THE ASSAULT ON THE "CASTLE."
"Yes, there goes the signal!" burst from the excited Alec, as they saw
the manager suddenly raise his hand, and fire a revolver three times
in quick succession.
Immediately everybody seemed to get busy at once. Most of the
battle-scarred veterans, who knew their business so well, started in
just about where the last stirring scene had left off. Possibly those
who had been "killed" in the former desperate assault had found time
to come mysteriously to life again, leaving a dummy in their stead to
be ruthlessly trampled on, now assumed new places in the ranks, to make
the assailants and defenders look more like a veritable "host."
The scouts held their breath in very awe. What they were looking at
was indeed quite enough to make any one do that. Certainly no such
remarkable scene had ever before been "set" since those actual days
when Crusaders and Saracens met in mortal combat on the plains of the
Holy Land, and knights went forth to battle in joust and tournament
wearing a fair lady's glove on their helmet as a talisman for luck.
Of course Hugh, as well as most of his young companions, had read
some of the romantic works of Sir Walter Scott, and were familiar
with his vivid descriptions of just such warlike pictures as they
now saw delighted Hugh, indeed, was of the opinion that it might be
one of these that the famous players of the motion picture world were
now acting, and the name of "Ivanhoe" was uppermost in his mind as
he watched the progress of the furious battle.
There were women folks in the castle, too, for occasionally they could
be seen frantically spurring their defenders on to renewed exertions.
Others may have been playing the part of prisoners, for the boys
discovered a white handkerchief waving from a window in one of the
turrets, as though to encourage the assailants in their work. Perhaps
this was Rebecca in her cell, Hugh thought.
All of this just about suited the imagination of red-blooded boys as
proper and right. It had been virtually going on ever since the world
began, and would in all probability endure so long as men lived on
this planet.
Now and then, when one of the scouts discovered something that
particularly interested him, and to which he wished to draw the
attention of his mates, he found it necessary to fairly bawl the fact,
so as to be heard above the wild clamor.
As a rule, this appertained to Monkey Stallings and Billy. Hugh was
wrapped up in observing all that went on, and it required his undivided
attention, just as on the occasion of his visiting a big circus where
wonderful events were taking place in three rings at the same time.
Arthur Cameron, on his part, was mentally figuring on how much surgical
attention some of these doughty warriors would need after this amazing
fracas; and when Arthur had his mind set upon that entrancing subject
he might be considered blind to all ordinary matters.
As for Alec, his one idea was to snap off an occasional picture that
would show the astonishing thing he and his lucky comrades had run
across when the motion-picture players came to make use of the imitation
castle on the peak. The only trouble with Alec was a dreadful fear
that his supply of film might run out, and then he stood a chance of
missing what was likely to prove the best part of the whole proceedings.
Already he had reached Number Ten on his last roll, with but two more
to wind up. Oh, what would he not have given for a couple more rolls
of a dozen exposures each; just then they would have been worth their
weight in silver to the ambitious photographer.
Vague hopes had been playing at leap-tag in the mind of the scout
picture-taker. He wondered if there might not be some way in which
they could succeed in influencing that hopping stage manager to promise
to sell them a duplicate set of the pictures when they were ready
for showing to the public. Alec knew that they were rented out, and
sometimes sold outright. If Hugh now, with his persuasive tongue,
could only exact such a promise from the gentleman in charge, would
it not be a splendid achievement to incidentally have the picture
included in the programme to be run at the town hall for some local
benefit; and then hear the shouts from the boys of Oakvale when they
discovered familiar uniforms and faces amidst the actors at rest?
From various remarks which the boys had heard shouted by the stage
directors in giving his last directions they understood that this
attack was calculated to carry the fort. Already the men who wielded
that heavy battering ram made from a convenient log, seemed to be
smashing in the stout oaken front door, never built to resist such
a desperate assault. It quivered with each blow.
