A DARING RAID
"Where are they?"
"Which way shall we shoot?"
Joe and Blake questioned thus by turn as they leaped to Hank's side.
They were in darkness now, for the cowboy had ceased shooting, and those
who had come to attack had likewise allowed their weapons to become
silent. As a matter of fact, Hank Selby had only fired in the air, if
possible to frighten off the Indians, and it seemed that the redmen had
done the same, since there was no whine of bullets over the head of the
guide.
"What is it?" asked Blake, fingering the rifle he had caught up as he
rushed from the tent.
"Indians," replied Hank, in a low voice. "It's probably some band of
Moquis or Navajos, who escaped being rounded up as the others were.
Probably they were chased so hard, or were so surprised at one of their
camps, that they had to leave without their ponies. And they do hate to
walk. They saw our animals and tried to get 'em, but I was suspicious
all along."
"But where are they now?" asked Joe, peering out into the darkness. "I
can't see a thing, and our animals seem to be all there."
"The beggars dropped down, and are hiding," said the cowboy. "They
didn't like the quick way I fired on 'em, I guess; though, land knows! I
don't want to hurt any of 'em if I can help it. They don't know just
what to do, and they're biding their time."
"Did they get any of our horses--or things?" asked Blake, anxiously, his
thoughts on the valuable films.
"Not as yet," replied Hank. "But this thing isn't over with. They'll
come back, once they decide it's worth while. We've got to get ready for
'em."
"How?" asked Blake.
"Well, we've got to pile our stuff up as a sort of shelter, and then
we've got to bring in the animals. It won't do to have the imps run off
with 'em, and that's what they're aiming to do."
"But won't it be risky to go out there in the darkness to bring in the
ponies and burros?" asked Joe. "You say the Indians are concealed out
there."
"So I believe they are," replied Hank. "But I fancy my shooting drove
'em back a bit, even though I did fire in the air, or so high over their
heads that they couldn't be harmed. So I guess we can make a move out
there without getting hurt. Anyhow, it's got to be done, and, as I know
more about such business than you boys, having been at it longer, I'll
just attend to that. You'd better make the best sort of breastworks you
can. For, though I don't believe these beggars will actually shoot to
hurt, still it's best to be on the safe side. Be cautious, now."
And, while Hank is thus preparing to secure the pack and saddle animals,
and the boys to gather the boxes and bales into a compact mass, I will
take just a few moments to tell you more about the moving picture lads
than I have yet done.
In the first book of this series, entitled "The Moving Picture Boys; Or,
The Perils of a Great City Depicted," I introduced to you Joe Duncan and
Blake Stewart. At that time they lived in the village of Fayetteburg, in
the central part of New York State. Blake worked on the farm of his
uncle, Jonathan Haverstraw, while Joe was hired boy for Zachariah
Bradley. And it happened that they both lost their places at the same
time.
Blake's uncle decided to retire to a Home for the Aged, and Mr. Bradley
said he could no longer afford to pay Joe any wages. The boys did not
know what to do until they made the acquaintance of Mr. Calvert Hadley,
a moving picture photographer. The latter had come to Fayetteburg with a
theatrical company to get some views in a country drama that was being
enacted, some of the scenes being laid in the nearby city of Syracuse.
Blake and Joe watched a mimic rescue scene in the creek, thinking it
real, and later Mr. Hadley offered them work as his assistants in New
York. He was employed by the Film Theatrical Company, to make its moving
pictures.
The boys jumped at the chance. Before the little country drama was over,
however, an accident occurred, in full view of the moving picture
camera. Mrs. Betty Randolph, a wealthy Southern lady, was run into,
while riding in her carriage, by a reckless autoist. Mrs. Randolph
offered a reward for the arrest of this man, who escaped in the
confusion, and urged the two boys to try to effect his capture.
They said they would, and how they went to New York, learned the moving
picture business, and helped Mr. Hadley get films for his "moving
picture newspaper," is all set down in the first book.
The perils of taking views in a great city, at fires, elevated railroad
accidents, burning vessels, of divers at work, in making educational
films--all this is told.
Eventually, while making scenes at a thrilling balloon ascension, Joe
and Blake discovered the reckless autoist and gave chase in a car. They
caught him, too, and got the reward, with which they purchased some
moving picture cameras, and went into business on their own account.
They made films to order, and were often employed by Mr. Hadley or by
Mr. Ringold, head of the Film Theatrical Company.
This company consisted of a number of actors and actresses who were
engaged to enact various sorts of plays and dramas before the camera.
Among them was Henry Robertson, who did "juvenile leads"; Harris
Levinberg, the "villain"; Miss Nellie Shay, the leading lady, and Miss
Birdie Lee, who did girls' parts. Last, but not least, was Christopher
Cutler Piper--known variously as "C. C." or "Gloomy." He preferred to be
called just C. C., not liking his two first names, but he was so often
looking on the dark side of life, and predicting direful happenings that
never came to pass, that he was often dubbed "Gloomy." However, he was
the comedian of the troupe, and could utter the most unhappy expressions
while doing the most comical acting.
It was not all easy sailing for the two lads. One man--James Munson, a
rival moving picture proprietor--often made trouble for them, and once
put them in no little danger.
