The Moving Picture Girls in War Plays

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Then came the scenes of the war. Battles were to be shown, and there
were plots and counter-plots, in some of which Ruth and Alice had no
part. Mr. DeVere was cast for a Northern General, and the character
became him well. Later on Alice and Ruth were to meet in a hospital
among the wounded. Alice was supposed to get certain papers of value to
her side from a wounded Union officer. As she was escaping with them
Ruth was to intercept her, and the two were to have a "strong" scene
together.

Alice, ignoring the pleadings of her cousin and about to depart with
the papers, learns that the officer from whom she took them was the same
one that had saved her father's life on the battlefield. She decides to
forego her mission as a spy, even though it may mean the betrayal of her
own cause, when the news comes in of Lee's surrender, and her sacrifice
is not demanded. Then "all live happily for ever after."

That is but a mere outline of the play, which was to be an elaborate
production. And it was the rehearsal for the preliminary battles and
skirmishes that the girls were now witnessing.

"Tell that battery to get ready to fire!" cried Mr. Pertell, and this
word went over the telephone.

"Come on now with that Union charge!" was the next command.

Then hundreds of horses thundered down the slopes of Oak Farm, while the
hidden guns thundered. Down went horses and men while the girls screamed
involuntarily, it all seemed so real.

"It's a good thing we didn't plant no corn in that there field this
season," observed Belix Apgar, Sandy's father, as he saw the charge.

"That's right," agreed his wife. "There wouldn't have been 'nuff left to
make a hominy cake."

"Do it over again!" ordered the manager. "Some of you fellows ride your
horses as if you were going to a croquet game. Get some action into it!"

Once more the battery thundered its harmless shots and the men charged.
This time the scene was satisfactory, and preparations were made to film
it. Again the men thundered down the slope, and when they were almost at
the battery a single rider--a girl--dashed out toward the approaching
Union soldiers.

"Oh, she'll be killed!" cried Ruth. "They'll ride right over her!"

It did seem so, for she was headed straight toward the approaching
horsemen.

"She's all right," said Paul. "She's quite a rider, I believe. Her part,
as a Union sympathizer, is to rush out and warn them of the hidden
battery, but she is delayed by a Southerner until it is too late, and
she takes a desperate chance. There go the guns!"

Horses and riders were lost in a cloud of smoke. This time the film was
being taken. When that charge was over, and men and horses, some
limping, had gone back to their quarters, Mr. Pertell signaled to the
daring woman rider to come to him.

"That was very well done, Miss Brown," he said. "You certainly showed
nerve."

"I am glad you liked it," was the answer in a quiet, well-bred voice.
"Shall you want me again to-day?"

"Not until later, and it will be an interior. Is your horse all right?"

"Oh, yes. I am in love with him!" and she patted the arching neck of the
handsome creature. "He is so speedy."

"He sure is speedy, all right," agreed Paul, and the girl--she was
scarcely more than that--who had been addressed as Miss Brown by the
director smiled at the young actor. Then she let her friendly gaze rest
on Ruth and Alice.

"Isn't she fine!" murmured Alice.

"Like to meet her?" whispered Paul.

"Yes!" exclaimed Alice eagerly, paying no attention to Ruth's plucking
of her sleeve.

"Miss Brown, allow me to present----" and Paul introduced the two DeVere
girls.

"That was a daring ride of yours!" remarked Alice, with enthusiasm.

"Indeed it was," agreed Ruth, more quietly.

"Do you think so? I'm glad you like it. I have been riding ever since I
was a little girl."

"Did you learn in the West?" asked Alice.

"Why, yes--that is I--I really--oh, there goes that wild black horse
again!" and Miss Brown turned to point to an animal ridden by one of
the Confederate soldiers. The horse seemed unmanageable, and dashed
some distance across the field before it was brought under control.

Then the talk turned to moving picture work, though Ruth could not help
wondering, even in the midst of it, why Miss Brown had not been more
certain of where she had learned to ride.

"It isn't something one would forget," mused Ruth.

CHAPTER VI

A NEEDED LESSON

Rehearsals, the filming of scenes, retakes and the studying of their
parts kept busy not only the moving picture girls, but all the members
of Mr. Pertell's company. There was work for all, and from the smallest
girls and boys, including Tommie and Nellie Maguire, to Mr. DeVere
himself, little spare time was to be had.

Ruth and Alice had important parts, and they were given a general
outline of what was expected of them. They would be in many scenes, and
a variety of action would be required. In order that they do themselves
and the film justice, since they were to be "featured," the girls spent
much time studying in their rooms and practising to get the best results
from the various registerings.

