THE DANCE AT ALEXANDRIA BAY
"You might have been mistaken, I suppose, Miss Ruth?" suggested Mr.
Hammond, the president of the film corporation, sitting at his desk in
the room of the main bungalow which he used as an office. "It was growing
dark when that speed boat passed you and your friend, was it not?"
"Not out on the river, Mr. Hammond. It was light enough for us to see the
men in that boat plainly. Just as sure as one of them was a Chinaman, the
short, fat man was Horatio Bilby."
"It doesn't seem possible that the fellow would chase away up here after
us when he so signally failed down below. My lawyer tells me that he had
no real authority from the Bureau of Indian Affairs to secure Wonota's
services, after all."
"He is a man who would not need much authority to attempt any mean
thing," said the girl hotly.
"That may be true," admitted Mr. Hammond. "But it seems quite too
sensational." He smiled, adding: "Quite too much like a movie plot, eh?"
"You say yourself that he has obtained the production rights to those
'Running Deer' stories that have appeared in the _Gotham Magazine_," said
Ruth, with earnestness. "They are good stories, Mr. Hammond. I have read
them."
"Yes. I believe they are pretty good material for pictures. That is, if
they were handled by a practical scenario writer like yourself."
"It is too bad you did not get them."
"Well, Bilby was ahead of us there. Somehow, he got backing and bought
the picture and dramatic rights to the tales outright. He can find
somebody besides Wonota to play _Running Deer_."
"He seems to have set his heart on our Wonota."
"Yes. He did make Totantora a whacking good offer. I must admit he did. I
could not begin to see such a price for the girl's services. And on a
mere speculation. But I pointed out to Totantora that, after all, a
promise is only a promise. He and Wonota have already had considerable
hard cash from us," and Mr. Hammond ended with a laugh.
He was evidently not so much impressed by the possible danger of Bilby's
presence in the Thousand Islands as Ruth could have wished. She
determined herself, however, to be sharply on the watch for the
reappearance of the coarse little fat man who had so troubled her and the
Indians at the Red Mill.
She took Totantora into her confidence, after speaking to Mr. Hammond,
although she did not say a word to Wonota. Despite the natural stoicism
of the Osage maiden, Ruth did not know but that Wonota might become
nervous if she knew the plotting Bilby was near at hand.
The chief listened to Ruth's warning with a certain savage anger in his
look that warned Ruth not to push the suggestion of Bilby's determination
to obtain possession of Wonota too far. The chief was not a patient man,
and the possible threat against the safety of his daughter roused in him
the instinct of defence.
"Me watch," he said. "That fat man come here, me chase him away. Yes!"
"Don't do him any harm, Totantora," warned Ruth. "But tell Mr. Hammond or
me if you see him."
Nobody saw Bilby immediately, however; and as several days passed Ruth
began to wonder if, after all, she had not been mistaken in her
identification of the fat man in the boat.
Meanwhile, the making of the picture went on steadily; but something
else--and something Helen Cameron at least considered of moment--was
planned during this time.
Many other summer residents of the Thousand Islands besides the Copleys
had now arrived, and the gaiety of the season was at its height. There
was one very large hotel at Alexandria Bay, and it was planned to use its
ballroom for a "big war dance," to quote Helen. It was to be a costume
dance, and everybody that appeared on the floor must be dressed in Indian
costume.
Wonota helped the chums and the actresses with the Alectrion Film
Corporation who attended, in the getting up of their costumes and the
staining of their faces and arms. The Osage girl herself wore a beautiful
beaded robe, feather-trimmed and brilliantly dyed. It was her "coronation
robe" in the picture she was helping to film. But Mr. Hammond, who
likewise attended the dance, allowed the girl to wear this finery, which
really was part of the "props" of the company.
Launches were engaged from Chippewa Bay to take most of those from the
camp who attended the dance, either as participants in the costume review
or as spectators, but Chess Copley arranged to come for his particular
friends in the _Lauriette_.
Helen was tempted to refuse to go in the Copley launch; but when she saw
Jean and Sara Copley beside their brother, she went aboard with Ruth and
Tom. There actually was no friction between the two young men, although
Tom usually addressed Chess by that opprobrious nickname, 'Lasses, while
Chess retorted by scoffing at all the ex-captain's opinions and advice on
any and all subjects.
Really, had she not felt that she was partly the cause of this mild
strife, Ruth would have laughed at the two. They were, after all, but
grown-up boys.
