The Moving Picture Girls at Rocky Ranch
L >>
Laura Lee Hope >> The Moving Picture Girls at Rocky Ranch
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10
Mr. Pertell planned to stop off with his company at several places and
make films along the way. This was in accord with his idea of showing a
big drama indicating the development of this country from East to West.
The rush of the gold seekers, and the advance of the farmers to take up
Government claims, were to be depicted, along with many other scenes.
One stop was made in the coal mining regions of Pennsylvania, near
Scranton, and there some fine films were obtained. In one scene Ruth and
Alice were shown in the interior of a mine, with the black coal all
about them. Powerful electric lights gave the necessary illumination.
"I'd like to get a scene showing an explosion," said Russ, as they left
the coal regions.
"Why, Russ Dalwood!" cried Ruth. "I'm surprised at you!"
"Oh, I don't mean by accident," he replied, quickly. "In fact, a little
one would do. And I don't want one to happen on my account. But if
there's going to be an accident I wish I could be on hand to film it."
"Oh, that's different," said Ruth, with a smile. "But I'm glad there is
no accident."
Three days had been spent in and around Scranton, and now the moving
picture players were ready to start off again. Mr. Pertell was
reconsidering some plans he and Russ had talked over, and it had not
been definitely decided what to do as yet.
"We'll just keep on," said the manager, "and perhaps something will
turn up to give me an idea for a novel film."
They had taken a train on a small branch line of the railroad to connect
with a through express, and about an hour after starting, and when about
half-way to the junction, they came to a sudden stop.
"Ha! An accident!" cried Russ, reaching for the small camera he kept for
emergencies.
"Wait, I'll come with you," said the manager. "We may be able to make it
into a film."
But when they got on the outside, followed by several of the members of
the company, they saw no signs of anything wrong. There was no other
train in sight, so there could have been no collision, and their own
train was safely on the track. Off to one side, however, gathered about
a tall structure of wood, was a knot of people.
"What's the matter?" asked Russ of one of the trainmen.
"They're going to shoot an oil well over there," was the answer, "and
it's so close to the track that they signalled us to stop."
"Why didn't they wait until we got past?" asked Mr. DeVere who, with his
daughters, had gone out to see what caused the delay.
"Why, they had already lowered the charge of nitro-glycerine into the
well," the brakeman explained, "and something has gone wrong. The shot
didn't go off, and they're afraid it may at any minute. So they're
holding us back a little while."
"Is that an oil well?" asked Alice, pointing to the tall, wooden
structure.
"That's the derrick, by which the drill is worked--yes, Miss," the
brakeman said. "They bore down through the sand and rock until they
think they're close to the oil. Then they blow out what rock and earth
remains, with nitro-glycerine. The well may be a 'spouter,' or they may
have to pump. Can't tell until after they fire the shot. I guess she's
going off!" he added quickly. "Look at 'em run!"
"I've got my idea!" exclaimed Mr. Pertell. "We'll have a film of boring
for oil. That will fit in well with my big drama. Get the company
together, Pop," he said to the property man. "And, Russ, get ready to
film the shooting of the oil well."
CHAPTER IX
THE RIVALS
Though there was a rush of spectators away from the oil well it appeared
to be a false alarm, for nothing happened, and Mr. Pertell, who was
afraid the well would "spout" before he could get his company of players
on the scene, was relieved when he heard one of the workmen call:
"False alarm. She isn't going off yet."
"Now hurry and get around the well," urged the manager. "I want some of
you grouped near it when the oil spouts up."
"Won't it be dangerous?" asked Mr. Sneed. "I don't want to be blown up
by nitro-glycerine."
"You needn't get too close," returned Mr. Pertell. "I just want the
spouting well as a background."
"It will be all right if you keep about thirty feet back," said one of
the well borers.
"How do you shoot a well?" asked Paul, while Russ was getting ready his
camera.
"By using nitro-glycerine," was the answer. "This explosive comes in tin
cans, about ten feet long and about five inches in diameter. We lower
these cannisters down into the iron pipe that extends to the bottom of
the well."
"How deep?" queried Alice.
"Oh, a well may run anywhere from three hundred to three thousand feet,
or even more. This one is about one thousand. We have about a hundred
quarts of nitro-glycerine down in the pipes now; but it hasn't gone off
yet."
"Can you--er--tell me when it _will_ go off?" asked Mr. Sneed, looking
about him nervously.
"Any minute, if not sooner," replied the oil man, with a smile. "Oh,
don't run--you're safe here," he added, as Mr. Sneed began to move away.
