THE BARN DANCE
Alice fought back with all her strength the inclination to faint, and
forced her brain to compel her body to do its work. She did her best
to aid Paul in the rescue, but he was having a hard struggle. For
Alice was rather heavy, and her feet, entangled as they were with the
fish line, were of no aid. Then, too, the blow on her head had not
been a light one, though it developed later that her heavy hair had
prevented the log from bruising her.
"I have you! Don't worry! I'll save you!" she could hear Paul
murmuring in her ear. Then her head cleared, and she was able to
recognize the voice and make out the words of someone on the opposite
bank, toward which Paul was swimming with his burden.
For the voice was the voice of Russ Dalwood, and his words sounded
strangely enough under the circumstances.
"That's it! Come right over here!" the young moving picture operator
called. "I'm getting a dandy film! That's it, Paul, a little more to
the left! That's the finest rescue scene I ever got! It's great
acting!"
"Why--why you--you don't mean to say you're _filming_ us!" cried
Paul, for he was now in shallow water and could stand upright,
holding Alice in his arms.
"Of course I'm filming you!" exclaimed Russ. "Do you think I'd let an
act like this get past me? Not much!" and he continued to grind away
at the crank of his machine, which he had hastily set up on the edge
of the stream, where he commanded a good view of those in the water.
"But this isn't acting!" said Paul, ready to laugh, now that the
danger was over. "This is _real!_ Alice fell in, and I went in after
her. It's the real thing!"
"Great Scott!" cried Russ. "I thought you were rehearsing for some
play, and as I came along I thought I might as well get the scene,
even if it was only a rehearsal. For I had plenty of film left, and
sometimes the rehearsal comes out better than the real thing. And so
it was an accident?"
"Of course it was," answered Paul. "But as long as you've got it on
the film I suppose there's no help for it."
"It's a fine scene, all right," went on Russ, "and Mr. Pertell can
work it into some of his plays." He ceased operating the camera now,
as Paul and Alice were too close.
"Are you much hurt?" asked the young rescuer, anxiously, as he looked
for a grassy spot whereon to place his burden.
"No--no," returned Alice, "I was more frightened than hurt. Will you
please cut that line?" she asked, pointing to the tangle of the fish
cord around her feet.
In an instant Paul had out his knife, and cut the string.
"Well, you two are pretty wet," said Russ. "How did it happen?"
"The bank gave way with us," explained Paul. "It's too bad, Alice.
That dress is spoiled, I'm afraid," he added, ruefully.
"It doesn't matter," she answered. She could laugh now, but she could
not repress a shudder as she looked back at the deep water of the
eddy. They were on the other side of the stream now.
"It was an old one, Paul," Alice went on, "and I can save it to do
some more water-scenes with. For probably, after Mr. Pertell hears
that Russ has the basis for a drama with someone in it being saved
from drowning, he'll want the rest, and we may have to do some more
swimming."
"I wouldn't mind in the least," he said; "but next time I hope, for
your own sake, you don't get entangled in a fish line."
"That was pretty risky," said Russ. "But you two had better be
getting back to the farmhouse now, and into some dry things."
"Indeed, yes," agreed Alice. "I'm sure I must look like a fright.
Papa will be so worried, and Ruth, too. I wish I could slip in the
back way so they wouldn't see me until I had time to change."
"I'll manage it," spoke Russ. "I'll go on ahead, and if any of our
folks are in the back I'll bring them around to the front and hold
them there while you slip in. I guess, Paul, you don't care to be
seen in that rig; do you?"
"I should say not! That water was certainly wet!"
He had taken off his coat and was wringing it out, while Alice
managed to get some of the water from the lower part of her skirts.
"Then you aren't going to swim back?" asked Russ.
"I should say not!" exclaimed Paul, with energy. "Isn't there a
bridge somewhere around here, where we can cross?"
"About half a mile down," answered Russ, "I came that way."
"Are you sure you're all right, and able to walk, Alice?" Paul
inquired, anxiously. "If not, I could go for a carriage. That is, if
you will wait."
"Of course I can walk," she answered, promptly, as she tried to
arrange her hair in some sort of order.
"Don't worry about that," said Paul, quickly. "It looks nicer that
way."
"As if I would believe that!" she challenged. "Well, if we're going,
let's go. Don't forget, Russ, what you promised about getting us in
the rear entrance. I wouldn't have Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon see
me this way for anything--I'd never hear the last of it!"
"Does your head hurt?" asked Paul, coming closer to examine the spot
where the floating log had hit Alice.
"Just a little," she admitted. "It's lucky, though, that my hair is
so thick."
They set off, Paul and Alice following Russ, who went on ahead with
his moving picture camera.
"I certainly have a fine film," he said, "but I don't believe I would
have taken it if I had known it was the real thing in the way of a
rescue. I'd have jumped in and given a hand myself."
"It was very good of you, Paul," murmured Alice, but when he looked
into her eyes she turned her own gaze away.
"I--I wouldn't have missed the opportunity of saving you for--for
anything," he said, softly.
