A MASSED ATTACK
While Russ Dalwood and his helper were grinding their cameras, reeling
away at the film on which was being impressed the shifting vision of
Estelle Brown taking her hazardous leap, Alice, Ruth, and the others
were watching to see how the daring young horsewoman would come out of
it.
"She's going to land in a minute!" exclaimed Miss Dixon.
"In a minute? In a half second!" cried Alice. "But don't talk!"
"There--she's fallen!" gasped Miss Pennington.
With his feet gathered under him, Petro had come down straight on the
sliding, shifting sand of the embankment. For a moment it looked as
though he had stumbled and that Estelle would be thrown.
But she held a firm rein, and leaned far back in the saddle. The horse
stiffened and then, keeping upright with his forelegs straight out in
front of him and his hind ones bunched under him, he began to slide.
Down the embankment he slid, as the Italian cavalrymen sometimes ride
their horses, with Estelle firm in the saddle. And, as a matter of fact,
the girl said afterward it was from having seen some moving pictures of
these Italian army riders that she got the idea of doing as she did.
"She won't fall!" murmured Paul.
"Oh, I'm so glad! The picture will be a success, won't it?"
"I should think so," Paul said. "It certainly was a daring ride."
"I wouldn't mind doing it if I had her horse," put in Maurice Whitlow,
smirking at the girls. "I think you could do that, Miss DeVere," and he
looked at Alice.
She turned away with only a murmured reply, but, nothing daunted, the
"pest" went on:
"Estelle is certainly a fine rider. I think she must have been a cowgirl
on a ranch at one time, though she won't admit it."
"She wouldn't to you, at any rate," said Paul, significantly.
"Why not?"
"Oh, if you don't know it's of no use to tell you. Look! Now she goes
into the water!"
The action called for the halting at the top of the embankment of the
Confederate riders, who dared not make the jump. They fired some futile
shots at Estelle, then rode around to a less dangerous descent to try to
catch her. But Estelle was to ford the stream and continue on to the
Union lines with her message.
Reaching the bottom of the slope, her horse gathered himself together
for another bit of moving picture work. At the edge of the stream
another camera man was stationed, for Estelle and her horse were by this
time too far away from Russ and his helper to make good views possible.
Into the water splashed the girl, urging on her spirited horse, that was
none the worse for his jump and his long slide.
"Good work! Good work!" cried an assistant director, who was stationed
near the stream to see that all went according to the scenario. "Keep
on, Miss Brown!"
Estelle bent low over her horse's neck, to escape possible bullets from
the Confederate guns, and on and on she raced until she pulled up at the
tent of "General" DeVere. Here her mission ended, after the father of
Alice and Ruth, in a dusty uniform of a Union officer, had come out in
response to the summons from his orderly.
Estelle slipped from her saddle, registered exhaustion, saluted and held
out the paper she had brought through the Confederate lines at such
risk. Nor was the risk wholly one of the play, for she might have been
seriously hurt in her perilous leap.
But, fortunately, everything came out properly and a fine series of
pictures resulted.
"I'm so glad!" Estelle exclaimed, when it was all over, and, divested of
her padding, she sat in her room with Ruth and Alice. "I want to 'make
good' in this business, and riding seems to be my forte."
"Do you like it better than anything else?" asked Alice.
"Yes, I do. And I just love moving pictures, don't you?"
"Indeed we do," put in Ruth. "But we were never cut out for riders."
"I'd like it!" exclaimed Alice. "I'd like to know how to ride a horse as
well as you do."
"I'll show you," offered Estelle. "I'll be very glad to, and it's easy.
It's like swimming--all you need is confidence, and to learn not to be
afraid of your horse but to trust him. Let me show you some day."
"I believe I will!" decided Alice, with flashing eyes. "It will be
great."
"Better ask father," suggested Ruth.
"Oh, he'll let me, I know. We've ridden some, you know; but I would like
to ride as well as Estelle," and Alice and Estelle began to talk over
their plans for taking and giving riding lessons. In the midst of the
talk the return of the boy who went daily to the village for mail was
announced.
"Oh, I hope my new waist has come!" Alice exclaimed, for she had written
to her dressmaker to send one by parcel post. There was a package for
her--the one she expected--and also some letters, as well as one for
Ruth. Estelle showed no interest when the distribution of the mail was
going on.
"Don't you expect anything?" asked Alice.
"Any what?"
"Letters."
