Alice's announcement caused her sister to start in surprise. Ruth looked as if she could not understand, and Alice repeated:
"See, the man who fell is Dan Merley—the one who says daddy owes him five hundred dollars."
"I believe you're right!" agreed Russ, who had had a good look at the impudent fellow the night he invaded the DeVere rooms. "And I know one of those other men—at least by sight. His name is Jagle. Let's see what is going on here."
Fortunately no very large crowd gathered, so the girls felt it would be proper for them to remain, particularly as the accident was not of a distressing nature.
The motorman had stopped his car and had run back to the scene with the conductor.
"What's the matter here? What did you wantto get in the way of the car for, anyhow?" demanded the motorman. He was nervously excited, and the reaction at finding, after all, he had not killed a man, made him rather angry.
"Matter? Matter enough, I should say!" replied one of the men with Merley. "My friend is badly hurt. Someone get an ambulance! Fripp, you call one."
"That was Jagle who spoke," Russ whispered to the girls. "But I don't know the other one."
"He doesn't seem to be badly hurt," remarked the motorman. The conductor, with a little pad and pencil, was getting the names of witnesses to be used in case suit was brought. This is always done by street car companies, in order to protect themselves.
"Hurt? Of course he's hurt!" exclaimed the man Russ called Jagle. "See that cut on his head!"
There was a slight abrasion on Merley's forehead, but it did not seem at all serious.
"Aren't you hurt, Dan?" asked Jagle.
"Of course I am!" was the answer. "I'm hurt bad, too. Get me home, Jim."
"If he's hurt the best place for him is a hospital," remarked the motorman. "But I can't see where he's hurt."
"I can't walk, I tell you," whined Merley, andhe attempted to get up, but fell back. One of his friends caught him in his arms.
"There, you see! Of course he's hurt!" declared Jagle. "Go call an ambulance, Fripp."
"I'll get an ambulance if he really needs one," spoke a policeman, who had just come up on seeing the crowd. "Where are you hurt?"
"Something's the matter with my legs," declared Merley. "I can't use my right one, and the left one is hurt, too. My foot got caught between the rail and a piece of ice, and I couldn't get loose. My friends tried to help me, but they couldn't get me away in time. I'm hurt, and I'm hurt bad, I tell you! I think one of my legs must be run over."
"Nothing like that!" declared the motorman. "There's been no legs run over by my car!"
That was very evident.
"Get me away from here," groaned Merley.
"Well, if you're really hurt I'll call an ambulance and have you taken to the hospital," offered the policeman as he went to turn in a call.
"I sure am hurt," insisted Merley. "Why, I can hardly move now," and he seemed to stiffen all over, though there was no visible sign of injury.
"Why doesn't someone get a doctor?" a boy in the crowd asked.
"There'll be one in de hurry-up wagon!" exclaimed another urchin. "A feller in a white suit—dem's doctors. I know, cause me fadder was in de 'ospital onct."
Merley's two friends carried him to a drug store not far from the scene of the accident. Ruth and Alice shrank back as he was borne past them, for they feared he might recognize them, and cause a scene. But if he saw them, which is doubtful, he gave no sign.
"Here comes de hurry-up wagon!" cried the lad who had thus designated the ambulance. "Let's see 'em shove him on de stretcher! Say dis is great!"
"I think we had better be going, Alice, dear," said Ruth. "Daddy wouldn't like us to be in this crowd."
"Oh, I want to stay and see what happens. Besides, it might be important," Alice objected. "This is Dan Merley, who might make trouble for papa. We ought to see what happens to him. I think that whole accident was queer. He didn't seem to be hit at all, and yet he says he can't move. We ought to stay."
"If you want to go, I'll stay and let you know what happens," offered Russ. "I don't mind."
"Perhaps that would be best," said Ruth.
"All right," agreed Alice, and she and hersister, with a last look at the crowd around the ambulance, started for their apartment.
Russ came along a little later.
"What happened?" asked Ruth, when he had knocked on the door of their hall and had been admitted.
"Not much," he replied. "They took Merley home, instead of to a hospital. He wouldn't go to an institution, he said."
