A FILM MYSTERY
"I told you there were pirates there," Helen declared that evening, when
she and Ruth were in the room they shared together. Wonota slept in a
room adjoining and had already retired.
"I don't think that poor old man was a pirate," returned Ruth, smiling a
little.
"Didn't he tell you he was 'king of the pirates'?" demanded Helen.
Ruth laughed outright. "He said he was 'king of the pipes'--whatever that
may mean. Poor old fellow!"
"Well, it seems he most certainly had been 'smoking the pipe'--or do they
call it 'hitting the pipe'?"
"Don't ask me to aid you with any information on slang," admonished her
friend. "I don't suppose he is really king of anything except of a
country of his dreams--poor fellow."
"Dear me!" grumbled Helen. "You never will boost romance, Ruth Fielding.
Maybe there are pirates on that island."
"Or pipes," said Ruth calmly.
"Never mind. When the boys come I am going to shoo them on to that
place."
"What boys?" demanded Ruth in surprise.
"The Copleys arrive to-morrow. And their place is not five miles away
from this very spot. We'll get a motor-boat and go down there to-morrow
evening and welcome them. I got a telegram from Tom when I came back from
canoeing. I forgot to tell you."
"Tom!" exclaimed Ruth, and for perhaps the first time in her life she
seemed undesirous of hearing about Tom Cameron.
Helen gave her a somewhat puzzled side glance as she found the telegram
and gave it to her chum, who read:
"Vacation begins to-morrow. Will be with you next day. Tom."
Helen giggled. "You can make up your mind that he knows Chess Copley has
started for this neck of woods. Tom is becoming Mr. Jealous Jellaby. Did
you ever?"
"I am sorry Tom considers it necessary to take a vacation when he has
only just begun work with your father, Helen."
"There you go again!" exclaimed her chum. "I don't understand you at all,
Ruth Fielding. Tom doesn't have to work."
"It might be better if he did," said Ruth, and refused to discuss the
point further that evening.
The next day was just as lovely as that first one. Preparations were
under way all over the island Mr. Hammond had rented for the making of
the picture which Ruth had written. The continuity was being studied by
Mr. Hooley, the director; and the principals had been furnished with
their detail.
The ordinary participants in the filming of a picture--the "extras"--seldom
know much about the story. They merely appear in certain scenes and do what
they are told. As the scenes are not made in sequence these actors of the
smaller parts have little idea of the story itself.
Ruth, under the advice of Mr. Hammond, had chosen a certain series of
incidents relating to early French-Canadian history, and it began with an
allegory of the bringing of the Christian religion to the Indians by the
first French priests. This allegory included the landing of the French
upon the shore of a rocky island where they were met by the wondering
Indians, and Mr. Hooley's assistant had chosen the spot for this scene to
be "shot," not far from the place where the company had its headquarters.
Ruth paid little attention to the locations until the moment arrived for
the camera work. In fact, after supplying the detailed script she had
little to do with the preparation of the picture until the scenes were
made. She had never made continuity, as it is called, for that is more or
less of a mechanical process and is sure to interfere with the creative
faculty of the screen writer.
In the afternoon of this day Helen engaged a motor-boat, and she and Ruth
set out for the Copley island, which was some miles away, toward
Alexandria Bay. Caretakers and servants had been at work there for some
time, it was evident, for the lawns were neatly shaved, the gardens in
full growth, and the family were already comfortably settled in their
summer home.
Chess Copley must have been on the watch (could it be possible that he
had inside information about this early visit of Helen and Ruth?) for he
came running down to the dock before the gardener could reach that point
to fasten the boat's line.
"Hurrah!" he shouted. "I was just wondering if we would see you girls
to-day; and if you hadn't come I should have got out our launch and tried
to find your camp this evening."
"Oh, hullo, Chess," Helen said coolly as she stepped ashore, refusing his
assistance. "Where are the girls?"
"There they are--waiting for you on the porch," he said, rather subdued
it would seem by her bruskness.
Helen started directly for the wide veranda of the villa-like house that
topped the higher part of the island. There were several acres of grounds
about the Copley house, for the whole island was cultivated to the
water's edge. There was nothing wild left in the appearance of the
property, save a few of the tall forest trees that had been allowed to
stand and some huge boulders almost covered with climbing vines.
Ruth gave Chess her hand--and he squeezed it warmly. She gave him a frank
smile, and Chess seemed comforted.
"Nell's dreadfully tart with a fellow," he grumbled. "She's nothing like
she used to be. But you are kind, Ruth."
"You should not wear your heart on your sleeve," she told him briskly, as
they followed Helen Cameron toward the veranda.
The two girls from the moving picture camp passed a pleasant evening with
their New York friends. The Copley girls always managed to gather, Helen
declared, "perfectly splendid house parties;" and they had brought with
them several companionable girls and young men.