"That is going to be a very strong scene for you and Alice," said Mr.
DeVere to Ruth one day. "I refer to that scene where Alice takes the
paper and afterwards discovers the identity of the man to whom she owes
so much--the life of her father. Now let me see how you would play it,
Alice."

Alice did so, and she did well, but her father was not satisfied. The
stage traditions meant much to him, and though he had been forced to
give up many of them when he went into the motion pictures, still he
knew what good dramatic action was, and he knew that it would "get over"
just as certainly in the silent drama as it did in the legitimate. So he
made Alice go over the scene again, and Ruth also, until he was
satisfied.

"Now, when the time comes, you'll know how to do it," he said. "Don't be
satisfied with anything but the best you can do, even if it is only a
moving picture show. I am convinced, more and more, that the silent
drama is going to take a larger place than ever before the public."

It was on one afternoon following a rather hard day's work before the
cameras, that Ruth and Alice, with Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon, sat
on the porch of the farmhouse, waiting for the supper bell. Russ and
Paul were off to one side, talking, and Mr. DeVere and Mr. Bunn were
discussing their early days in the legitimate. Mr. Pertell came up the
walk, a worried look on his face, seeing which Mr. Switzer called out:

"Did a cow step on some of the actors, Herr Director, or did one of our
worthy farmer's rams knock over a camera after it had filmed one of the
battle scenes?"

"Neither one, Mr. Switzer," was the answer. "This is merely a domestic
trouble I have on my mind."

"Domestic!" exclaimed Alice. "You don't mean that some of your pretty
extra girls have eloped with some of your dashing cowboy soldiers, do
you? I wouldn't blame them if they----"

"Alice!" chided her sister.

"Oh, well, you know what I mean!"

"No, it isn't quite that," laughed the director, "though you have very
nearly hit it," and he took a chair near Alice and her sister, and near
where Pearl Pennington and Laura Dixon were rocking and chewing gum.

"Tell us, and perhaps we can help you," Alice suggested.

"Well, maybe you can. It's about Miss Estelle Brown, the young lady who
made that daring ride in front of the masked battery the other day."

"What! Has she left?" asked Ruth. "She was such a wonderful rider!"

"No, she hasn't left, but she threatens to; and I can't let her go, as
she's in some of the films and I'd have to switch the whole plot around
to explain why she didn't come in on the later scenes."

"Why is she going to leave?" Alice queried.

"Because she has been subjected to some annoyance on the part of a young
man who is one of the extras. You know the extras all live down in the
big bungalow I had built for them. I have a man and his wife to look
after them, and I try to make it as nearly like a happy family as I can.
But Miss Brown says she can't stay there any longer. This young man--a
decent enough chap he had seemed to me--is pestering her with his
attentions. He is quite in love with her, it seems."

"Oh, how romantic!" gurgled Miss Dixon.

"Miss Brown doesn't think so," said the manager dryly. "I don't know
what to do about it, for I have no place where I can put her up alone."

"Bring her here!" exclaimed Alice, impulsively.

"Indeed, no!" cried Miss Pennington. "We actresses were told that none
of the extra people would be quartered with us! If that had not been
agreed to I would not have come to this place."

"Nor I!" chimed in Miss Dixon. "We professionals are not to be classed
with these extras--and amateurs at that!"

"I know I did promise you regulars that you would be boarded by
yourselves," said Mr. Pertell, scratching his head in perplexity, "and I
don't blame you for not wanting, as a general run, to mix with the
others. For some of them, while they are decent enough, have a big idea
of their own importance. I wouldn't think of asking you to let one of
the extra men come here, but this young lady----"

"She is perfectly charming!" broke in Alice. "And she certainly can
ride!"

"She did seem very nice," murmured Ruth.

"Pooh! A vulgar cowgirl!" sneered Miss Dixon.

"There is a nice room near mine," went on Alice. "She could have that, I
should think. The Apgars don't use it, and it is certainly annoying to
be pestered by a young man!" and she looked with uptilted nose at Paul,
who said emphatically:

"Well, I like that!"

"If I could bring her here----" began Mr. Pertell.

"By all means!" exclaimed Ruth. "We will try to make her happy and
comfortable--if she is an amateur."

"She has no right to come here!" burst out Miss Dixon.

"No, indeed!" added Miss Pennington. "If she comes, I shall go! I will
not board in the same place with an amateur cowgirl doing an extra turn
in the pictures."