At the same time Claude Towne, the "swell" of the company, exclaimed:
"I'm not going to stay here and get this new suit spoiled by the oil."
He was very careful of his attire.
"Oh, the oil won't spray as far as this," the workman assured him.
"How do they explode the glycerine?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Well, the old plan used to be to drop an iron weight called a
'go-devil,' down on top of the cannisters containing the explosive. The
top can was fitted with a firing head, and when the iron weight hit
this, after a long fall, it would explode, and the concussion would set
off the rest of the glycerine."
"But this time we tried a new plan. We used a 'go-devil-squib.' That's a
sort of torpedo, holding about a quart of the glycerine, and it has a
firing head of its own. We drop that down the pipe and when it hits on
the top cannister it goes off, and sets off the rest of the explosive.
But, somehow, it didn't work this time. The charge missed fire, so now
we're going to drop down an old fashioned 'go-devil' and see what
happens."
Mr. Pertell asked, and readily obtained, permission to make moving
pictures of the shooting of the well, and was also accorded the
privilege of posing his company at the scene when the well did "spout."
"I'll have to think up some sort of a scenario to go with it," the
manager said.
"Have some poor man get rich suddenly by striking oil on his land,"
suggested Russ, "and then show what he does with his money. You can
easily get the later scenes."
"Good idea--I will," exclaimed the manager. "We'll use this as the
first, or opening, scene in--let me see, we'll call it 'The Rise and
Fall of the Kerosene King.' How's that?"
"Good!" cried Mr. DeVere.
"All right. Paul, you'll be the king. But you'll have to start as a
poor lad, and those good clothes won't do. Slip on a pair of greasy
overalls--borrow them from one of the men--then you'll look more
natural."
Paul was soon fitted out as one of the oil men, and then, after a brief
rehearsal, the improvised drama was ready to be taken on the sensitive
film. A few preliminary scenes were made by Russ, and then, as word was
given that the iron weight was about to be dropped on the cans of
glycerine in the well-pipes, Mr. Pertell got his company as close to the
derrick as was safe. Then, while Russ clicked away at the camera, one of
the workmen called:
"Let her go!"
A man dropped the iron weight down the pipe and ran.
"Look out, everybody!" he cried as he sprang away.
"Are we safe here?" Mr. Sneed asked anxiously.
"You're all right," one of the workmen assured him.
"Oh, I'm so nervous!" faltered Ruth.
"No need of it," answered Alice, as she leaned forward to watch the
spouting of the oil from the well.
There was a dull rumble beneath the surface of the earth. The ground
seemed to heave and shake. It trembled, and Miss Pennington and Miss
Dixon looked at each other with frightened eyes.
"It--it's like an earthquake," observed Ruth.
"Oh, look!" cried Alice.
At that moment something like a dark cloud shot upward from the pipes
and spread out, plume-fashion. At the same moment the air was filled
with the rank odor of oil and gas.
"She's a spouter! She's a spouter!" cried the men, in delight.
"Cap her up!" came the command.
But it was not easy to do at first, so great was the flow of oil, and
considerable had run to waste when the internal pressure of natural gas,
which forced out the oil, was reduced sufficiently to allow of the pipe
being capped, and the flow of petroleum regulated.
All this time Russ had continued to get pictures of the novel scene, and
Paul, as the Kerosene King, went through the act that had been
improvised for him, the others of the company doing their share.
"This will make a novel film," said Mr. Pertell in satisfied tones. "I
hope you got it all, Russ."
"Every bit. I think the views showing the oil spouting up will be first
rate."
"But what are you using two cameras for?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Two cameras?" repeated Mr. Pertell, questioningly.
"Yes, there's a man over there with another machine," and he pointed to
a little hill, not far off, where stood a man working away at the handle
of a machine similar to the one Russ was using. And this camera was
pointed directly at the oil well and at the Comet players.
"What does that mean?" cried Mr. Pertell. "I didn't order two films
made, and besides----"
"That isn't one of our men!" interrupted Russ, as he sprang away from
his camera.
"Who is it?" Mr. Pertell wanted to know.
"It's one of our rivals. Someone from the International concern!" cried
Russ. "They've followed us to steal some more of our ideas!"
"You're right!" shouted Mr. Pertell. "This will have to stop!"
Together he and Russ, followed by Paul, made a dash in the direction of
the rival photographer. But the latter saw them coming, and hastily
picking up his machine he ran toward a clump of woods not far off. And
by the time his pursuers reached there he was not to be found, though
they searched about for some time.
