"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."