"Did those other two men go with him?" asked Alice.
"Who, Fripp and Jagle? No, they wouldn't be allowed to ride on the ambulance. But they got a taxicab and went off in that. I heard Jagle say to the ambulance surgeon, that he was a doctor, and that he'd attend his friend when he got him home."
"Is Jagle a doctor?" asked Alice. "He didn't look like one."
"He's asortof doctor," Russ replied. "I think he's a quack, myself. I wouldn't have him for a sick cat. But he calls himself a doctor and surgeon. So that's all that happened."
"It was enough, anyhow," remarked Ruth. "I don't like to see anybody hurt."
"I'm not so sure that fellowwashurt," said Russ, slowly.
"What do you mean?" Alice asked, curiously.
"Well, he might haveimaginedhe was. I guess he was pretty well scared at seeing that car come down on him. But I watched when he was put in the ambulance and he seemed as well as either of his friends. Only he kept insisting that he could not walk."
"It was certainly a queer accident," said Alice. "But, in spite of the fact that he is a bad man, and wants to make trouble for daddy, I hope he isn't seriously hurt."
"I don't believe it is serious," said Russ. "But it might easily have been, though, if he had fallen in front of the car instead of away from it."
"Well, there is nothing that hasn't its good side," remarked Ruth. "Emerson's idea of the law of compensation works out very nicely in this case."
"Kindly translate, sister mine," invited Alice, laughingly.
"Why, you know Emerson holds that one advantage makes up for each defect. In this case Merley has had an accident—a defect. That may cause him to stop annoying daddy—a distinct advantage to us."
"Oh, Ruth, how queer you are!" exclaimed Alice with a laugh. "I never heard of such an idea."
"Who was this Emerson—a moving picture fellow?" asked Russ.
"No, he was a great writer," explained Ruth. "I'll let you take one of his books."
"I wish you would," said Russ, seriously. "I never had much of a chance to get an education, but I like to know things."
"So do I," agreed Ruth. "I never tire of Emerson."
Mr. DeVere was surprised when he heard about the accident to Merley.
"I can't understand it," said the girls' father. "He must have been hurt, and yet—er—was he in a sensible condition, Russ?"
"Oh, yes, he seemed to be himself, all right," the young moving picture operator replied, thoughtfully. "I haven't gotten to the bottom of it myself."
And indeed it developed that there was a strange plot back of the accident—a plot which involved the moving picture girls in an amazing way, as will soon appear.
But puzzle over the odd accident as they might, neither Mr. DeVere, his daughters, nor Russ could understand what it involved.
"At any rate, as you say, Ruth," the actor remarked with a smile, "there is some compensation. He may not annoy me for some time;and, meanwhile, I may think of a plan to prove I really paid that money."
"I hope so, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "Is your throat any better?"
"Yes, much," he replied with a smile. "Dr. Rathby is going to try a new kind of spray treatment, and I had the first one this afternoon. It helped me wonderfully."
"That's good!" exclaimed Alice.
The next day's papers contained a slight reference to the accident. It was not important enough to warrant much space, and about all that was said was that Merley claimed to have received an injury that made him helpless, though its nature was a puzzle to the physician sent around by the street car company.
"Well, if he's helpless, and the Lord knows I wish that to no man," said Mr. DeVere, reverently, "he will not come here bothering you girls again. If he confines his attacks to me I do not so much mind, but he must leave you alone."
"That's what I say!" cried Russ.
When Mr. DeVere and his daughters arrived at the moving picture studio that afternoon, for they were not to report until then, they found notices posted, requesting all members of the company to remain after rehearsal to hear an "important announcement."
"I wonder what it can be?" said Ruth.
"Probably it's about the new plans Mr. Pertell has been working on," suggested Alice.
"I think so," Russ said. He knew something of them, but had not permission to reveal them.
And this proved to be the case. After the day's work was ended, and it included the filming of several scenes for important dramas, Mr. Pertell called his players together, and said:
"Ladies and gentlemen—also Tommy and Nellie, for you will be in on this, I hope—we are going to leave New York City again, and be together in a new place to make a series of plays."