CHAPTER X
THE CYCLONE
"All aboard!" called the conductor of the way train that had been held
up to allow the shooting of the oil well. "All board!"
"Come," summoned Mr. Pertell to his moving picture players. "We'll get
along now. That stop was a lucky one for us."
The train could now proceed, all danger from the delayed charge in the
well being over. Just what had caused it to "hang fire" was never
learned. But the shooting of the well was a success, and as the train
pulled out, Paul having gotten rid of his borrowed clothes, the workmen
were seen hurrying about, taking care of the valuable flow of petroleum.
"What do you make of the action of that International man?" asked Russ,
as he took a seat beside the manager.
"I don't know what to make of those fellows," was the answer. "They must
be following us pretty closely; but I don't see how they knew we were
going to film the oil well."
"They didn't know it," decided Russ. "They've had a spy on our trail,
following us; that's how it was done. You know we saw that fellow Wilson
looking at the destination marked on the baggage checks. He probably
sent word to the concern and they started out a camera man to follow us.
It would have to be someone we hadn't seen before, so of course Wilson
himself would not do, though I understand he can operate a machine
fairly well."
"I guess you've got the right idea," agreed Mr. Pertell. "This fellow,
whoever he was, made inquiries and learned where we were headed for.
Then with his camera he simply kept on the same train with us."
"And when we stopped here to get the oil well pictures," resumed Russ,
"he trailed along and set up his machine. He got all the benefit of our
players' acting and his company wasn't out a cent for salaries or
transportation. Of course he probably had as good a right to get
pictures of the well as we did."
"But not to film my company!" exclaimed Mr. Pertell, with energy. "I
won't stand for that; I'll have a stop put to it!"
"First I'm afraid we'll have to catch him," observed Russ. "He certainly
made himself scarce when we ran after him."
"Well, he isn't on this train, that's sure," went on the manager, "and
he'll have some trouble picking up our trail after this."
"How's that?" asked Russ.
"Why, I'm going to change our plans. We'll skip the next stop. I was
going to go up around the Great Lakes and make part of a drama there,
showing the effect the lakes and their trade had on the growth of our
country. Now I'll wait until we are on our way back from Rocky Ranch."
"That will be a good idea," agreed the young camera operator. "Those
International people must be pretty hard put to it to steal your ideas."
"They are," said Mr. Pertell. "They want to do me an injury. I had some
trouble with them years ago, and I won out in a lawsuit. Since then they
have been injuring me every chance they could get; but it really
amounted to little until lately. Now they are evidently getting
desperate, and they are using every means to make trouble for me."
"Well, we'll just have to be on the lookout for them at every turn,"
Russ declared.
Owing to the decision of Mr. Pertell that he would not, at this time,
take his company to the Great Lakes, a change in the route had to be
made. This necessitated stopping off for one night at a small country
town, where the company put up at the only hotel the place afforded.
"What a miserable place!" exclaimed Miss Pennington, tilting up her head
when she entered the office with the others.
"And such a horrid smell!" added Miss Dixon, as she stripped off her
long gloves with an air of being used to dining every day at the most
exclusive hotels. "I believe they are actually cooking--cabbage, Pearl."
"I agree with you, my dear! Isn't it awful! Can it be--cabbage?"
"Yah! Dot's right!" exclaimed Mr. Switzer, rubbing his hands. "Dot's
cabbage, all right--sauerkraut, too. Goot!"
"Ugh!" protested Miss Pennington, making a gesture of annoyance.
"I am glat dot ve come here," went on the German. "I haf not hat any
sauerkraut--dot is, not any to mention of--since ve left New York."
"Why, I saw you eating some the other day," laughed Paul, as the odor of
cooking cabbage became more pronounced from the hotel kitchen.
"Oh, yes, I hat a leetle--yust enough to know der taste of it," agreed
the German, with a genial smile. "But I ain't really hat vot you could
call a meal of it."
"You're like a man I heard of," said Russ, joining in the talk. "He was
a German farmer, I guess, and when his neighbor asked him if he was
putting away any sauerkraut that season the German answered: 'No, ve
ain't put none down to speak of dis season. Only yust seven or eight
barrels in case of sickness!'"
"Goot! Goot! Dot vos a real German!" laughed Mr. Switzer.
There was sauerkraut for supper that night, and the German actor
certainly ate enough to ward off any possible illness. And, in spite of
the rather homely character of the hotel, the meal was an excellent one,
and the moving picture players were more comfortable in the matter of
rooms than they had expected. About the only ones to find fault were
Miss Pennington, Miss Dixon, and Mr. Sneed. But they would have had some
objection to offer in almost any place, so it did not much matter.
