HARD AT WORK
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Mr. Pertell. "I might have known that if
Switzer came anywhere near his German friends he'd be off having a
confab with them. Go after him, somebody! It's only five minutes to
train time, and it will take those Germans that long to say how-de-do to
one another, without getting down to business."
"I'll get him," offered Paul, hurrying off toward the swinging doors.
"I'll go wit' youse," said the newsboy. "I likes t' listen t' him talk.
Does he do a Dutch act?"
"Sometimes," laughed Paul.
"Youse is actors, ain't youse?" the boy asked.
"Movies," answered Paul, hurrying along toward the entrance to the
shipyards.
"I wuz in 'em onct," went on the lad. "Dey wuz a scene where us guys wuz
sellin' papes, an' anudder guy comes along, and t'rows a handful of
money in de street--he had so much he didn't know what t' do wit'
it--dat wuz in de picture," he explained. "I wuz in de scene."
"Was it real money?" asked Paul.
"Naw--nottin' but tin," and the tone expressed the disappointment that
had been experienced. "But we each got a quarter out of it fer bein' in
de picture, so we didn't make out so worse. Dere's your friend now," and
the newsboy pointed to the comedian standing at the entrance to one of
the piers, talking to the watchman. Both had raised their voices high,
and were using their hands freely.
"Hey, Mr. Switzer, come along!" cried Paul. "It's time for the train."
"Ach! Der train! I t'ought der vos plenty of time. I vant to see a
friend of mine who is living on vun of dese wessels. Haven't I got der
time?"
"No, not a minute to spare. You can see him when you come back."
"Ach! Maybe I neffer comes back. If I get in der war plays I may be
shotted."
"Oh, come on!" laughed Paul, while the newsboy went into amused
contortions at the exaggerated language and gestures of Mr. Switzer.
"See you later, Hans!" called the comedian to the watchman at the pier.
"Ach, Himmel! Vot I care!" the latter cried. "I don't care even if you
comes back neffer! You can't get on dose ship!" and he waved his hand at
the big vessels, interned to prevent their capture by the British
warships.
"I was having quite an argument with him," said Mr. Switzer, speaking
"United States," as he walked back to the station with Paul.
"Wouldn't he let you go on board?"
"No. Took me for an English spy, I guess. But I know one of der
officers, and I thought I'd have time for a chat with him."
"Mr. Pertell is in a hurry," said the young actor.
"Well, if we miss this train there's another."
"Not until to-morrow, and he wants to start the rehearsals the first
thing in the morning."
"Ach! Den dat's differunt alretty yet again, wasn't it so?" and Mr.
Switzer winked at the admiring newsboy, and tossed him a quarter, with
the advice to get a pretzel and use it for a watch charm. Whereat the
boy went into convulsive laughter again.
"What do you mean, Switzer, by going off just at train time?" demanded
the indignant director and manager.
"Train time is der time to go off--so long as you don't go off der
track!" declared the German. "But I vanted to go on--not go off--I
vanted to go on der ships only dey vouldn't let me. However, better late
than be a miss vot's like a bird in der hand," and with a shrug of his
shoulders and a last wink at the newsboy, Mr. Switzer went out to the
waiting train with the others.
It was a long and rather tedious ride to Oak Farm, which lay some miles
back in the hills from the railroad station, and it was late afternoon
when the company of moving picture actors and actresses arrived, to be
greeted by Sandy Apgar and his father and his mother.
"Well, I _am_ glad to see you all again!" cried Sandy, shaking hands
with Mr. DeVere, the girls and the others. "It seems like old times!"
"We're glad dot you are glad!" declaimed Mr. Switzer. "Haf you any more
barns vot need burning down?"
"Not this time," laughed Sandy. "One barn-burning is enough for me." A
barn, an old one, had been destroyed on the occasion of the previous
visit of the moving picture company--a burning barn being called for in
one of the scenes.
Oak Farm was a big place, and, in anticipation of the war plays to be
enacted there, several buildings had been built to accommodate the extra
actors and actresses, where they could sleep and eat. The DeVere girls
and the other members of the regular company would board at the
farmhouse as they had done before.
Hard work began early the next day. There was much to do in the way of
preliminary preparation, and Pop Snooks, the property man, with a corps
of assistants, was in his element. While Ruth, Alice and the others were
going through a rehearsal of their parts without, of course, the proper
scenic background, the property man was setting up the different "sets"
needed in the various scenes.