After having helped Mr. Hadley make a success of his moving picture
newspaper, by means of which current happenings, and accidents, were
nightly thrown on a screen in various theatres, Joe and Blake, as I
said, went into business for themselves.
In the second volume of the series, entitled "The Moving Picture Boys in
the West; Or, Taking Scenes Among the Cowboys and Indians," our heroes
had an entirely different series of adventures.
Mr. Ringold decided to take his theatrical troupe to Arizona, there to
make films for a number of Western dramas. He asked the boys if they
would like to join Mr. Hadley in doing this work. At the same time a New
York scientific society, engaged in preserving records, pictures and
photographic reproductions of the Indians, made a prize offer for the
best film showing the redmen in their ceremonial dances. The time was
particularly ripe for this, as a band of the Moquis, as well as several
tribes of Navajos, had broken from the government reservations to
indulge in their strange rites.
As the boys found that they could do the two things--take the views of
the Indians, and make the theatrical pictures--they accepted the offer.
Just before they left, however, Joe received a strange letter. It was
from a man signing himself Sam Houston Reed, who stated that he had met
a man who was looking for a Joe Duncan. Joe, who had known there was
some mystery about his early life, was overjoyed at the prospect of
finding some "folks," and wished very much to meet Mr. Reed. But the
latter had neglected to date, or put any heading on his letter. All
there was to go by was part of a postmark, which showed it came from
Arizona, and Mr. Reed also mentioned Big B ranch.
However, the moving picture boys and the theatrical company started
West. On the way the boys had a glimpse of their rivals, also hastening
to get the Indian views.
How they got to Flagstaff, made many views there, and then how Joe and
Blake started to find the place where the runaway Indians were hidden
away, doing their mysterious dances--all this is told in the second
volume.
Eventually they reached Big B ranch, only to find that Mr. Reed, like a
rolling stone, had gone. However, some of the cowboys remembered him,
and had heard him talk of having met a certain Bill Duncan, whose
half-brother, Nate, was looking for a lost son. It was supposed that
this Nate Duncan was Joe's father.
As nothing toward finding Mr. Duncan could then be done, Joe and Blake
kept on toward the Indian country. A cowboy, Hank Selby, offered to
accompany them, and they were glad he did.
They had many adventures before getting on the track of the Indians, and
when they found them in a secret valley, and, concealed in a cave, began
taking moving pictures, they discovered, as I have said, four white men
in danger of torture.
How they rescued them, how the troopers came, and how one turned out to
be Bill Duncan, Joe's half-uncle, I have mentioned in this book as well
as in the second volume. And, on their way back to Big B ranch and to
Flagstaff, the night attack had taken place.
"How are you making out, Blake?" asked Joe, as he worked at stacking up
the boxes and bales into a sort of rude breastwork near the shelter
tents.
"All right, Joe," was the answer. "I hope Hank makes the animals safe."
"He doesn't seem to be having much trouble. I can't see any of the
Indians now."
"No, they're probably hiding down in the grass, waiting for a chance to
make a raid. I wonder how many there are?"
"Quite a bunch, I should say, from the shooting. Here comes Hank now."
As he spoke, the cowboy appeared, leading by their long tether ropes the
riding ponies and the pack animals. The steeds showed signs of their
recent excitement. Had it not been for the alarm they gave they might
have been stolen without our friends being any the wiser.
"See any of 'em, Hank?" questioned Joe.
"No, but they're there, all right. Boys, there may be some hot work
ahead of us. You want to get ready for it."
"Do--do you think they'll shoot?" asked Blake.
"Well, they'll do their best to get our things away from us," was the
answer. "They're desperate, I'm afraid."
Hank busied himself tethering the steeds nearer the temporary camp,
while Joe and Blake finished their labors in building a defense against
the possible rush of the redmen.
This was hardly finished, and they had scarcely collected a pile of
brush to make a bright fire, if necessary, when there arose all around
fierce shouts. At the same time there was a fusillade of shots; but, as
far as could be seen, all the Indians were firing in the air.
"Look out!" yelled Hank. "They're going to rush us!"
Before he ceased speaking there was the sound of many feet running
forward. The shooting and shouting redoubled in volume, and the restless
animals tried to break loose.
"The imps!" cried Hank. "They're trying to stampede our animals, just as
they did the cattle that time. Look out, boys!"
But nothing could be done against such numbers. The camp was overwhelmed
in a daring raid, and though the boys and Hank did all they could,
firing wildly in the air, they could not stand off the attack. Strangely
enough, no effort was made to mistreat the boys or their companion. The
Indians simply rushed over them and made for the pile of goods in the
rear of the tents. They did not even seem to be after the horses.
"Stop 'em!" cried Blake. "They'll take all our things!"
"Our cameras!" yelled Joe. "They may break 'em!"
Hank had all he could do to restrain the wild steeds, which sought to
break loose.
The rush was over almost as quickly as it had started. Off into the
darkness disappeared the Indians, their shooting and yelling growing
fainter and fainter.
"I saved the horses!" cried Hank.
"Yes, but they got a lot of our stuff!" exclaimed Blake. "Joe, throw
some wood on the fire, so we can see what is missing!"