IN THE SMOKE
"Do you think he'll die?" asked Estelle, as she took the reins and
flicked the horse lightly with the whip.
"I hope not," answered Alice.
"Did it make you faint to see the blood?"
"A little. Did it you?"
"Yes. I can't bear it! It makes me---- Oh, it makes me----"
Estelle closed her eyes, and Alice was surprised to see her turn pale,
even under her rouge, and shudder.
"That's queer," Alice said. "I should have thought, being on a ranch as
you were, you might have become used to accidents and scenes of
violence."
"Who said I was on a ranch?"
"Why, you did!"
"I did?"
"Yes; don't you remember? That day when we were talking about branding
cows----"
"Oh, maybe I did. I'd forgotten. Oh, dear! here comes an auto, and I'm
not sure about this horse. I'm afraid he'll start to rear."
At this intimation that there might be trouble, Alice's face took on a
worried look, and she fore-bore to press the questions she had been
asking Estelle.
The horse showed some signs of fear as he passed the automobile in the
road, but the man driving the car was considerate enough to stop his
machine and motion to the girls to pass. They did so, the horse getting
as far to one side of the road as he could, his nostrils distended and
his ears pricked forward.
"There! Thank goodness that's over!" sighed Estelle. "Now to make speed
and get that doctor. I hope the man doesn't die."
"I do too," acquiesced Alice. "Did you see how sharply the man looked at
us?"
"Who, the man that was shot?"
"No, the one in the auto. He stared and stared!"
"Probably he wondered where in the world we got a horse in these days
that was afraid of an auto. I wonder myself where this steed has been in
hiding. There are so many cars now that it is a wonder horses aren't
using gasoline as perfume."
"No, he wasn't looking at the horse," persisted Alice. "He was looking
at us. Perhaps he knew you, Estelle."
"Why do you say that? I'm sure I never saw him before. Maybe it was you
he was staring at."
"No, it was you he was staring at, but I don't blame him. You are very
striking looking to-day."
"It's this dress. Isn't it quaint?"
"And pretty! Oh, but we mustn't talk so frivolously when that poor man
may be dying. We must drive faster."
"Talking isn't going to make the horse go any slower. In fact, I think
maybe he'll go quicker to get the trip over with sooner so he can be rid
of our chatter. But I don't think the poor man is badly hurt. He may
bleed a lot, but they can hold that in check until we get the doctor."
They drove on, and were presently in the village. They had been told
where Dr. Wherry had gone--to a drugstore to get some medical
supplies--and thither they made their way.
"Do you notice how every one is staring at us?" asked Alice, as they
drove along the streets.
"They do seem to be," admitted Estelle, looking for the drugstore. "I
guess it's the horse; he is so bony he has many fine points about him,
as Russ said. And we're queer looking in these costumes ourselves."
When they alighted at the pharmacy and started in, they became aware of
the growing sensation they were creating. For a little throng had
gathered in front of the store, and more men and boys came running up,
to form in two lines--a living lane--through which Alice and Estelle had
to pass.
"We certainly are creating a sensation," gasped Alice, growing
embarrassed.
"Look! a regular bridal crowd," said Estelle in a low voice.
Though they undeniably presented a pretty picture in their paint,
powder, curls and hoopskirts, they were also an unusual one for that
little country village.
"Look at the society swells!" cried one boy.
"Dat's de new fashion--makin' your nose look like a flour barrel!" added
another.
"Aren't those dresses sweet?" sighed a girl.
"They must be the latest New York style," added a companion. "I heard
that full skirts were coming in again."
"Well, ours are certainly full enough," murmured Alice, looking down at
her swaying hoops.
And then some one guessed the truth.
"They're actresses--the movie actresses!" came the cry, and this
attracted more attention than ever, for if there is one person about
whom the American public is curious, it is the actor.
"Oh my!" exclaimed Estelle, "now we are in for it. Hurry inside the
store!"
The girls fairly ran into the friendly shelter, and some of the crowd
attempted to follow, but the drug clerks barred the way, guessing what
the excitement was about.
"Dr. Wherry!" gasped Alice. "Is he here?"
"Right back there--in the prescription department," a clerk said. "Which
of you is ill?"
"Neither one!" cried Estelle. "We want him for a man out at Oak Farm.
He's been shot--an accident in the play. Tell him to hurry, please, and
then show us some way of getting out through a side door. I can't face
that crowd--this way," and she looked down at her elaborate hoop-skirted
costume, which might have been all right in the days of sixty-three, but
which was unique at the present time.
"What's the trouble?" asked Dr. Wherry, coming from behind the
ground-glass partition. "Oh, Miss DeVere and Miss Brown!" he went on as
he recognized the moving picture girls. "Is some one hurt?"
They told him quickly what the trouble was, and he cried:
"I'll go at once. You'd better come back with me in the auto if you
don't want to run the gauntlet of the staring crowd. I'll bring my
machine around to the side door."
"What about the horse we drove over?" asked Alice.
"I'll have Mr. Pertell send a man for that."