Plans were made for taking a train early next morning, to continue on
out West, but something occurred to delay matters, though it resulted in
the making of an excellent film.
It was just before everyone was ready for breakfast when Ruth, thinking
she heard her sister's knock sharply on the door, opened it.
Instead of confronting Alice, Ruth jumped back in terror as she saw a
bear standing upright in the hall opposite her door.
"Oh! Oh!" she screamed as the beast put out his red tongue. "Help! A
bear! A bear!" and she slammed her door shut with such energy that she
knocked a picture from the wall. Ruth shot home the bolt, and then, in a
frenzy of fear, pulled the washstand against the door.
"What is it? Oh, what is it?" cried Alice from her apartment across the
corridor. "What is it, Ruth?" for she had heard her sister's frantic
appeal, though not catching the words.
"Don't open your door! Don't open you door!" begged Ruth. "There's a
bear in the hall!"
"A bear?"
"Yes, a great big one!"
But in spite of this Alice did open her door a little. She closed it
quickly enough, however, at the sight of the shaggy brown creature and,
pounding on the door of her father's room, which connected with hers,
she cried;
"Daddy, get help, quick! There's a bear in the hall!"
There was a speaking tube from the actor's apartment to the hotel
office, and he was soon transferring his daughter's message down this.
Meanwhile Mr. Sneed, coming out of his room from the lower end of the
hall, encountered the beast, and turned back with a yell. He nearly
collided with Mr. Towne, who was at that moment coming out of his room,
faultlessly attired, even to a heavy walking stick.
"Look out!" cried Mr. Sneed, racing along.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Towne.
"A bear. Look out! Here he comes!"
And, in fact, the bear was shuffling down the hall, his head lolling
from side to side, and his red tongue hanging out.
Either Mr. Towne did not hear what Mr. Sneed said, or he was so
surprised that he did not think to run, for he stood there and, a moment
later, the big beast confronted him. Stretching out his paw the animal
took from the nerveless hands of the actor the heavy walking stick, and,
shouldering it, began to march around in a circle.
Then the hotel proprietor, having been alarmed by Mr. DeVere, came up on
the run. As soon as he saw the bear marching around he broke into a
laugh.
"That's a trained bear!" he exclaimed. "It belongs to that Italian who
stopped here last night. I made him chain the brute out in the wagon
shed, but I guess he got loose. That bear won't hurt you. I've seen him
before. Tony, the Italian who owns him, often stops here with him when
he's traveling around giving exhibitions. He's real gentle. Down,
Bruno!" commanded the hotel man, and the bear, with a grunt, dropped on
all fours.
Alice, hearing this talk, opened her door, and then called to Ruth that
there was no danger. Mr. Sneed was induced to return, and when Tony
himself came to get his escaped pet Mr. Towne's cane was returned to
him. The bear had taken it for the pole he was used to performing with.
"You want to chain your bear up tighter, Tony," chided the hotel man as
the Italian led Bruno away.
"Ah, yes. Bruno, he ees a very bad-a-de bear! I wheep heem for dese."
"Oh, don't!" pleaded Alice. "He didn't mean anything wrong."
"No, mees, but he very bad, just-a de same. He make-a you to be
a-skeert."
"Oh, it's all over now," declared Ruth, who ventured out, seeing that
the bear was in leash. "But I _was_ frightened for a moment."
"I don't blame you," said Paul, as he heard what had happened. "Rather
an unusual morning caller, Ruth."
"Say! I've got an idea!" cried Mr. Pertell, who had come out by this
time. "We'll have a film with the bear in it. A sort of Little Red
Riding Hood story for children. Something simple, but it will be great
to have a real bear in it. Tony, will you let us use Bruno?"
"Of a course, Signor. I make up for de scare. Bruno he do-a just-a
whatever you tell. He very good-a bear--sometimes!" and he shrugged his
shoulders, philosophically.
"Very well, then, we'll wait over another train, and I'll get up some
little scenario with a bear in it. Mr. Sneed, you will take the part of
the bear's keeper, and Miss Alice----"
"No, sir!" cried Mr. Sneed. "No bears for me. I won't act with one. Why,
he'd claw me to pieces!"
"Ah, no, Signor!" interrupted Tony. "Bruno he very gentle just-a like-a
de little babe. He no hurt-a you, Signor."
"Well, I'm not going to take any chances," declared the "grouch." "This
is too dangerous."
