The Moving Picture Girls Snowbound

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It was hard work to tunnel and trench out to the barn where the animals
were, but finally it was done. They were found to be all right with two
exceptions. A horse had died from getting into the oat bin and eating
too much, and a cow was frozen, having gotten away from the rest, and
broken into a small outbuilding.

But the rest of the stock was in good condition, and, as Alice said,
they seemed almost human, neighing or lowing at the sight of the men.

"I believe they were actually lonesome," said Alice.

"Indeed, animals do get that way!" declared Mr. Macksey.

As the snow was so deep, no dramas could be filmed in it, so Mr. Pertell
and his players were enjoying enforced idleness. The time was spent,
however, in learning new parts, in readiness for the time when some of
the snow should have melted.

Many more paths, tunnels and trenches were made, but it was impossible
to go more than a short distance from Elk Lodge, even on snowshoes.
Later, when the snow had packed more, and a crust had been formed, it
was planned to take many pictures of various happenings in the great
piles of white crystals.

Three days after the storm saw little change in the appearance of the
country and landscape about the hunting lodge. It was snow, snow, snow
everywhere--on all sides. Within the house it was warm and cozy, and for
months afterward it was a pleasant recollection to talk of the hours
spent about the great fire in the living room.

But in spite of the fact that his animals were safe, except for the two
that had died, Mr. Macksey seemed worried. Several times he paid a visit
to the cellar, or the store room, where the provisions were kept, and
more than once the girls heard him murmuring to himself.

"What is the trouble?" Alice asked him once, as he came up from a trip
to the cellar.

"Well, I'm afraid you folks will have to go on short rations if the
supplies don't come in soon from the store," he replied. "I've got
plenty of meat on hand, but other things are somewhat scarce."

"Then we won't starve?" she asked.

"Well, maybe not actually starve, but you may be hungry for certain
things."

"Oh, I'm not fussy!" Alice laughed. "I can eat anything."

The storm was so severe and so wide-spread, that, in about a week, there
was an actual shortage of provisions at Elk Lodge. The meals had to be
curtailed in regard to certain dishes, and there were loud complaints
from Mr. Bunn and Mr. Sneed, as well as from Miss Pennington and Miss
Dixon. But the others made the best of it.

"I wish I had never come to this horrid place!" exclaimed Miss
Pennington, when her request for a fancy dish had to be denied.

"You may go back to New York any time you wish," observed Mr. Pertell,
with a grim humor, as he looked out on the great piles of snow. It would
have been impossible to get half-way to the station.

Miss Pennington "sniffed" and said nothing.

But there was no actual suffering at Elk Lodge. Before it got to that
point Mr. Macksey hitched up six horses to a big sled and made his way
into town. He brought back enough provisions for a small company of
soldiers.

"Now let it 'bliz' if it wants to!" he cried, as he and his men stocked
up the storeroom.

CHAPTER XX

THE THAW

"Now for some hard work," said Mr. Pertell one day, about ten days after
the big storm. "I think we can safely go out, and make some of the
scenes in the play 'Snowbound,'" he went on. "There will not be much
danger that we will be caught in another blizzard; will there?" he asked
of Mr. Macksey.

"I should hope not!" was the answer. "I don't believe there is any snow
left in the clouds. Still, don't take too many chances. Don't go more
than ten miles away."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of going half that distance!" said Mr. Pertell.
"I just want to get a scene or two at some place where the snow is piled
in fantastic forms. The rest of the story takes place around the Lodge
here."

"Is it the one that is something like the story of Lorna Doone?" asked
Alice, who had been reading that book.

"That's the one," said Mr. Pertell. "And I think I shall cast you as
Lorna."

"Oh, how nice!" she laughed. "But who will be John Ridd? We need a great
big man for him!"

"Well, I was thinking of using Mr. Macksey," went on the manager, with a
look at the hunter.

"What? Me have my photograph took in moving pictures!" cried the keeper
of the Lodge. "Why, I don't know how to act!"

"You know how a great deal better than some that are in the business,"
returned Mr. Pertell, coolly. "Present company always excepted," he
added, as Mr. Bunn looked up with an injured air. "What I mean is that
you are so natural," he continued. "In fact, you have had your pictures
taken a number of times lately, when you and your men were clearing away
the snow. So you see it will be no novelty for you."

"But I didn't know when you took my pictures!" objected the hunter.

"No, and that's just the point. Don't think of the camera at all. Be
unconscious of it. I'll arrange to have it masked, or hidden, if you
think you can do better that way. But I have some scenes calling for a
big man battling in the snow to save a girl, and you and Miss Alice are
the proper characters. So I hope you won't disappoint me."