"Why, no, I don't believe I do," was the slowly given answer. "I don't
write any, so I don't get any, I suppose," and both girls noticed that
there was a far-away look in Estelle's eyes. Perhaps it was a wistful
look, for surely all girls like to get letters from some one.
"I believe she is estranged from her family," decided Alice to her
sister afterward. "Did you see how pathetic she looked when we got
letters and she didn't?"
"Well, I didn't notice anything special," Ruth replied. "But there is
something queer about her, I must admit. She is so absent-minded at
times. This morning I asked her if she wanted to go for a walk, and she
said she had no ticket."
"No ticket?"
"Yes, that's what she said. And when I laughed and told her one didn't
need a ticket to walk around Oak Farm, she sort of 'came to' and said
she was thinking about a boat."
"A boat--what boat?"
"That was all she said. Then she began to talk about something else."
"Do you know what I think?" asked Alice, suddenly.
"No. But then you think so many things it isn't any wonder I can't keep
track of them."
"I think, as I believe I've said before, that she has run away from some
ranch to be in moving pictures. That's why she doesn't write or receive
letters. She doesn't want her folks to know where she is."
"I can hardly believe that," declared Ruth. "She is too nice and refined
a girl to have done anything like that. No, I just think she is a bit
queer, that is all. But certainly she doesn't tell much about herself."
However, further speculation regarding Estelle Brown was cut short, as
orders came for the appearance of nearly the entire company in one of
the plays.
The first scene was to take place in a Southern town, and for the
purpose a street had been constructed by Pop Snooks and his helpers.
There was a stately mansion, smaller houses, a store or two and some
other buildings. True, the buildings were but shells, and, in some
cases, only fronts, but they showed well in the picture.
Ruth, Alice, and a number of the girls and women and men were to be the
inhabitants of this village, and were to take part in an alarm and flee
the place when it was known that the Confederate forces were being
driven back and through the place by the Unionists.
"Come on--get dressed!" cried Alice, and soon she, her sister, Estelle
and the other women were donning their Southern costumes, wide skirts,
with hoops to puff them out, and broad-brimmed hats, under which curls
showed.
There was to be a massed attack by the Unionists on the town, through
which the Confederates were to flee, and it was the part of Ruth and
Alice to rush from their father's "mansion" bearing a few of their
choice possessions.
All was in readiness. The Southern defenders were on the outskirts of
the town, drawn up to receive the Unionists. Toward these Confederates,
their enemies came riding. This was filmed separately, while other
camera men, in the made street, took pictures of the activities there.
Men, women and children went in and out of the houses. Though, as Mr.
Belix Apgar said, "If you call them houses you might as well call the
smell of an onion a dinner. There ain't nothin' to 'em!"
Suddenly an excited rider dashed into the midst of the peaceful
activities of the Southern town.
"They're coming! They're coming!" he cried, waving his hat. "The Yankees
are coming!" This would be flashed on the screen.
Then ensued a wild scene. Colored mammies rushed here and there seeking
their charges. Men began to look to their arms. Then came the advance
guard of the retreating Confederates, turning back to fire at their
enemies.
"Come on now, Ruth--Alice! This is where we make our rush--just as the
first of the Union soldiers appear!" called Paul, who was acting the
part of a Southern youth. "Grab up your stuff and come on!"
Ruth was to carry a bandbox and a case supposed to contain the family
jewels. Alice, who played the part this time of a frivolous young woman,
was to save her pet cat.
"Here they come!" yelled Paul, as the first of the Unionists came into
view at the head of the street. "Hurry, girls!"
Out they rushed, down the steps of the mansion, fleeing before the
mounted Union soldiers, who laughed and jeered, firing at the
Confederates, who were retreating.
Ruth and Estelle, with some of the other women, were in the lead. Alice
had lingered behind, for the cat showed a disposition to wiggle out of
her arms, and she wanted to keep it to make an effective picture.
Finally the creature did make its escape, but Alice was not going to
give up so easily. She started in pursuit, and then one of the Union
soldiers, Maurice Whitlow, spurred his horse forward. He wanted to get
in the foreground of the picture and took this chance.
"Get back where you belong!" yelled the director angrily. "Who told you
to get in the spotlight? Get back!"
But it was too late. Alice, in pursuit of the cat, was running straight
toward Whitlow's horse, and the next moment she slipped and went down,
almost under the feet of the prancing animal.