"Leave New York!" gasped Miss Pennington.
"I hope we don't go to Oak Farm again!" cried Miss Dixon. "I want to be in some place where I can get a lobster now and then."
"There will be no lobsters at Deerfield!" said Mr. Pertell, with a smile, "unless there are some of the canned variety."
"How horrid!" complained Miss Pennington.
"Will there be deers there?" asked Tommy, with big eyes.
"I think there will, sonny," answered the manager.
"Reindeers—like Santa Claus has?" little Nellie wanted to know.
"Well, I guess so!" laughed Mr. Pertell. "At any rate, I plan to take you all there."
"Where is Deerfield, if one may ask?" inquired Miss Dixon, pertly.
"Deerfield is a sort of backwoods settlement, in one of our New England States," explained the manager. "It is rather isolated, but I want to go there to get some scenes for moving pictures with good snow, and ice effects as backgrounds."
"Are there good hotels there?" Miss Pennington demanded.
"We are going to stop in a big hunting lodge, that I have hired for the occasion," Mr. Pertell replied. "I think you will like it very much."
"Hold on! One moment!" exclaimed Mr. Sneed, the grouchy actor. "You may count me out of this! I shall go to no backwoods, in the middle of winter, and freeze. I cannot stand the cold. I shall resign at once!"
"One moment. Before you decide that, I have something else to say to you," said Mr. Pertell, and there was a smile on his face.
The moving picture players looked curiously at the manager, and then at Mr. Sneed. They were used to this action on his part, and also on the part of Mr. Bunn—that of resigning when anything did not suit them. But matters with either of them seldom went farther than the mere threat.
"I know it will not be as pleasant, as regards weather conditions, at Elk Lodge, Deerfield, as it was at Oak Farm," said Mr. Pertell. "But the lodge is a big building, very quaint and picturesque, I have been told, and it has all the comforts, and many of the conveniences, of life. There are big, open fireplaces, and plenty of logs to burn. So you will not freeze."
"Open fires are always cold," complained Mr. Sneed. "You roast on one side, and freeze on the other."
"Oh, I think it won't be quite as bad as that," laughed the manager. "But that is not all I have to say. In consideration of the fact that there will be some inconveniences, in spite of all I can do, I am willing to make an increase of ten per cent. in the salaries of all of you, including Tommy and Nellie," and he smiled at the two children.
"Oh, goodie! I'm going!" cried the small lad.
"So'm I," voiced his sister.
There was a moment of silence, while all the members of the company looked at Mr. Sneed, who had raised the first contention. He seemed to think that it was necessary for him to say something.
"Ah—ahem!" he began.
"Yes?" spoke Mr. Pertell, questioningly.
"In view of all the facts, and er—that I would have to give two weeks' notice, and under all the circumstances, I think—er—I will withdraw my resignation, if you will allow me," the grouchy actor went on, in a lofty manner.
"Ah!" laughed Mr. Pertell. "Then we will consider it settled, and you may all begin to pack up for Elk Lodge as soon as you please."
"When are we to leave?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"In a few days now. I have one more play I want to stage in New York, and then we willleave for the country where we can study snow and ice effects to better advantage than here. We want to get out into the open. Russ, I must have a talk with you about films. I think, in view of the fact that the lights out in the open, reflected by the snow, will be very intense and high, a little change in the film and the stop of the camera will be necessary."
"I think so myself," agreed the young moving picture operator. "In fact, I have been working on a little device that I can attach to our cameras to cut down the amount of light automatically. It consists of a selenium plate with a battery attachment——"
"Oh, spare us the dreadful details!" interrupted Miss Pennington, who was of a rather frivolous nature.
"Well, there is no longer need of detaining you," spoke Mr. Pertell. "Work for the day is over. We will meet again to-morrow and film 'A Mother's Sorrow,' and that will be the last New York play for some time. I presume it will take a week to get ready to go to Deerfield, as there are many details to look after."
"Oh, I just can't wait until it's time to go to the backwoods!" cried Alice, as she and Ruth were on their way home that evening. "Aren't you crazy about it, sister mine?"