"I'll do my best," promised Mr. Macksey. "But I'm not used to that sort
of work."

However, when the preliminary scenes for the big drama were filmed he
did some excellent acting, the more so as he was totally unconscious
that he was acting.

Several days were spent in making films of the play, for Mr. Pertell
wanted to take advantage of the snow.

"It won't last a great while longer," remarked the hunter. "It's getting
warm, and there'll be a thaw, soon."

He proved to be a true weather prophet for in two weeks there was
scarcely a vestige of the snow left. It grew warm, and rained, and there
was so much water about, from the rain and melting snow, that it was
nearly as difficult to get about as it had been in the big drifts.

But the thaw proved an advantage in one way, for it opened up the roads
that had been well-nigh impassable, and mail and other supplies came
through.

The storm, while it gave Mr. Pertell a chance to make some fine
pictures, had one drawback. He was not able to send the reels of film in
to New York for development and printing. He lost considerable time and
some money on this account, but it could not be helped.

But with the passing of the snow the highways were clear, and traffic to
and from the village was made easy.

One day Mr. Macksey came back from town with a good-sized bag, filled
with mail for the picture players.

"Oh, here's a letter for you, Ruth, and one for me!" cried Alice, as she
sorted them over. "One for daddy, too! Oh, it's a big one!"

The moving picture girls were busy over their epistles for some time, as
there proved to be a number of missives for them, from relatives, and
from friends they had made since posing for the camera. But when Alice
read all hers and was passing some of them to her sister, she happened
to glance at her father's face.

"Why Daddy!" she cried, "what is the matter?"

"Oh--nothing!" he murmured, hoarsely for he had caught a little cold,
and his voice was almost as bad as it had been at first.

"But I'm sure it's something!" Alice insisted. "Is it bad news? Ruth,
make him tell!"

The three were in Mr. DeVere's room, where they had gone to look over
the mail.

"Oh, it isn't anything!" declared the actor, and he tried to slip into
his coat pocket the letter in the large envelope that Alice had handed
to him.

"I'm sure it is," she insisted. "Please tell me, Daddy."

The letter fell to the floor, and Alice could not help seeing that it
was from a firm of New York lawyers.

"Oh, is it the trouble about the five hundred dollars?" the girl cried.
"Is Dan Merley making more trouble?"

"Yes," answered Mr. DeVere. "He has brought suit against me, it seems.
This is a notice from the lawyers that if I do not pay within a certain
time I will be brought to court, and compelled to hand over the money."

"Can they make you do that, Daddy?" asked Ruth, anxiously.

"I'm afraid they can, my dear. As I told you, I have no proof, except my
own word, that I paid Merley. He still holds my note, and that is legal
evidence against me. Oh, if I had only been more business-like!"

"Never mind, Daddy!" Alice comforted him, putting her arms about his
neck. "Perhaps there will be a way out."

"I hope so," her father murmured, in broken tones.

"How did the lawyers know you were here?" asked Ruth.

"They didn't. They sent it to the apartment, and the postman forwarded
it to me."

"They can't sue you up here in this wilderness though; can they?" asked
Alice.

"I don't know anything about the law part of it," replied Mr. DeVere. "I
presume, though, that they can sue me anywhere, even though I have paid
the money, as long as Merley holds that note. They can make a great deal
of trouble if they wish."

"Poor Daddy!" Ruth sighed.

"Oh, but I mustn't make you worry this way," he said spiritedly. "I
shall find some way to fight this case. I'll never give in to that
scoundrel."

"I wonder where he is?" mused Alice. "We thought he was injured in the
accident, and would not bother you."

"This notice does not mention him," replied Mr. DeVere, as he paused
over the letter again. "It merely speaks of him as 'our client.' He may
be in the hospital, for all I can tell."

They discussed the matter from all viewpoints, but there was nothing to
be done.

"You will have to reply to the lawyers, though; won't you, daddy?" asked
Ruth.

"Oh, yes, I must write to them. I shall state the case plainly, and,
though, I have no proof, I shall ask them to drop the suit, as it is an
unjust one."

"And if they don't?" suggested Alice.

"If they don't--well, I suppose I shall have to suffer," he replied,
quietly. "I cannot raise the money now."

"Oh dear!" cried Alice, half petulantly. "I wish the blizzard was still
here!"

"Why, Alice!" cried Ruth.

"Well, I do! Then there wouldn't have been any mail, and daddy wouldn't
have received this horrid letter."