On the way to the farmhouse, over the bridge and along the country
road, a few passing farmers turned to gaze curiously at the two
dripping figures, and one grizzled man, seeing the camera Russ
carried, and knowing moving picture actors were at Oak Farm, said,
loudly enough to be heard:
"Wa'al, by hickory! Some folks is purtty hard put t' airn a livin'
now-a-days! Jumpin' in th' water t' have pictures made of 'em. G'lang
there!" and he drove on with his bony horse and ricketty wagon.
"You see, he thought the same thing that I did," laughed Russ.
The young moving picture operator was able to draw around to the
front of the farmhouse those of the theatrical company who were near
the rear, and he managed to keep them there until Paul and Alice had
a chance to slip in the side door, and get to their rooms unnoticed.
Ruth, however, saw Alice, just as she entered the apartment they
shared.
"Oh, my dear girl--you're all wet!" Ruth exclaimed.
"You generally get that way when you fall into the water," remarked
Alice, calmly. Then she told of the accident.
"Oh, what a narrow escape!" breathed Ruth, sinking into a chair. "You
quite frighten me!"
"You need not be frightened--now--it's all over," and Alice was quite
cool about it.
Nothing worse than a slight headache followed her experience in the
brook, but as much fuss was made over her, and as many kind inquiries
made, after the story became known, as though she had been seriously
injured.
Mr. Pertell, after duly saying how sorry he was at the occurrence,
expressed his satisfaction over the fact that Russ had made a film of
the happening, and at once set to work to devise a plot and play in
which it would fit. As Alice had guessed, he had to have other water
scenes, and some in which a boat figured, and Paul and Alice were
called on again to go through some "stunts," on the mill stream. Thus
a pretty little play was made out of what had been an accident. And,
more often than once is that really done in the moving picture
world.
Rather quiet days followed at Oak Farm. A number of rural plays were
acted and filmed, and word came back from New York, where the first
films had been sent for development and printing, that the reels were
most successful. The one where Mr. Bunn was wet with the hose was
particularly good, so said Mr. Pertell's agent.
"But I'll never go through such a thing again," declared the
Shakespearean actor.
The affairs of the Apgar family did not improve with time. Squire
Blasdell paid several visits to the farm, and one day, seeing Sandy
looking particularly gloomy, Ruth asked him what the trouble was.
"The squire is gettin' ready to sell off the farm," he replied. "He's
goin' t' foreclose that mortgage. I've tried all the ways I know to
raise that four thousand dollars; but I can't!"
"I wish we could help," said Ruth, sympathetically, as she thought of
the days of their own poverty, when everything seemed so black.
"I don't reckon anyone can help us," said Sandy. "If only we could
find Uncle Isaac's money, and get what belongs to us, we'd be all
right; but I guess we can't."
Preparations were under way for a barn dance, which was to be part of
a scene in one of the farm plays Mr. Pertell had planned. In order to
make it as natural as possible a number of the country folk living
near Oak Farm had been asked to take part. Young and old were
invited, and all were delighted to come and "have their pictures
took." Thus the original theatrical company would be much augmented
on this occasion.
The affair was to take place in the old barn, which, later, would be
burned in the great drama. And this barn was selected as the dance
was to take place at night. For this good illumination would be
needed, and special magnesium lamps were sent out from New York, to
be lighted inside the barn. In order to run no chances of burning one
of the good farm buildings the old one, which now practically
belonged to Mr. Pertell, was taken.
"That barn dance will be fun," said Alice to Ruth, the evening on
which it was to take place. "There's going to be a country fiddler.
Come on out and let's look at the decorations. Sandy has hung up long
strings of unshelled ears of corn. It looks just like a real country
barn now, for he's moved some of his machinery into it, and there's
going to be a real cow there!"
"Mercy, I'm not going to take part, then!" cried Ruth, nervously.
"I'm afraid of cows."
"Silly! This one will be tied. And you've got one of the principal
parts. You're to dance with the young son of the rich farmer, and
fall in love with him, and I'm to be the jealous one, and all that
sort of thing, you know."
"Yes, I know. Haven't I been studying my part for the last week? But
I know I'll never do that Virginia Reel right. Since we learned the
new dances I've forgotten all the old ones."
The two sisters went out to the old structure, but it seemed
deserted. They looked in and saw how well Sandy had arranged it to
make an effective picture for the camera.
"Come on," invited Alice, humming a tune.
Ruth advanced toward her sister, to take a dancing position, when a
noise startled the girls. It was the same sort of noise they had
heard before, when their father, Mr. Pertell and Sandy had made an
unsuccessful attempt to learn the cause of it.
"What's that?" gasped Ruth.
"I--I don't know," whispered Alice. But she did know--it was that
same strange sound, as of a heavy body falling. And this time there
was a groan--the girls were sure of this.
Without another word they ran out of the barn, hand in hand toward
the farmhouse, intending to give an alarm. And, as they got outside,
they saw, running off in the dusk, across the fields, a man who
limped as he sped onward.