to see. He can get one of the men from the life saving station, and with a couple of the government secret service officers you ought to be able to get those wreckers, don't you think?"
"Sure!" cried Joe.
"Did you mean for us to help catch 'em?" asked Blake. ”

“ The work of making the preliminary scenes of the sea drama were under way. It took the best part of three weeks to get what was needed, for Mr. Ringold was very particular, and insisted on many rehearsals, these taking longer than the actual making of the films.
Joe and Blake were kept busy, as was also their young assistant, Macaroni, and Mr. Hadley.
“Everything is going beautifully,” said Mr. Ringold one day. “If we could only have a storm and wreck to order, now, I would ask nothing better.”
“Yes, everything is nice, except that we’re being worked to death,” spoke C. C. Piper, gloomily. ”

“ Oh, life isn't worth living, anyhow!" and he sighed heavily and proceeded to practice making new comical faces at himself in a looking-glass.
"Well, I'm glad you boys are back," said Mr. Ringold a little later at the impromptu feast, at which C. C. ate as much as anyone and with seemingly as good an appetite. "Yes," went on the theatrical manager, "I shall need you and Mr. Hadley right along, now. I am going to produce a new kind of drama."
"I—er—I'm afraid I can't be with you," said Joe, hesitatingly. "I am at last on the track of my father, and I must find him." ”

“ ON A LONG VOYAGE
"This is a serious charge," went on the man in uniform, who was evidently from the police department. "We have had some dynamiting outrages here, and we don't want any more."
"Dynamite!" exclaimed the hotel clerk; "do you think it could be that, officer?"
"That's what it seems like to me," said the other. "I have investigated a number of infernal machines, and they all make the same sort of sound before they go off."
"Go off!" cried the clerk, while Joe and Blake were vainly endeavoring to get in a word that would explain matters. ”

“ With a quick turn of the ropes he had brought, Tom had the wrecker trussed up.
Meanwhile the others had been busy. The secret service men had each tackled a man, and had him secure by now, while Joe and Blake, by mutual agreement picking out another member of the party had, after a struggle, succeeded in tying him, too.
But the wreckers outnumbered our friends two to one, and some, if not all, of the desperate characters might have escaped had not reinforcements appeared. These were in the shape of four sturdy fishermen from the little colony where the moving picture boys lived. ”