Music and dancing filled the evening, and it was ten o'clock when the two
chums from Cheslow sought their motor-boat and set out for the camp on
the Chippewa Bay island. Chess Copley had kept by Ruth's side almost all
the evening, and although Helen treated him so cavalierly, she seemed
provoked at her chum for paying the young man so much attention.
"I don't understand what you see in Chess," she said in a vexed tone to
the girl of the Red Mill. "He's nothing much."
"He is pleasant, and you used to like him," said Ruth quietly.
"Humph!" Helen tossed her head. "I found him out. And he's not to be
compared with Tommy-boy."
"I quite agree with you--that is, considering Tom as a brother," observed
Ruth, and after that refused to be led into further discussion regarding
Chess Copley.
It was not often that Ruth and Helen had a disagreement. And this was not
really of importance. At least, there was no sign of contention between
them in the morning.
To tell the truth, there was so much going on, on this day, that the
girls could scarcely have found time to quarrel. The sun was bright and
the sky cloudless. It was an ideal day for out-of-door "shots," and the
camera men and Mr. Hooley had the whole company astir betimes.
The few real Indians, besides Wonota and Totantora, in the company, and
all those "extras" who were dressed as aborigines, got into their
costumes before breakfast. Soon after eight o'clock the company got away
in barges, with launches to tow them through the quiet waterways.
In a costume play like this that had been planned, the participants
naturally make a very brilliant spectacle wherever they appear. But among
the islands of Chippewa Bay there were few spectators at this time save
the wild fowl.
"And they," Helen said, "might be descendants of the very birds who
looked on the actual first appearance of the white man in this
wilderness. Isn't it wonderful?"
When Mr. Hooley, megaphone in hand and stationed with the two cameras on
one of the decked-over barges, had got his company in position and the
action was begun, it was indeed an impressive picture. Of course, a scene
is not made off-hand--not even an outdoor pageant like this. The detail
must be done over and over again before the cranks of the cameras are
turned. It was almost noon before Mr. Hooley dared tell the camera men to
"shoot the scene."
The flag-decorated barge bearing the Frenchmen to the rocky shore moved
forward into focus in a stately way, while the Indians gathered in a
spectacular group on the sloping shore--tier upon tier of dark faces,
wearing nodding feather head-dresses, blankets, deerskin leggings, and
other garments of Indian manufacture--all grouped to make a brilliant
spectacle.
Totantora, a commanding figure, and his daughter as _White Fawn_, the
demure yet dominant princess of the Hurons, stood forth from the
background of the other Indians in a graceful picture. Helen was
delighted and could not help shouting to the Osage girl that she was
"great"--a remark which elicited a frown from the director and an
admonition from Ruth.
Behind the grouped Indians was the greenery of the primeval forest with
which this rocky island seemed to be covered. The cameras whirred while
the barge containing the actors representing the Frenchmen pushed close
into the shore and the whites landed.
A boy carried ashore the great cross, and with him came a soldier bearing
the lilies of France, the standard of which he sank into the turf. The
detail of costume and armament had been carefully searched out by Ruth
herself, and the properties were exact. She was sure that this part of
the picture at least could not be criticised but to be praised.
It was three o'clock before the party disembarked and went back to the
camp for a delayed lunch. The remainder of the afternoon was devoted to
the taking of several "close-ups" and an interior scene that had been
built on the island rather than in the city studio of the Alectrion Film
Corporation.
The films taken earlier in the day were developed, and that evening after
dinner Ruth and Helen joined Mr. Hammond and Mr. Hooley in the projection
room to see a "run" of the strip taken at the island where the Frenchmen
landed.
"Do you know that that island is the one we landed on ourselves the other
evening, Ruth?" Helen remarked, as they took their seats and waited in
the darkness for the operator to project the new film.
"Do you mean it? I did not notice. The island where I met that strange
old man?"
"The pirate--yes," giggled Helen. "Only we went ashore at the far end of
it."
"I never thought of it--or of him," admitted Ruth. "Poor, crazy old
fellow--"
The machine began its whirring note and they fell silent. Upon the silver
sheet there took shape and actuality the moving barge with its banners
and streamers and costumed actors. Then a flash was given of the Indians
gathering on the wild shore--wondering, excited, not a little fearful of
the strange appearance of the white men. The pageant moved forward to its
conclusion--the landing of the strangers and the setting up of the
banners and the cross.
But suddenly Ruth shrieked aloud, and Mr. Hammond shouted to the operator
to "repeat." The dense underbrush had parted behind the upper tier of
Indians and in the aperture thus made appeared a face and part of the
figure of a man--a wild face with straggling hair and beard, and the
upper part of his body clad in the rags of a shirt.
"What in thunder was that, Hooley?" cried Mr. Hammond. "Somebody butted
in. It's spoiled the whole thing. I thought your men warned everybody off
that island?"
"I never saw that scarecrow before," declared the director, quite as
angrily.
But Ruth squeezed Helen's hand hard.
"The King of the Pipes," she whispered.