"Nor I!" snapped Miss Dixon.

"All right--all right!" said Mr. Pertell quickly. "I know it's contrary
to my promise, and I won't insist on it. Only it would have made it
easier----"

"Let Miss Brown come," quickly whispered Alice in the director's ear.
"They won't leave. They're too comfortable here, and they get too good
salaries. Let Miss Brown come!"

"Will you stand by me if I do?"

"Yes," said Alice.

"So will I," added Ruth.

Then the supper bell rang and the discussion ended for the time being.
Later Mr. Pertell explained privately to Ruth and her sister that Miss
Brown was a quiet and refined young lady about whom he knew little save
that she had answered his advertisement for an amateur who could ride.
She had made good and he had engaged her for the war scenes.

"But she tells me that among the young men in the same boarding bungalow
is one who seems quite smitten with her. He is impudent and exceedingly
persistent, and she does not desire his attentions. She said she thought
she would have to leave unless she could get a quiet place where he
could not follow. It is all right during the day, as he can not come
near her, but after hours----"

"Do bring her!" urged Alice. "We'll try to make her comfortable. And
don't fear what they will do," and she nodded toward the two other
actresses, who had been in vaudeville before going into motion pictures.

So it was that, later in the evening, Miss Brown brought her trunk to
the Apgar farmhouse and was installed in a room near Alice and Ruth.

"Oh, it is _so_ much nicer here!" sighed Estelle Brown, as she admitted
Ruth and Alice, who knocked on her door. "I could not have stood the
other place much longer. Though every one--except that one man--was very
nice to me."

"Let us be your friends!" urged Alice.

"You are very kind," murmured Estelle, and the more the two girls looked
at her, the prettier they thought her. She had wonderful hair, a
marvelous complexion, and white, even teeth that made her smile a
delight.

"Have you been in this business long?" asked Ruth.

"No, not very--in fact, this is my first big play. I have done little
ones, but I did not get on very well. I love the work, though."

"Were your people in the profession?" asked Alice.

"I don't know--that is, I'm not sure. I believe some of them were,
generations back. Oh, did you hear that?" and she interrupted her reply
with the question.

"That" was the voice of some one in the lower hall inquiring if Miss
Brown was in.

"It's that--that impertinent Maurice Whitlow!" whispered Estelle to Ruth
and Alice. "I thought I could escape him here. Oh, what shall I do?"

"I'll say you are not at home," returned Ruth, in her best "stage
society" manner, and, sweeping down the hall, she met the maid who was
coming up to tell Miss Brown there was a caller for her below.

"Tell him Miss Brown is not at home," said Ruth.

"Very well," and the maid smiled understandingly.

"Ah! not at home? Tell her I shall call again," came in drawling tones
up the stairway, for it was warm, and doors and windows were open.

"Little--snip!" murmured Estelle. "I'm so glad I didn't have to see him.
He's a pest--all the while wanting to take me out and buy ice-cream
sodas. He's just starting in at the movies, and he thinks he's a star
already. Oh! but don't you just love the guns and horses?" she asked
impulsively.

"Well, I can't say that I do," answered Ruth. "I like quieter plays."

"I don't!" cried Alice. "The more excitement the better I like it. I can
do my best then."

"So can I," said Estelle. Then they fell to talking of the work, and of
many other topics.

"Did Estelle Brown strike you as being peculiar?" asked Ruth of her
sister when they were back in their rooms, getting ready for bed.

"Peculiar? What do you mean?"

"I mean she didn't seem to know whether or not her people were in the
profession."

"Yes, she did side-step that a bit."

"Side-step, Alice?"

"Well, avoid answering, if you like that better. But my way is shorter.
Say, maybe she has gone into this without her people knowing it, and she
wants to keep them from bringing her back."

"Maybe, though it didn't strike me as being that way. It was as though
she wasn't quite sure of herself."

"Sure of herself--what do you mean?"

"Well, I can't explain it any better."

"I'll think it over," said Alice, sleepily. "We've got lots to do
to-morrow," and she tumbled into bed with a drowsy "good-night."

Miss Laura Dixon and Miss Pearl Pennington most decidedly turned up
their noses at the breakfast table when they saw Estelle sitting between
Ruth and Alice. And their murmurs of disdain could be plainly heard.

"She here? Then I'm going to leave!"

"The idea of amateurs butting in like this! It's a shame!"

