ON TO THE FARM
Despite the excitement and hard work caused by the wreck, many of the
trainmen had time to look for the missing dog. This was after the
conductor had been appealed to by Mrs. Delamont, the owner of the
prize animal.
And it appeared, from the deferential attitude of the conductor, that
Mrs. Delamont was a person of some importance. Her husband was one of
the directors of the railroad, and she was much interested in prize
dogs.
But a careful search failed to disclose the missing Rex III. An
examination of the car revealed nothing, and the baggage man was sure
he had tied such a knot in the dog's leash that the animal could not
have worked it loose.
"Besides," said Mrs. Delamont, "Rex would not leave me. Someone must
have taken him."
"That's what I think," agreed the baggageman.
And this was very possible, as many strangers had been attracted to
the scene of the wreck. Mrs. Delamont offered a reward of a hundred
dollars for the return of her prize dog, and this spurred a number of
volunteer searchers to work.
They scurried about the fields near the scene of the accident, but in
spite of enticing calls and whistles no Rex answered.
"I'm afraid he is gone," said Alice, who had taken quite a liking to
Mrs. Delamont, in spite of the lady's rather "loud" dress and
manners.
"Oh, I must find him!" exclaimed Mrs. Delamont. "I shall have to
advertise," she went on. "This is not the first time he has been
taken. He is such a fine-looking dog that many are attracted to him.
And he is so friendly! Oh, Rex, where are you?"
But Rex III was not to be found, and the trainmen could no longer
delay. A last search was made in the surrounding fields, and then the
passengers went back to their cars. A substitute engineer and fireman
had come with the wrecking crew.
Mrs. Delamont made many inquiries as to whether anyone had seen her
dog being led away, but no one had, and lamenting over her loss, and
dwelling on the fine qualities and value of her pet, she resumed her
seat in the parlor car.
"Well, I sure did get some fine pictures," remarked Russ, as he came
back to the others of the film company. "It will be something for our
newspaper service, all right."
"We'll send them back to New York from the next station," said Mr.
Pertell, "and wire that they're on the way. They can develop and
print them there."
In the first book of this series I have described the mechanical part
of moving pictures, how they are made and prepared for projection on
the screen. To briefly sum it up, I might say that the pictures, or
negatives, are taken on a continuous strip of celluloid film in a
specially prepared camera, which takes views at the rate of sixteen
per second. Then, after this long strip of negative is developed, a
positive, as it is called, is made, and this is run through the
projecting machine in the theatre. Thus, by means of powerful lenses,
and intense lights, the miniature pictures, less than an inch in
width, are enlarged to life size.
In order to make sure that the passengers should reach their
destinations the train that had been in the wreck was stopped at the
next important station. There a new baggage car was put on, and
another engine. Russ took advantage of the delay to send back, by
express, the film he had made of the collision, at the same time
telegraphing the manager of the film studio to expect the reel.
The journey to Beatonville was then taken up again, and proceeded
without further accident. The train was somewhat delayed, and when it
drew up at the small station Ruth, Alice and the others looked out
eagerly to see what sort of place it was.
"It isn't as bad as you said, Russ!" exclaimed Ruth. "I see two
houses, anyhow."
"Not many more, though," he answered, with a laugh.
Beatonville was a typical country railroad town, and quite a crowd of
depot loungers gathered around as the theatrical company alighted.
As the train went on its way again Alice caught a glimpse of Mrs.
Delamont at one of the windows in the parlor car. The owner of the
missing Rex III waved her hand in friendly farewell to the girl.
"I wish I could find her dog," thought Alice. "It's too bad to have a
pet and lose him."
"I don't like dogs!" exclaimed Ruth. "I'm always afraid they'll bite
me."
Alice laughed at her sister's nervousness.
"There's Sandy!" exclaimed Russ, pointing to a young farmer who was
holding the heads of two horses attached to a large "carryall."
"Come on!" called Mr. Pertell to his players. "I expect you're all
hungry, on account of the delay. Have you anything to eat out at your
place?" he called to Sandy.
"Yep. Ma's been bakin' an' cookin' for th' last week!" was the
comforting answer. "We're all ready for you. I'm going to take you
over in this rig, and I've got another wagon for your trunks and
stuff. Have a good journey?"
"Good! Bah! A smash-up!" growled Mr. Sneed. "But we might have
expected it--starting out on track thirteen."
"Yah! But ve are all right now, alretty yet!" laughed Mr. Switzer.
Ruth, Alice and the others looked about them with interest. It was a
typical country landscape--a little valley nestling amid the green
hills.
"Oh, I know I'm going to like it here," murmured Ruth. "It is so
restful!"