"Ha! I am not afraid!" cried Mr. Switzer. "I vill act mit der bear
alretty yet," and to prove that he was not afraid he fed the big animal
some pretzels, without which the German actor seldom went abroad.
And, a little later, Russ made a film, in which the bear was one of the
central figures. Alice took part in it, and the simple little play made
quite a hit when shown.
"You seem to have the happy faculty of making use of everything that
comes your way--accidentally or not," remarked Mr. DeVere to Mr.
Pertell, when the company was once more under way in the train.
"You have to in the moving picture business," chuckled Mr. Pertell.
"That's the secret of success. You never can tell when something will go
wrong with a play you have planned carefully and rehearsed well. So you
must be ready to take advantage of every change in situation. Also, you
must be ready to seize on every opportunity that comes your way."
"You certainly seized on that bear," agreed Mr. DeVere.
"I'm glad he wasn't a wild one," went on the manager. "I am sorry your
daughters were frightened----"
"Oh, pray do not mention it," the actor said. "They are getting used to
strange experiences in this moving picture work."
"And I want to tell you they are doing most excellently," the manager
went on. "I have had many actresses of experience who could not do half
as well as Miss Ruth and Miss Alice. I congratulate you!"
Little of moment occurred during the rest of the trip; that is, until
the next stopping place was reached. This was at a place in Kansas where
Mr. Pertell planned to have some farming operations shown as a
background to a certain part in the big drama.
On the way a careful watch had been kept for the appearance of the
spies, or camera operators, of the International company, but no trace
of them had been seen.
There were no hotels in Fostoria, where the Kansas stop was made, and
the company was accommodated at two farmhouses close together. A number
of scenes were to be made, with these houses and outbuildings figuring
in them.
"Isn't it nice here?" asked Alice as she and Ruth were in their room on
the morning after their arrival, getting ready for breakfast.
"It does seem so," agreed the older girl, as she leaned over with her
hair hanging in front of her while she combed it out.
"Such wide, open spaces," went on Alice. "Plenty of fresh air here."
"Too much!" laughed Ruth. "Grab that waist of mine; will you, Alice?
It's going out of the window on the breeze."
Alice was just in time to prevent the garment from fluttering out of
the room, for the breeze was certainly strong.
As the younger girl turned back to hand her sister the waist she
exclaimed:
"Oh, what a queer looking cloud! And what a funny yellow light there is,
all about. Look, Ruth."
"Isn't it?" agreed Ruth, as she coiled her hair on top of her head. "It
looks like a storm."
Off in the west was a bank of yellowish clouds that seemed rolling and
tumbling over and over in their eagerness to advance. At the same time
there was a sobbing and moaning sound to the wind.
"Oh, Alice. I think there is going to be a terrible storm," gasped Ruth
a moment later, suddenly realizingly that danger impended.
Indeed the wind was rising rapidly, and the clouds increased in size.
Now confused shouts could be heard out in the farmyard, and some men
were running about, rounding up a bunch of cows.
"What's the matter?" called Mr. Pertell, coming out on the side porch.
"Cyclone coming!" answered the proprietor of the farm. "It's going to be
a bad one, too!"
CHAPTER XI
AT ROCKY RANCH
With a howl, a rush and a roar the storm was upon them. Never had the
moving picture girls or their friends ever seen, heard or imagined such
a violent wind.
The sky was overcast with yellowish clouds, edged with black, which were
torn and twisted in swirling circles by the gale. The air itself seemed
tinged with a sickly green that struck terror to the girls' hearts.
There was a crash that rose high above the howl of the wind, and someone
called:
"There goes the roof off the corn crib!"
Inside the house there were confused shouts and calls. The house itself
rocked and swayed.
"Oh, what shall we do?" sobbed Ruth.
"Let's go out, before it falls down on us," cried Alice.
Clinging to each other they made their way downstairs. Their father came
after them, followed by other members of the moving picture company.
"Is--is there any safe place?" faltered Mr. Sneed, as he look anxiously
about.
"The cyclone cellar," answered one of the farm men. "All hands had
better take to that. We're out of the path of the worst of the
'twister,' but it's best to take no chances. To the cyclone cellar!"
"Where is it?" asked Mr. Bunn, looking around the room, as though the
place of refuge were kept inside the house.
"There!" cried the man, pointing to a small mound of earth, in which was
set a sort of trap door. "Go down in there!"
A number of farm hands, as well as members of the family, were making
for this haven. It was a veritable cellar, covered over, and used for
just such emergencies. A flight of steps led down into it.
"Where are you going, Russ?" cried Ruth, as she saw the young operator
turn from the side of the porch where he had been standing.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10