"Well, not exactlycrazy, Alice. You do use such—er—such strong expressions!"
"Well, I have strong feelings, I suppose."
"I know, but you must be more—more conservative."
"I know you were going to say 'lady-like,' but you didn't dare," laughed Alice.
"Well, consider it said, my dear," went on Ruth, in all seriousness, for she felt that she must, in a measure, play the part of a mother to her younger sister.
"I don't want to consider anything!" laughed Alice, "except the glorious fun we are going to have. Oh, Ruth, even the prospect of that dreadful Dan Merley making daddy pay the debt over again can't dampen my spirits now. I'm so happy!"
She threw her arms about Ruth and attempted a few turns of the one-step glide.
"Oh, stop! I'm slipping!" cried Ruth, for the sidewalk was icy. "Alice, let me go!"
"Not until you take a few more steps! Now dip!"
"But, Alice! I'm going to fall! I know I am! There! I told you——"
But Ruth did not get a chance to use the favorite expression of Mr. Sneed, if such was her intention. For she really was about to fall whena young man, who was passing, caught her, and saved her from a tumble.
"Oh!" she gasped, in confusion, as she recovered her balance.
"I beg your pardon," laughed the young fellow, with sparkling eyes.
"I should beg yours!" faltered Ruth, with a blush.
"It was all my fault—I wanted her to dance!" cried Alice, willing to accept her share of the blame.
"Yes, this weather makes one feel like dancing," the young fellow agreed, and then with a bow he passed on.
"Alice how could you?" cried Ruth.
"How could I what?"
"Make me do that."
"I didn't mean to. Really, he was nice; wasn't he? And say, did you notice his eyes?"
"Oh, Alice, you are hopeless!" and Ruth had to laugh.
The two moving picture girls reached home without further mishap, if mishap that could be called, though all the way Alice insisted on waltzing about happily, and trying in vain to get Ruth to join in, and try the new steps. Passersby more than once turned to look at thetwo pretty girls, who made a most attractive picture.
The drama next day was successfully filmed and then followed a sort of week's vacation, while the picture players prepared for the trip to the woods.
They were to go by train to Hampton Junction, the nearest station to Deerfield. This last was only a small settlement once the center of an important lumber industry, but now turned into a hunting preserve, owned by a number of rich men. As the Lodge was not in use this season, Mr. Pertell had engaged it for his company.
In due time the baggage was all packed, the various "properties" had been shipped by Pop Snooks and everything was ready for the trip. The journey from the railroad station at Hampton Junction to Elk Lodge, in Deerfield, was to be made in big four-horse sleds, several of them having been engaged, for it was reported that the snow was deep in the woods. Winter had set in with all its severity there.
Finally all the members of the company were gathered at the Grand Central Terminal, New York. The players attracted considerable attention, for there was that air of the theater about them which always seems so fascinating to theoutsider, who knows so little of the really hard work that goes on behind the footlights. Most of the glitter is in front, in spite of appearances.
"Why, it's like setting off for Oak Farm!" remarked Alice, as she stood beside her sister, Paul and Russ.
"Only there isn't any mystery in prospect," spoke Paul. "I wonder how the Apgars are getting on, now that their farm is safe?"
"They're probably sitting about a warm fire, talking about it," Russ said.
"There may be just as much of a mystery in the backwoods as there was at Oak Farm, if we can only come across it," suggested Alice. "I wish we could discover something queer."
"Oh, Alice!" protested Ruth.
Mr. Sneed was observed to be walking about, peering at the various sign boards on which the destination of trains was given.
"What are you looking for?" asked Russ.
"I want to see that we don't start out on track thirteen as we did when we went to Oak Farm, and had the wreck," the actor answered. "I've had enough of hoodoos."
"You're all right this time—we leave from track twenty-seven," called Mr. Pertell. "All aboard for Deerfield and Elk Lodge!"
There was snow everywhere. Never could Ruth, Alice, and the other members of the Comet Film Company remember so much at one time. They seemed to have entered the Polar regions.
Along the tracks of the railroad the white flakes were piled in deep drifts, and when they swept out from a patch of woodland, and had a view across the fields, or down into some valley, they could see a long, unbroken stretch of white.