While they were working on one piece, Sandy Apgar came along on his way
to look after some of the farming operations.
"Hello!" he cried. "Say! you fellows did that mighty quick."
"Did what?" asked Alice, who stood near, not being engaged for the time
being.
"Why, dug that well. I didn't know you could strike water so soon," and
he pointed to an old-fashioned well with a sweep, which stood not far
from the house. "What'd you use--a post-hole digger?" he asked. "What
sort of water did you strike?"
Before any one could answer him he strode over to the well, and, as he
looked down into it, a puzzled look came over his face.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he cried. "'Tain't a well at all! Only an
imitation!"
And that was what it was. Some canvas had been stretched in a circle
about a framework, and painted to represent stones. The well itself
stood on top of the ground, not being dug out at all. It made a
perfectly good water-scene, with a sweep, a chain, a bucket and all.
"I'm supposed to stand there and draw water for the thirsty soldiers,"
explained Ruth, coming up at this point.
"Huh! How are you goin' to git water out of there?" demanded Sandy.
"It's as dry as a bone. Why, I've got a good well over there," and he
pointed to a real one, under an apple tree.
"That's in the shade--couldn't get any pictures there," explained Russ.
"The well has to be out in the open."
"But what about water?" asked Sandy. "Hang me if I ever heard of a well
without water!"
"We'll run a hose up to this one," explained Pop Snooks. "A man will lie
down behind the well-curb, where he won't show in the camera. As fast as
Ruth lowers her bucket into the well the man'll fill the pail with water
for the soldiers to drink. It'll be quicker than a real well, and if we
find we don't like it in one place we can move it to another. This is a
movable well."
"Well, I'll be----" began Sandy, but words failed him. "This is sure a
queer business," he murmured as he strode off.
The hard work of preparation continued. All about the farm queer parts
of buildings were being erected, extra barns, out-houses, bits of fence,
and the like.
In what are called close-up scenes only a small part of an object shows
in the camera, and often when a magnificent entrance to a marble house
is shown, it is only a plaster-of-Paris imitation of a door with a
little frame around it.
What is outside of that would not photograph; so what is the use of
building it? Of course in many scenes real buildings figure, but they
are not built for the purpose.
In one of the war plays a small barn was to be shown, and a soldier was
supposed to jump through the window of this to escape pursuit. As none
of the regular buildings at Oak Farm was in the proper location, Pop
Snooks had been ordered to build a barn.
He did. That is, he built one side of it, propping it up with braces
from behind, where they would not show. The window was there, and some
boards; so that, seen through the camera, it looked like a small part of
a big out-building.
Some hay was piled on the ground to one side, away from the camera, and
it was on this hay that the escaping soldier would land. Then Ruth was
to come to him, and go through some scenes. But these would be interior
views, which would be taken in the improvised studio erected on the farm
for this purpose.
Mr. Switzer was to be the soldier, and would plunge through the barn
window head first. He was called on to rehearse the scenes a few days
after the semblance of a barn had been put in position and the hay laid
out to make his landing safe.
"Are you ready?" asked Mr. Pertell, who was directing the scene. "All
ready, there, Switzer?"
"Sure, as ready as I ever shall be."
"All right, then. Now, you understand, you come running out of those
bushes over there, and when you get out you stop for a minute and
register caution. Look on all sides of you. Then you see the barn and
the open window. Register surprise and hope. You say, 'Ah, I shall be
safe in there!'
"Then you run, look back once or twice to see if you are pursued, and
make a dive, head first, through the open window on to the hay. All
ready now?"
"Sure, I'm ready!"
"How about you, Russ?"
"Let her go."
"All ready, then! Camera!"
Russ began to grind away at the film. Mr. Switzer had taken his place in
the clump of bushes, his ragged Union garments flapping in the wind. He
came out, looked furtively around, and then, giving the proper
"registration," he advanced cautiously toward the barn.
"Go on now--run!" cried Mr. Pertell through his megaphone.
The German actor ran. He made a beautiful leap through the window, and
the next moment there came from him howls of dismay.
"Donner vetter! Ach Himmel! Ach! My face! My hands! Hey, somebody! bring
a pail of water! Quick!"