It was a gay party aboard the _Lauriette_, nevertheless. Even Wonota
(whom Ruth was keeping with her) was gay. And she was so pretty in her
beautiful costume that when they arrived at the hotel the young men at
the dance vied in their attempts to have her for a partner on the floor.
There was a fine band and the dancing floor was smooth. Even Mr. Hammond
went on to the floor, having secured a costume, and Mother Paisley, who
acted as chaperon for the moving picture girls, was as light as anybody
on her feet and the embodiment of grace.
"Actor folk nowadays," the old woman told Ruth once, "are not trained as
they once were. I came of circus folk. My people had been circus
performers in the old country for generations before my father and mother
came over here. My husband was a trapeze performer.
"And working on the bars makes one supple and limber beyond any other
form of exercise. Afterward, while still a young girl, I was in the
ballet. At least, when one has had my training, one brings to the
speaking stage a grace and carriage that can scarcely be secured in any
other way.
"As for this moving picture business," she sighed, "I see these poor
girls as awkward as heifers--and they are really learning very little.
They depend upon the director to tell them how a lady should enter a
room, and how to walk. But often the director has never seen a real lady
enter a room! Directors of moving pictures are not masters of deportment
as our old dancing masters were."
Ruth always listened to strictures upon the moving picture art and gained
what she could from such criticism. And the harshest critics the motion
pictures have are the people who work in them. But, after all, Ruth had a
vision.
She felt that in spite of all the "great," "grand," "magnificent,"
"enormous" pictures already advertised upon the billboards, the public
was still waiting for a really well made and properly written and acted
series of pictures that claimed neither more sensationalism than they
possessed, nor were hastily and carelessly made.
Ruth liked to work with Mr. Hammond, and he had been very kind and
considerate of her. But she felt that, untrammeled, she would be able to
make better pictures than she had made with him. She wanted a free hand,
and she felt the insistence of the treasurer's office at her elbow. Money
could be lavished upon anything spectacular--for instance, like this
French-Indian picture they were making. But much had to be "speeded up"
to save money in other phases of production.
Mr. Hammond, like most of the other moving picture producers, thought
only of the audience coming out of the theater with "ohs!" and "ahs!"
upon their lips regarding the spectacular features in the film shown.
Ruth wanted to go deeper--wanted to make the impression upon the minds
and intelligence of the audiences. She felt that the pictures could be
something bigger than mere display.
But this is all aside from the fun they had at the costume dance. Ruth
and Helen both danced with Mr. Hammond and Mr. Grand and with several
others of the moving picture people, as well as with their own friends.
Chess got the second dance with Ruth; and then he had the third; and then
got the sixth. He might have gone on all the evening coming back to her
and begging the favor had Ruth not insisted upon his devoting himself to
some of his sisters' friends.
But, at the same time, Ruth was somewhat piqued because Tom Cameron did
not come near her all the first part of the evening. She could not
understand what the matter really was with him--why he acted in so offish
a manner.
After that sixth dance (and Ruth had danced them all with one partner or
another) she sent Chess away from her definitely. She went in search of
Tom. The orchestra began playing for the next dance. Ruth looked keenly
about the brilliant assembly. She knew Tom's costume--it was distinctive
and could not be mistaken. But she could not mark it at all in the
throng.
Two or three men asked her to dance, but she pleaded fatigue and
continued to walk about the edge of the ballroom. Finally, in an alcove,
sitting at an empty table, and with no companion, she spied the recreant
Tom.
"Why, Tom!" she cried cheerfully, "are you sitting out this dance too?
And the music is so pretty."
"The music is all right," he agreed.
"Don't you want to dance?"
"No. I do not want to dance," he answered sourly.
"Not--not even with me, Tom?" she ventured, smiling rather wistfully at
his averted face.
"With nobody. I am waiting for Helen and the rest of you to get enough of
this foolishness and go home."
"Why, Tom! You--you are not ill?" she ventured, putting out a hand to
touch his shoulder yet not touching it.
"Not at all, Ruth," he said, and now he glanced up at her. His look was
cold. "Not at all."
"You are not yourself," she said, more composedly. "What are you thinking
of?"
"I am thinking," said Tom, looking away again and with the same
moodiness, "that I was a fool to leave the army. That was my job. I
should have stuck to it. I should have used my commission and father's
influence to stay in the army. But it's too late now. I guess I had my
chance and didn't know enough to use it."
He arose abruptly, bowed stiffly, and walked away. If Tom had actually
slapped her, Ruth could have felt no more hurt.