"It sure is some snow," observed Russ, who sat in the seat with Ruth, while Paul had pre-empted a place beside Alice. This last in spite of the fact that Miss Dixon invitingly had a seat ready for the young actor beside herself. But she was forced to be content with a novel for companionship.
"Yes, and we're going to get more snow," remarked Mr. Sneed, who sat behind Russ. "We'll get so much that the train will be delayed, and we'll have to stay on it all night; that's what will happen."
"Und ve vill starf den; ain't dot so?" inquired Mr. Switzer, with a jolly laugh from across the aisle. "Ve vill starf alretty; vill ve not, mine gloomy friendt?"
"We sure will," predicted the grouch of the company. "They took the dining car off at the last station, and I understand there isn't another one to be had until we get to Hampton Junction. We sure will starve!"
"Ha! Dot is vot ve villnotdo!" laughed Mr. Switzer, with conviction. "See, I haf alretty t'ought of dot, und I haf provided. Here are pretzels!" and he produced a large bag of them from his grip. "Ve vill not starf!"
"Ha! Pretzels!" scoffed Mr. Sneed. "I never eat them!"
"Maybe you vill before you starf!" chuckled Mr. Switzer, as he replaced them. "I like dem much!"
The other members of the company laughed—all but Mr. Sneed and Wellington Bunn. The former went forward to consult a brakeman as to the prospects of the train becoming snowbound, while Mr. Bunn, who wore his tall hat, and was bundled up in a fur coat, huddled close to the window, and doubtless dreamed of thedays when he had played Shakespearean rôles; and wondered if he would play them again.
The train went on, not that any great speed was attained, for the grade was up hill, and there had been heavy storms. There was also the prospect of more snow, and this, amid the rugged hills of New England, was not reassuring.
"But we expect hard weather up here," said Mr. Pertell to his company. "The more snow and ice we have, the better pictures we can get."
"That's right!" agreed Russ.
"Humph! I'm beginning to wish I hadn't come," growled Mr. Sneed, who had received information from a brakeman to the effect that trains were often snowbound in that part of the State.
A few feathery flakes began falling now, and there was the promise of more in the clouds overhead, and in the sighing of the North wind.
"Does your throat hurt you much, Daddy?" asked Ruth, as she noticed her father wrapping a silk handkerchief closer about his neck.
"Just a little; I think it is the unusual cold," he replied. "But I do not mind it. The air is sharper here than in New York; but it is drier. Perhaps it may do me good. I think I will use my spray," and he got out his atomizer.
There were not many passengers beside themembers of the film theatrical company in the car in which Ruth and her sister rode. Among them, however, were two young ladies, about the age of Alice, and as Ruth went down the aisle once, to get a drink of water, she noted that one of the strangers appeared to be ill.
"Pardon me," spoke Ruth, with ready sympathy, "but can I do anything to help you?"
"She has a bad headache," replied the other. "My sister always gets one when she travels. Fortunately we have not much farther to go."
"Oh, Helen, I shall be so glad when we get there," said the suffering one.
"Never mind, Mabel, we will soon be there," soothed the other.
"If you don't mind—I'd like to give you my smelling salts," offered Ruth. "They always help me when I have a headache, which is seldom, I'm glad to say."
"I wish I could say that," murmured the afflicted one.
"Suppose you let me give the bottle to you," suggested Ruth. "I'll have my sister bring some spirits ofcologne, too. Then you can bathe your head."
"You are very kind," responded the other.
Soon the four girls were in the ladies' compartment of the parlor car in which the picturecompany was traveling. There was a lounge there, and on this the girl called Mabel was soon receiving the ministrations of the others.
Her head was bathed in the fragrant cologne, and the use of the smelling salts relieved the slight feeling of indisposition that accompanied the headache.
"I feel so much better now," she declared, after a little. "I—I think I could sleep."
"That would be the best thing for you, my dear," said Ruth, as she smoothed her hair. "Come," she whispered to the others, "we will sit back here and let her rest," and she motioned them to come into the curtained-off recess of the compartment.