"Restful! Yes! I should say it was!" exclaimed Pearl Pennington, as
she bent a stick of chewing gum, preparatory to enjoying it. "I know
what I'll do, all right!"
"What, dear?" asked her friend Laura Dixon, with lazy interest.
"What'll you do?"
"I'll be going back to little old New York in about a week. This
place has got on my nerves already. Ugh! Isn't it quiet!"
It certainly was, after the departure of the train. There was none of
the various noises of New York. Even the horses seemed ready to go
to sleep as they stood lazily at the shafts or poles of the vehicles
they drew.
"Come on!" cried Sandy, hospitably. "It's quite a little drive out to
our farm, and I know your folks must be tired and hungry."
"Hungry! That's no name for it!" voiced Miss Dixon. "Have you any
lobsters, Mr. Apgar?"
"Lobsters? No'm. They don't raise none of them birds out here. But we
got chicken."
"Oh, listen to him, Pearl!" exclaimed Miss Dixon. "He thinks a
lobster is a bird."
"Don't mind them," said Paul Ardite to Sandy, in a low voice. "It
hasn't been many years that they could afford lobster. Chicken for
mine, every time."
"Well, they do say ma cooks th' best chicken around here," spoke
Sandy, proudly. "She done it in Southern style this time."
"Say no more!" exclaimed Mr. DeVere. "Sandy, you are a gentleman and
a scholar. How long will it take us to get to your farm?"
"About half an hour."
"That's twenty-nine minutes too long, since you have mentioned
chicken in Southern style. But do your best."
Seated in the comfortable carryall, the members of the moving
picture company began their trip to Oak Farm. The way lay along a
pleasant country road, and in the distance could be seen the cool,
green hills.
It was early June, and, all about, the farmers were doing their work.
The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and the green woods, for
the road led past several forest patches where the wind swept
pleasantly through the swaying trees.
"Oh, it is just lovely here!" sighed Ruth, as she removed her hat and
let the gentle wind blow about her hair. "I know I shall love it.
And, Daddy dear, maybe it will do your voice good."
"Perhaps it will, daughter," he agreed. "However, since we are doing
so well in moving pictures, I have not the desire I had at first to
get back to the boards. I am becoming content in this line."
"I'm glad," said Alice, "for I like it very much. Oh, it is lovely
here, Ruth!"
"Just fine, I call it!" exclaimed Russ. "The air is so clear. I'm
sure we'll get fine pictures here."
"I know we'll die of loneliness," grumbled Miss Pennington. "I wish
we hadn't come, Laura."
"So do I, but there's no help for it now," replied Miss Dixon.
Rumbling behind the carryall was the farm wagon containing the
trunks, and in less than the half-hour stipulated by Sandy, Oak Farm
was reached. Ruth, Alice and their father fell in love with the place
at first sight. Mr. Pertell and Russ had seen it before, and most of
the others admired it.
There was a big, old-fashioned farmhouse, setting back from the road,
and fronted by a wide stretch of green lawn. The house was white,
with green shutters, and was well kept. Back of it were barns and
other farm buildings, some of which were rather dilapidated.
"Welcome to Oak Farm!" cried Sandy. "There's Pa Felix and Ma Nance
lookin' for ye! Here they are, Ma!" he called. "All ready for your
chicken."
"Bring 'em right in!" the mother invited, cordially.
Ruth and Alice liked the farmer's wife at once. There was a stoop to
her shoulders that told of many weary days of work, and she looked
worn and tired, but there was a bright welcome in her eyes as she
greeted the visitors. "Pa Felix," as Sandy called his father, was
rather old and feeble.
"Come right in and make yourselves to home," urged Mrs. Apgar. "Your
rooms is all ready for ye!"
"Where is the bell-boy?" asked Miss Pennington, with uptilted head
and powdered nose. "I want him to take my valise to my room at once.
And I shall want a bath before dinner."
"Isn't she horrid, to try to put on such airs here?" said Alice to
Ruth, nodding in the direction of the vaudeville actress.
"Yes. She only does it to make trouble."
Sandy and his father were talking together in low tones in one corner
of the big parlor.
"You didn't get any word; did you?" asked the old man.
"No, Pa. There wasn't no letter."
"Then we won't git th' money."
"It don't look so."
"And we'll have to lose th' place?"
"I--I'm afraid so," replied Sandy.
"Gosh! That--that's hard, in my old age," said the elderly farmer,
softly. "I hoped your ma and I'd be able to end our days here. But I
guess it ain't to be. However, this company will help us pay some of
the claims. We'll do the best we can, Sandy."
"That's what we will!"
Alice wondered what secret trouble could be worrying the farmer and
his son. Mrs. Apgar, too, had an anxious look on her face, but she
tried to make her visitors feel at home.