Fortunately Estelle was exchanging some gay banter with Paul and did not
hear. But Ruth and Alice did, and the latter could not avoid a thrust at
the scornful ones. To Ruth, in an unnecessarily loud voice, Alice
remarked:

"Do you remember that funny vaudeville stunt we used to laugh over when
we were children--'The Lady Bookseller?'"

"Yes, I remember it very well," answered Ruth. "What about it, Alice?"
for she did not catch her sister's drift.

"Why, I was just wondering how many years ago it was--ten, at least,
since it was popular, isn't it?"

"I believe so!"

"It's no such a thing!" came the indignant remonstrance from Miss
Pennington. It was in this sketch that she had made her "hit," and as
she now claimed several years less than the number to which she was
entitled, this sly reference to her age was not relished. "It was only
_six_ years ago that I starred in that," she went on.

"It seems much longer," said Alice, calmly. "We were quite little when
we saw you in that. You were so funny with your big feet----"

"Big feet! I had to wear shoes several sizes too large for me! It was in
the act. I--I----"

"They're stringing you--keep still!" whispered her chum, and with red
cheeks Miss Pennington subsided.

But Alice's remarks had the desired effect, and there were no more
references, for the present, directed at pretty Estelle. Miss Dixon and
Miss Pennington had a scene with Mr. Pertell, though, in which they
threatened to leave unless Estelle were sent back to the bungalow where
the other extra players boarded. But the manager remained firm, and the
two vaudeville actresses did not quit the company.

Hard work followed, and Estelle made some daring rides, once narrowly
escaping injury from the burning wad of a cannon, which went off
prematurely as she dashed past the very muzzle. But she put spurs to her
horse, who leaped over the spurt of fire and smoke. A few feet of film
were spoiled; but this was better than having an actor hurt.

Alice was sitting on the farmhouse porch one afternoon, waiting for
Estelle and Ruth to come down, for they were going for a walk together,
not being needed in the films. Estelle had been taken into companionship
by the two girls, who found her a very charming companion, though little
disposed to talk about herself.

Alice, who was reading a motion picture magazine, was startled by
hearing a voice saying, almost in her ear:

"Is Miss Brown in?"

"Oh!" and Alice looked up to see Maurice Whitlow smirking at her. He had
tiptoed up on the porch and was standing very close to her. She had
never been introduced to him, but that is not absolutely insisted on in
moving picture circles, particularly when a company is on "location."

"Is Miss Brown in?" repeated Whitlow.

"I don't know, I'm sure," replied Alice.

"Ah, well, I'll wait and find out. I'll sit down here by you and wait,"
went on the young man, drawing a chair so close to that of Alice that it
touched. "Fine day, isn't it? I say! you did that bit of acting very
cleverly to-day."

"Did I?" and Alice went on reading.

"Yes. I had a little bit myself. I carried a message from the field
headquarters to the rear--after more ammunition, you know. Did you
notice me riding?"

"I did not."

"Well, I saw you, all right. If Miss Brown isn't home, do you want to go
over to the village with me?"

"I do not!" and Alice was very emphatic.

"Then for a row on the lake?"

"No!"

"You look as though you would enjoy canoeing," went on the persistent
Whitlow. "You have a very strong little hand--very pretty!" and he
boldly reached up and removed Alice's fingers from the edge of the
magazine. "A very pretty little hand--yes!" and he sighed foolishly.

"How dare you!" cried Alice, indignantly. "If you don't----"

"See how you like that pretty bit of grass down there!" exclaimed a
sharp voice behind Alice, and the next moment Mr. Maurice Whitlow,
eye-glasses, lavender tie, socks and all, went sailing over the porch
railing, to land in a sprawling heap on the sod below.

CHAPTER VII

ESTELLE'S LEAP

"Oh!" murmured Alice, shrinking down in her chair. "Oh--my!"

She gave a hasty glance over her shoulder, to behold Paul Ardite
standing back of her chair, an angry look on his face. Then Alice looked
at the sprawling form of the extra player. He was getting up with a
dazed expression on his countenance.

"What--what does this mean?" he gasped, striving to make his tones
indignant. But it is hard for dignity to assert itself when one is on
one's hands and knees in the grass, conscious that there is a big grass
stain on one's white cuff, and with one's clothing generally
disarranged. "What does this mean? I demand an explanation," came from
Mr. Maurice Whitlow.

"You know well enough what it means!" snapped Paul. "If you don't, why,
come back here and try it over again and I'll give you another
demonstration!"

"Oh, don't, Paul--please!" pleaded Alice in a low voice.

"There's no danger. He won't come," was the confident reply.