There the other girl said that she and her sister were on their way to visit relatives over the holidays. They were Mabel and Helen Madison, of New York.
"And right after Christmas we're going to Florida," Helen confided to Ruth and Alice.
"Oh, it must be lovely there, under the palms!" exclaimed the latter. "I do so want to go."
"It is quite a contrast to this, I should imagine," remarked Ruth, as she gazed out of the window on the snowy scene.
"Does your company ever get as far as Florida?" asked Helen, for Ruth and Alice had told her their profession.
"We haven't yet," replied Ruth, "though once, when we were small, daddy played in St. Augustine, and we were there. But I don't remember anything about it."
"We are going to a little resort on Lake Kissimmee," said Helen Madison. "Perhaps we may see you there, if you ever make pictures in Florida."
"I hardly think we are going that far," observed Ruth. "But if we do we shall look for you."
Ruth little realized then how prophetic her words were, nor how she and Alice would actually "look" for the two girls.
A little later Mabel awakened from a doze, and announced that her head felt much better. Then, as it would soon be time for her and her sister to get off, for they were nearing their destination, they went back to their seats to get their luggage in readiness.
"I like them; don't you?" asked Alice, as she and Ruth rejoined their friends.
"Indeed I do! They seem very sweet girls. I would like to meet them again."
"So would I. Perhaps we shall. It would be lovely if we could go to Florida, after ourwinter work is over. I'm going to ask Mr. Pertell if there's any likelihood of our doing so."
But Alice did not get the opportunity just then, as she and Ruth went to the door to bid their new girl acquaintances good-bye. Then came the announcement that in a short time Hampton Junction would be reached.
"Better be getting your possessions together," advised Mr. Pertell to his company. "It is getting late and I don't want to have you travel too much after dark."
The train came to a stop at Hampton Junction, and from the car emerged the picture players. Ranged alongside the small building that served as the depot were several large sleighs, known in that country as "pungs," the bodies being filled with clean straw. There were four horses to each, and the jingle of their bells made music on the wintry air.
"Oh, we're going to have a regular straw ride!" cried Alice, clapping her hands at the sight of the comfortable-looking sleighs. "Isn't this jolly, Ruth?"
"I'm sure it will be, yes. Come now, have you everything?"
"Everything, and more too!"
"Daddy, are you all right?" went on Ruth, for she had gotten into the habit, of late, oflooking after her father, who seemed to lean on her more and more as she grew older.
"Everything, daughter," he replied. "And my throat feels much better. I think the cold air is doing it good."
"That's fine!" she laughed, happily. "Now I wonder which of these sleighs is ours?"
"I'll tell you in a minute," said Mr. Pertell. "I want to see the lodge-keeper. Oh, there he is! Hello, Jake Macksey!" he called to the sturdy man, in big boots, who was stalking about among the sleds, "is everything all right for us?"
"Everything, Mr. Pertell," was the hearty answer. "We'll have you out to Elk Lodge in a jiffy. My wife has got a lot of stuff cooked up, for she thought you'd be hungry."
"Indeed we are!" grumbled Mr. Sneed.
"But if dere iss stuff cooked I can safe mine pretzels!" chuckled Mr. Switzer.
The baggage was stowed in one sled, and in the others the members of the picture company distributed themselves.
"All right?" asked Jake Macksey, who was a veteran guide and hunter, and in charge of Elk Lodge.
"All ready!" answered Mr. Pertell.
"Drive lively now, boys!" called the hunter."It's getting late, and will soon be dark, and the roads aren't any too good."
"Oh my!" groaned Mr. Sneed. "I'm sure something will happen!"
With cracks of the whips, and a jingling of sleighbells, the little cavalcade started off. The gloom settled slowly down, but Ruth and Alice helped dispel it by singing lively songs. Over the snow-covered road they went, now on a comparatively level place, and again down into some hollow where the drifts were deep. The horses pulled nobly.
They came to a narrow place in the road, where the snow was piled high on either side. There was room for but one sled at a time.
"I hope we don't meet anyone here," said Mr. Macksey. "If they do we'll have a hard job passing. G'lang there!" he called to his horses.