"Oh, well, it's best to know the plans of one's enemies," said Mr.
DeVere. "Now I know what to expect. I think I shall write to Dan Merley
myself, and appeal to his better nature. Surely, even though he was not
entirely sober when I paid him the money, he must recall that I did. I
confess I do not know whether he is merely under the impression that I
did not pay him, or is deliberately telling a falsehood. It is hard to
decide," he added, with a sigh.

Mr. DeVere sent a letter to Merley the next day, and a few days later an
answer came back from New York, from the same firm of lawyers who had
served the legal notice, to the effect that their client had left the
matter entirely in their hands, and that the money must be paid. Mr.
Merley, the lawyer said, preferred to have no direct communication with
Mr. DeVere.

"That settles it! They mean to push the case to the limit!" exclaimed
the actor.

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE STORM

"That's the way to drive!"

"Come on now!"

"Faster, if you can make the horses go!"

"Get all that in, Russ!"

It was a lively scene, for a spirited race in cutters was in progress
between Mr. Bunn and Mr. Sneed. It was taking place on the frozen
surface of the lake, and each actor had been instructed to do his best
to win. The race was a scene in the big snow drama, and it was being
filmed several days after the events narrated in the preceding chapter.

The thaw was over, there had been a spell of cold weather, and Deerfield
was icebound. The lake was a glittering expanse, and the ice on it was
thick enough to support a regiment.

"A little more to the left, Mr. Sneed!" called Russ, who was taking the
pictures. "I want to get a better side view."

"But if I go too far to the left I'm afraid I'll run into Mr. Bunn,"
objected the gloomy actor.

"No matter if you do--if you don't run into him too hard," cried Mr.
Pertell. "It will make it look more natural."

"If he runs into me--and does me any damage--I shall sue him and you
too!" declared Mr. Bunn. "This is a farcical idea, anyhow. You said I
might get a chance to do some Shakespearean work up here; but so far I
have done nothing."

"I'll see what I can do on that line next week," promised the manager.
"Go on with this race now. The idea is for you, Mr. Sneed, to be in
pursuit of Mr. Bunn. You must look as though you really wanted to catch
him. Put some spirit into your acting."

"It is too cold!" complained Mr. Sneed. "I would a great deal rather be
sitting beside the fire in the Lodge."

"No doubt," commented Mr. Pertell, drily. "But that won't make moving
pictures. Come on, now, start your horses again," for they had, so far,
been only rehearsing.

Finally Mr. Pertell was satisfied that the play would be done to his
satisfaction, and gave the word for Russ to start unreeling the film.

Away started the two cutters over the ice, and the two actors really
managed to put a little enthusiasm into their work. Then, as Russ called
to Mr. Sneed to edge over a little to the left, as he had done before,
at the rehearsal, the gloomy actor pulled too hard on one rein. His
horse swerved too much, and, the next instant, the cutter upset, and Mr.
Sneed was neatly deposited on the ice.

Fortunately he fell clear of the vehicle, and was not entangled in the
reins, so he was not hurt. The horse, an intelligent animal, feeling
that something was wrong, came to a stop after running a little
distance.

"Stop! Stop!" called Mr. Pertell to Mr. Bunn, who was still urging on
his horse, unaware of the accident to his fellow actor. "The scene is
spoiled. Don't take that, Russ. Sometimes I like an accident on the
film, but not in this case. It would spoil the action of the play. It
will have to be done over again."

"Not with me in it!" said Mr. Sneed, as he got up and went limping
toward shore.

"Why not?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Why don't you want to do this act?"

"Because I am hurt. I knew something would happen when I got up this
morning, and it certainly has. I may be injured for life by this."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the manager. "You're not hurt. You only think so.
Here, Mrs. Maguire, give him that bottle of witch hazel I saw you use
for little Tommy the other day. That will fix you up, Mr. Sneed."

"Humph!" exclaimed the "grouch." And then, as the motherly Irish woman,
with a quizzical smile on her face, started to the house for the
liniment, Mr. Sneed said:

"Oh, you needn't make such a fuss over me. I suppose I can go on with
this, if I am suffering. Bring back the horse."

The overturned cutter was righted, and the play went on. This time no
mishap occurred and the race was run to a successful finish.

"Now, Alice and Ruth, you will get into the larger cutter, and with Paul
for a driver we'll make the next scene," directed Mr. Pertell, and so
the making of the play went on.

The filming of the big drama was to occupy several days, as some of the
scenes were laid in distant parts of the game preserve belonging to Elk
Lodge, and there was not time to take the company there, and come back
for other scenes, the darkness falling early, as the year was dying.