The girls, in their curiosity-exciting costumes, managed to slip out the
side door and into the doctor's automobile without attracting the
attention of the crowd. Then they made the trip back in good time and
comfort.
"And to think we never for a moment thought of changing our things!"
cried Alice, when they were at Oak Farm again.
"Or even of rubbing off some of the make-up," added Estelle. "But we
were so excited--at least I was--when I saw the poor fellow hurt. I hope
it is not serious."
"No, he's lost a little blood, that's all," said Dr. Wherry. "But I
thought you were used to such scenes, Miss Brown, coming from the West,
as you did."
"I from the West? Oh, yes, I have been there. Come on, Alice, let's see
if they still want us for anything, and, if they don't, we'll change our
clothes," and Estelle seemed glad of a chance to hurry away.
"I wonder," said Alice to her sister afterward, "whether she is really
so squeamish as she pretends, or if she doesn't want it known that she
is from the West?"
"It's hard to say. Estelle is acting more and more queerly every day, I
think."
"So do I. Though I am quite in love with her. She has such a sweet
disposition."
"Yes, she is a lovely girl. I only wish there wasn't that bit of mystery
about her."
"And it is a mystery," went on Alice. "Every once in a while I catch
Lieutenant Varley looking at her, when he thinks he isn't observed, and
he shakes his head as though he could not understand it at all."
"Then you think he still feels sure she is the girl he met in Portland?"
"I'm positive he does, and he isn't doing it to further his own ends and
force an acquaintance with her, either. He honestly believes he has met
her before."
"Well, it is very strange. But she doesn't seem to want to talk about
anything connected with her past."
"No, and I suppose we should not try to force matters."
The man who was shot was soon out of danger, and, meanwhile, the taking
of the war scenes went on with some one else in his place. A number of
sham engagements had been fought, all working up to the big final
battle, in which Ruth would play her part as an army nurse, and Alice
would act as the spy. Estelle, too, had been given a rather important
part, much to the annoyance of Miss Dixon, who had been expecting it.
The vaudeville actress made sneering and cutting remarks about "extra
players butting in," and there were veiled insinuations concerning the
missing ring, but Estelle took no notice, and Alice, Ruth and her other
friends stood loyally by her.
"We'll film that burning barn scene to-day," said Mr. Pertell one
morning at the breakfast table, when he had ascertained that the
atmospheric conditions were right. "That's the one where you two DeVere
girls are surprised on your little farm by the visit of some Union
soldiers. You have been caring for a wounded cousin, who has escaped
through the Union lines, and at the news that the Yankees are coming you
hide him in the barn. Then the Unionists set fire to it, and you girls
have to drag him out.
"There'll be no danger, of course, for the fire won't be near you--in
fact, the barn won't burn at all--only a shack nailed to it. And the
smoke will be from the regular bomb. You have plenty of them, haven't
you, Pop Snooks?"
"Oh yes, plenty of smoke bombs, Mr. Pertell."
All was soon in readiness for the burning-barn scene. Ruth and Alice
received the wounded cousin (an inside scene this) and then, when an old
colored mammie (Mrs. Maguire) came panting with the news that the
Yankees were coming, the wounded Confederate was carried out to the
barn. Then came the visit of the Yankees, who, suspecting the presence
of the escaped prisoner, made diligent search, but without success.
"Fire the barn, anyhow!" cried the captain.
Then came the spirited scene where Ruth and Alice got their wounded
relative out. He was a slim young man, and they could easily carry him,
for he was supposed to be overcome by the smoke.
"Ready, Alice?" asked Ruth, as they went through the action called for
in the script.
"Yes, ready. You take his head and I'll take his heels. Don't be too
stiff," Alice admonished the young man. "We can carry you better if
you're limp."
"I'll be limp enough if I swallow any more of that smoke," choked the
actor. "It's fierce!"
Indeed, Pop Snooks had been very liberal in the matter of smoke bombs.
Great clouds of the black vapor swirled here and there, and Ruth and
Alice had to get free breaths whenever they could.
"Come on!" yelled the director through his megaphone. "Lively!"
Alice and Ruth, half carrying, half dragging, the wounded soldier,
staggered out, Russ clicking away at the camera.
"Good! That's good! It's fine!" exclaimed the enthusiastic director.
Ruth was conscious that she was suddenly dragging more of the weight of
the man's body than at first. But she thought one of Alice's hands had
possibly slipped off, and she did not want to call a halt to get a
better hold.
"My! But this is choking!" gasped Ruth.
Finally, she staggered out into the open, dragging the soldier by his
shoulders. She slumped down on the ground, in a place free from smoke,
and registered exhaustion.
"Where's Alice?" cried Paul, who was holding back in readiness for his
appearance in the scene. "Where's Alice?"
"Isn't she there?" gasped Ruth, rising on her elbow.
"No, she isn't. She must be----"
"Hold that pose, Ruth! Don't stir or you'll spoil the scene!" yelled the
director. "We'll get your sister!"