The director was shouting a medley of orders through that wonderful
megaphone of his. He seemed to be able to see everything that took
place. Hugh compared him to what he had once read about the eminent
conductor of orchestra and musical festivals, Theodore Thomas, who
when more than a hundred musicians were practicing under his direction,
with a fearful outburst of sound and melody, would suddenly stop the
proceedings, and scold a certain player whose instrument had "flatted,"
or come in just an ace behind the regular time.
And every member of that vast company was keeping a wary eye on the
director all the time seeming to be working like mad. They were waiting
to catch the signal that was to inaugurate the final scene, where
those on the walls were to weaken, allowing one after another of the
ascending men on the ladders to crawl over the parapet.
The door was really giving way now under the bombardment brought to
bear upon it. Indeed, not to be premature those who wielded the
battering ram had to slacken their efforts more or less, though
pretending to work as furiously as heretofore.
One thing alone seemed lacking, according to the mind of Billy, to make
the battle seem the real thing. There were no cannon shots, and even
the rattle of muskets and small arms appeared lacking.
Later on, when by chance in a carping, critical mood he mentioned
this fact, he was greeted by a roar of derision from Monkey Stallings
and Alec, who told him to brush up a little on history. He must remember
that in those ancient days gunpowder had not been invented, and that
consequently all missiles that passed through the air had to be hurled
by machines fashioned after the style of the familiar rubber sling
so well known to all boys.
"It's coming soon now, fellows!" shouted the Stallings boy, whose
quick eye no doubt noted certain preparations for the final scene,
such as a gathering of the assailants on the ladders, now no longer
being overthrown, and also clinging to such projections of the stone
walls near the escarpment as they could find.
Alec held his hand.
"Only one more picture!" he was groaning, disconsolately, at the same
time determined that it should be the climax of the whole affair, when
the castle walls were actually carried by the energetic horde pushing
against them.
More wildly than ever waved those frantic appeals for "help" from
the narrow window slits in the tower room. The "fair lady" was apparently
doing everything in her power to encourage her knight and his followers
to renewed efforts in her behalf.
Of course, it was a foregone conclusion that the gallants who were
doing the assaulting would be victorious in the end. Motion-picture
patrons differ from those who attend the grand opera, since they will
not stand to have their drama turn out disagreeably. Right must always
triumph over might, regardless of how it actually happens in real life;
and the villainous knight was sure to be punished as soon as the heroic
leader of the attacking party could force an entrance to the castle,
and chase after him to the tower room.
Hugh drew a long breath.
Just as the sagacious Monkey had declared at the top of his voice, the
finish was close at hand now. At any second Hugh expected to hear the
volley of shots from the stage director's weapon sounding high above
the clamor. Indeed, much of the racket had died down, showing that
the actors themselves were looking for it, and did not want to do
anything to smother the welcome sound that would mean their release
from further toil and turmoil, for the moment, at least.
All this while the operator was grinding away assiduously. He knew
his duty was to get down everything that happened regardless of what
his judgment might be. If certain sections of the film proved
objectionable from any cause it would be an easy matter to eliminate
that part; whereas nothing new could be supplied without going over
the whole scene again at tremendous cost of energy.
It was certainly an education for Hugh. He had never dreamed that such
a splendid chance would come his way, allowing him to learn just how
motion pictures were made. Truly, the wonderful good luck that had
been the portion of himself and comrades for so long a period seemed
to still follow their footsteps, as one of the boys had only recently
declared.
And just then the shrill voice of Monkey Stallings rang out again, this
time with a note of genuine alarm pervading its tones.
"Look, oh, look!" was what he shrieked, excitedly; "that wall is sure
going to collapse right down on those men! That's real, not
make-believe! Oh, Hugh, can't something be done to warn the poor
fel---there, it's coming now!"
And right through it all the imperturbable operator kept grinding away.
It was a part of his business to get everything down, real or imitation;
and even an accident that imperiled human life might make good "stuff."