There came fair weather, and storms, alternating. A number of fine films
were obtained by Russ, some of them showing weather effects, and others
views of the ice at the falls where the two girls and their companions
had been imprisoned in the ice cave.

It was on one comparatively warm afternoon that Alice, who had been out
in the barn to give some sugar to a favorite horse, came back and called
to Ruth:

"Let's go for a walk. It's perfectly lovely out, and it will do us both
good."

"All right!" agreed Ruth. "I've been sewing all morning and my eyes are
tired. Where are you going?"

"Oh, in a direction we have never taken before."

"Don't get lost," advised their father.

"We won't," returned Alice. "Don't you want to come, Daddy?"

"Too busy. I'm studying a new part," he said.

So the two moving picture girls started off, and soon were tramping
through the woods, following an old lumber trail.

"This leads to the camp of Flaming Arrow," said Alice, for they had paid
the promised visit some time before. "Shall we take it?"

"Yes, but not all the way to the lumber camp," objected Ruth. "That is
too far."

"Oh, I wouldn't think of going there now," responded Alice. "I mean to
branch off on the new path I spoke of."

The day was pleasant, but there was the hint of a storm in the feeling
of the air and in the clouds, and the hint was borne out a little later,
for a fine snow began sifting down.

The girls kept on, however though Ruth wanted to turn back at the first
white flake.

"There's going to be a storm," she declared.

"What of it?" asked Alice, with a merry laugh. "It will be all the more
fun!"

But a little later, when the wind suddenly sprang into fury, and lashed
the flakes into their faces with cutting force, even Alice was ready to
turn back.

"Come on," she cried to her sister. "We'd better not go to the snow
grotto--that was a natural curiosity I wanted to show you. But we'll
have to wait until another time."

"I should think so!" exclaimed Ruth. "This is terrible! Oh, suppose we
should be lost?"

"How can we be, when all we have to do is to follow the path back to Elk
Lodge?"

Alice thought it would be as easily done as she had said, and Ruth
trusted to the fact that her sister had been that way on a previous
occasion. But neither of them realized the full force of the storm, nor
how easy it was to mistake the way in blinding snow.

They emerged from a little clump of woods, and then they felt the full
force of the blast in their faces.

"Oh, Alice, we can't go on!" cried Ruth, halting and turning her face
aside.

"But we must!" Alice insisted. "We've got to get back. We can't stay out
in this snow. It's a small-sized blizzard now, and it is growing worse."

"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Ruth, almost sobbing.

"We must keep on!" declared Alice, grimly.

They locked arms and bent their heads before the blast. They tried to
keep to the path, but after a few moments of battling with the storm,
Ruth cried:

"Alice where are we?"

"On the way to Elk Lodge, of course."

"No, we're not. We're off the path! See, we didn't come past this big
rock before," and she pointed to one that reared up from the snow.

Alice paused for a moment, and then, with a curious note of fear in her
voice, she said:

"I--I am afraid we are lost, Ruth. Oh, it is all my fault!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE THREE MEN

They stood there together--the two moving picture girls--in the midst of
the sudden storm. They stood with their arms about each other, and the
frightened eyes of Alice gazed into the terror-stricken ones of Ruth.

"Alice," cried Ruth, "do you really think we are lost?"

"I'm afraid so. I didn't notice which way we were going; but, as you
say, we didn't pass that rock before. We must be lost!"

"But what are we to do?"

"We've got to do something, that's sure!" Alice exclaimed. "We can't
stay here and freeze."

"Of course not. But if we go on in the storm we may be snowed under."

"And I'm more afraid to stay here. We must keep on the move, Ruth."

"Yes, I suppose so. Oh, if we could only see our way! We can't be so
very far from Elk Lodge."

"We are not," agreed Alice. "We did not walk fast, and we have not been
gone very long. The Lodge can't be more than two miles away; but it
might just as well be two hundred for all the good that does us in this
storm."

Indeed the snow was so thick that it was impossible to see many feet
ahead. The white flakes swirled, seeming to come first from one
direction, and then from another. The wind blew from all points of the
compass, varying so quickly that the girls found it impossible to keep
it at their backs.

"Well, there is one thing we can do," said Alice, when they had advanced
a few steps and then retreated, not knowing whether it was better to
keep on or not.

"And what is it?" asked Ruth. "If there's any one thing to do in a case
like this I want to know it."

