“What have you decided, Frank?” asked Pep.
“I think our duty to Vic is to do what we can for him,” was the prompt reply of the whole-souled leader of the motion picture chums.
“Yes, he is a good-hearted fellow,” declared Pep, warmly, “and he is worrying more than you think about those camels of his.”
“I can see that. I can see also,” added Frank with a quizzical expression of face, “that you are about as anxious as he is to play detective and get on the track of the animals.”
“I’ll do better than that man you sent out to find the camels, I’ll bet,” vaunted Pep. “Why, he just wasted time. Then when you gave him the tip about Brinton, he either missed his cue or botched it and scared away the game. No, sir—you give Vic and me a chance and we’ll find out where the camels are hidden unless the animals have been spirited away to some distant place.”
“It’s a bad time to spare you, Pep,” said Frank, in a business-like way.
“I know that,” responded Pep. “The last two days have shown what people think of the Standard. Wasn’t it just grand last night?”
“See you in a minute, Pep,” interrupted Frank, as Mr. Strapp called to him from the office, and he left Pep to think over how grand, indeed, had been the progress of the Standard since opening up regularly.
The week had started in with a programme of only two daily entertainments—a matinee from two to four and an evening bill from eight to ten. This was to continue for that week to try out the plan. The programme was quite a long one, but this very fact induced the class of people the Standard was reaching for to come from a distance to an entertainment lasting two hours.
There had been almost a scramble for seats the day before. The Standard, roomy as it was, had its auditorium packed at both afternoon and evening entertainments. The night before, Pep, as he now sat recalling it, fancied he would never forget.