By this time Whitlow had picked himself up and was brushing his
garments. He settled his collar, straightened his lavender tie and wet
his lips as though about to speak.

"You--you--I----" he began. "I don't see what right you had to----"

"That'll do now!" interrupted Paul, sternly. "It's of no use to go into
explanations. You know as well as I do what you were doing and why I
pitched you over the railing. I'll do it again if you want me to, but
twice as hard. And if I catch you here again, annoying any of the ladies
of this company, I'll report you to the director. Now skip--and stay
skipped!" concluded Paul significantly. "Perhaps you can't read that
notice?" and he pointed to one recently posted on the main gateway
leading to the big farmhouse. It was to the effect that none of the
extra players were allowed admission to the grounds without a permit
from the director.

"Huh! I'm as good an actor as you, any day!" sneered Whitlow, as he
limped down the walk.

"Maybe. But you can't get over with it--here!" said Paul significantly.

The notice had been posted because so many of the cowboys and girls had
fairly overrun the precincts of Mr. Apgar's home. He and his family had
no privacy at all, and while they did not mind the regular members of
Mr. Pertell's company, with whom they were acquainted, they did not want
the hundreds of extra men, soldiers, cowboys and horsewomen running all
over the place.

So the rule had been adopted, and it was observed good-naturedly by
those to whom it applied. Whitlow must have considered himself above it.

"Did he annoy you much, Alice?" asked Paul.

"Not so very. He was just what you might call--fresh. He asked for Miss
Brown, and when she wasn't here to snub him he turned the task over to
me. Ugh!" and Alice began to scrub vigorously with her handkerchief the
fingers which Whitlow had grasped. "I'm sorry you had that trouble with
him, Paul," she went on. "But really----"

"It was no trouble--it was a pleasure!" laughed Paul. "I'd like to do it
over again if it were not for annoying you. I happened to come up behind
and heard what he was saying. So I just pitched into him. I don't
believe he'll come back. He'll be too much afraid of losing the work.
Mr. Pertell has had a great many applications from players out of work
who want to be taken on as extras, and he can have his pick. So those
that don't obey the regulations will get short notice. You won't be
troubled with him again."

And Alice was not, nor was Miss Brown. That is, as regards the extra
player's trespassing on the grounds about the farmhouse. But he was of
the kind that is persistent, and on several occasions, when the duties
of the girls brought them near to where Whitlow was acting, he smiled
and smirked at them.

Alice wished to tell Paul about it and have him administer another and
more severe chastisement to Whitlow, but Ruth and Estelle persuaded the
impulsive one to forego doing so.

"I can look after myself, thank you, Alice dear," Estelle said. "Now
that I don't have to board in the bungalow with him it is easier."

"Don't make a scene," advised Ruth.

"Oh, but I just can't bear to have him look at me," Alice said.

Several of the scenes in the principal drama had been made, but most of
the largest ones, those of the battles, of Alice's spy work, and of
Ruth's nursing, were yet to come.

The making of a big moving picture is the work not of days, but of
weeks, and often of months. If every scene took place in a studio,
where artificial lights could be used, the filming could go on every day
the actors were on hand, or whenever the director felt like working them
and the camera men. Often in a studio, even, the director will be
notional--"temperamental," he might call it--and let a day go by, and
again the glare of the powerful lights may so affect the eyes of the
players that they have to rest, and so time is lost in that way.

But the time lost in a studio is as nothing compared to the time lost in
filming the big outdoor scenes. There the sun is a big factor, for a
brilliant light is needed to take pictures of galloping horses, swiftly
moving automobiles and locomotives, and every cloudy day means a loss of
time. For this reason many of the big film companies maintain studios in
California, where there are many days of sunshine. They can take
"outdoor stuff" almost any time after the sun is up.

But at Oak Farm there were times when everything would be in readiness
for a big scene, the camera men waiting, the players ready to dash into
their parts, and then clouds would form, or it would rain, and there
would be a postponement. But it was part of the game, and as the
salaries of the players went on whether they worked or not, they did not
complain.

One morning Alice, on going into Estelle's room, found her busy
"padding" herself before she put on her outer garments.

"What in the world are you doing?" Alice asked.

"Getting ready for my big jump," was the answer.

"Your big jump?"

"Yes, you know there is a scene where I carry a message from
headquarters to one of the Union generals at the front. Your father
plays the latter part."

"Oh, yes, now I remember. And Daddy is sure no one can do quite as well
as he can in the tent scene, where he salutes you and takes the message
you have brought through with such peril."

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