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. I'd row you down in my dory, only I've just come in from
taking up my nets and I'm sort of tired."

"Oh, we wouldn't think of asking you," put in Blake. "We can easily walk
it."

"Some day I'll take you out fishing," promised the man. "And so you're
here to get moving pictures; eh? Well, I don't know much about 'em, but
you couldn't come to a nicer place than this spot on the coast. And you
only have to go a little way to get right where the real surf comes
smashing up on the beach. Of course, as I said, we're so land-locked
just here that we don't see much of it, even in a storm. Moving
pictures; eh? I'd like to see some."

"I guess you can be in them, if you want to," said Blake. "I heard Mr.
Ringold say he had one drama that called for a lot of fishermen."

"Me in moving pictures!" cried the old man. "Ho! Ho! I wonder what my
wife'd say to that. I've been in lots of queer situations. I've been
knocked overboard by a whale, I've been wrecked, and half drowned, and
almost starved, but I've never been in a picture, except I once had a
tintype taken--that was when I was married," and he chuckled at the
remembrance. "These movin' pictures aren't like tintypes; are they?"

"Not much," laughed Joe, as he and Blake moved off in the direction of
the lighthouse, calling a good-bye to their new friend. They had told
Mr. Hadley, in starting out that morning, that they might not be back
until late, for Joe had a half notion that he would try to find the
lighthouse that day.

"I wonder what I shall say to him, when I first see him, Blake?" Joe
asked, as they trudged along.

"Why--er--I hardly know," replied his chum. "I never found a lost
father, myself."

"And I never did, either. I guess I'll just say: 'Hello, Dad; do you
know me?'"

"That sounds all right," said Blake. "He sure will be surprised."

The walk was longer than they had thought, and when noon came they
still had some distance to go. As they were hungry they sought out a
fisherman's cottage, where, for a s