"We can go over behind that rock and get a little protection from the
wind and snow," Alice went on. "See, the snow has drifted on one side;
and the other is quite bare. That shows it affords some shelter. Let's
go over there."

"Come on," agreed Ruth. She caught her sister's arm in a firmer grasp,
and the two girls plowed their way through the snow. They had,
heretofore, been on a sort of path, that had been formed over the crust.
The girls had on their snowshoes or they would have scarcely been able
to progress. As it was the going was sufficiently difficult.

"Oh, wait a moment!" panted Ruth, half way to the sheltering rock.

"What's the matter?" asked Alice, quickly. "Are you ill?"

"No, don't worry about me, dear. I'm only--out of breath!"

"I positively believe you're getting stout!" laughed Alice, and Ruth was
glad that she could laugh, even in the face of impending danger. "You
must take more exercise," she went on.

"I'm getting plenty of it now," observed Ruth. "Oh, but it is hard going
in this snow!"

Together they struggled on, and finally reached the rock. As Alice had
surmised, the big boulder did give them shelter, and they were grateful
for it, as they were quite exhausted by their battle with the storm.

"What a relief!" sighed Alice, as she leaned back against the big stone.

"Oh, isn't it!" agreed Ruth. "But, Alice, if we are so played out by
that little trip, how are we ever going to get back to Elk Lodge?"

"I don't know, dear," was the hesitating answer. "But we must get back.
Maybe the snow will stop after a little, and we can see our way. That is
really all we need--to see the path. I'm sure I've been out in worse
storms than this."

"It is bad enough," responded Ruth, apprehensively. "See how it snows!"

Indeed the white flakes were coming down with increased violence, and
the wind swept and howled about the rock with a melancholy sound. The
girls huddled close together.

"Can you ever forgive me for bringing you out in such weather as this?"
begged Alice, self-reproachfully.

"It wasn't your fault at all, dear," Ruth reassured her and her arms
went about her sister in a loving embrace. "I wanted to come. Neither of
us knew this storm would make us get lost."

Alice said nothing for a moment. She was busy arranging a scarf more
tightly about her throat, for she felt the flakes blowing and sifting on
her, and did not want to take cold. The girls were warmly dressed, which
was in their favor.

For five or ten minutes they remained under the lee of the rock, not
knowing what to do. They realized, though neither wanted to mention it
to the other, that they could not remain there very long. Night would
settle down, sooner or later, and they could not remain out without
shelter. Yet where could they go?

"If it would only stop!" cried Ruth.

"Yes, or if someone from Elk Lodge would come after us!" added Alice.

"I'm sure they will!" cried Ruth, catching at this slender hope. "Oh,
Alice, I'm sure they'll come."

"And so am I, as far as that is concerned," agreed Alice. "The only
trouble is they will not know where to come. Don't you see?"

"But they know where we were going--you mentioned it to daddy."

"I know, but don't you understand, my dear, we're not where we said we
would go. We're lost--we're off the path. If it was only a question of
someone from the Lodge following the proper path it would be all right.
But we're far from it, and they will have no idea where to search for
us."

"Couldn't they trail us with--with bloodhounds?"

"Oh, I don't believe it will get as desperate as that. Not that there
are any bloodhounds at Elk Lodge. But there are some hunting dogs, and I
presume they might be able to follow our trail. Won't it seem odd to be
trailed by dogs? Just as if we were fugitive slaves!"

"I don't care how they trail us, as long as we get back to Elk Lodge!"
and there was a sob in Ruth's voice.

The next moment Alice, on whose shoulder Ruth had laid her head, uttered
a cry.

"Oh, what is it?" asked the elder girl. "Do you see someone? Are they
coming for us?"

"No, but the snow is stopping, and I can see a house--two of them, in
fact."

"A house! Good! Is it far off?"

"No, not far. Come on, I believe we can reach it."

As Alice had said, the snow had ceased falling almost as suddenly as it
had set in, and this gave the girls a clear view. They had made a little
turn from their original direction in getting to the rock, and they had
a view down in a little glade. There, as Alice had said, nestled two
houses; or, rather log cabins. One was of large size, and the other
smaller.

"Let's go there!" suggested Alice. "We can get shelter, and perhaps
there is someone in one of the cabins who will take us to Elk Lodge. We
can offer to pay him."

"They wouldn't want it," declared Ruth. "But come on. We mustn't lose
any time, for the snow may set in again at any moment. We must get there
while we can see."

The wind, too, had died out somewhat, so that it was comparatively easy
travelling now. Together the girls made their way over the snow toward
the smaller of the two cabins, that being the nearer.

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