They were half-way through the snow defile, when the leading sleigh, in which rode Ruth and Alice, swerved to one side. There was a crashing sound, a splintering of wood, and the two forward horses went down in a heap.
"Whoa! Whoa!" called Mr. Macksey, as he reined in the others.
"What's happened?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"Some sort of a breakdown," answered the hunter.
"Serious?" the actor wanted to know, trying to peer ahead in the gloom.
"I can't tell yet," was the answer. "Here, can someone hold the reins while I get out?" he asked.
"I will," offered Russ, and he held the rear team. The horses who had fallen had struggled to their feet and were quiet now. But the front part of the sled seemed to have sagged into the snow.
"I thought so!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, as he got up after peering under the vehicle. "No going on like this."
"What happened?" asked Alice.
"One of the forward runners has broken. There must have been a defect in it I didn't notice."
"Can't we go on?" asked Mr. Sneed.
"Not very well," was the answer. "We've broken down, and unfortunately we're the leading sleigh. I don't know how to get the others past it."
"Well, I knew something would happen," sighed the human grouch. And he seemed quite gratified that his prediction had been verified.
The two other sleds had, as a matter of necessity, come to a halt behind the first one. The defile in the snow was so narrow that there could be no passing. Those who had broken the road through the drifts had not been wise enough to make a wide path, and now the consequences must be taken.
In fact it would have been a little difficult to make at this point a path wide enough for two sleighs. The road went between two rocky walls, and though in the summer, when there was no snow, two vehicles could squeeze past, in the winter the piling up of the snow on either side made an almost impassable barrier.
To turn out to right or left was out of the question, for the snow was so deep that the horses would have floundered helplessly in it.
"Well, what's to be done?" asked Mr. DeVere, as he buttoned his coat collar up around his neck, and looked at his two daughters.
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to get out," said Mr. Macksey. "I want to get a better look at that broken runner, and see if it's possible to mend it. Bring up a lantern," he called to one of the drivers of the other sleds. "We'll soon need it."
The moving picture players in the broken-down sled piled out into the snow. Fortunately they had come prepared for rough weather, and wore stout shoes. Ruth and Alice, as well as Russ and Paul, laughed at the plight, and Mr. Switzer, with a chuckle, exclaimed:
"Ha! Maybe mine pretzels vill come in useful after all!"
"That's no joke—maybe they will," observed Mr. Sneed, gloomily. "We may have to stay here all night."
"Oh, we could walk to Elk Lodge if we had to," put in Mr. Macksey, as he took the lantern which the other driver brought up.
"It wouldn't be very pleasant," replied Mr. Sneed, "with darkness soon to be here, and a storm coming up."
"You're right about the storm, I'm afraid," answered the veteran hunter. "I don't like the looks of the weather a bit. And it sure will bedark soon. But we'll have a look at this sled," he went on. "Give me a hand here, Tom and Dick," he called to the other drivers, who had left their teams.
They managed to prop up the sled, so a better view could be had of the forward runner. Then the extent of the damage was made plain. One whole side had given way, and was useless. It could not even be patched up.
"Too bad!" declared the hunter. "Now, if it had only been the rear sled it wouldn't worry me so.
"For then we could pile the stuff from the back sled into the others, and go on, even if we were a bit crowded. But with the front sled blocking this narrow road, I don't see how we are to go on."
"If we could only jump the two rear sleds over this broken one, it would be all right," said Alice. "It's like one of those moving block puzzles, where you try to get the squares in a certain order without lifting any of them out."
"That's it," agreed Mr. Macksey. "But it's no easy matter to jump two big sleds, and eight horses, over another sled and four horses. I've played checkers, but never like that," he added.
"But we must do something," insisted Mr.Pertell. "I can't have my company out like this all night. We must get on to Elk Lodge, somehow."
"Well, I don't see how you're going to do it," responded the hunter. "You could walk, of course; but you couldn't take your baggage, and you wouldn't like that."
"Walk? Never! I protest against that!" exclaimed Mr. Bunn.
"'He doth protest too much!'" quoted Paul, in a low voice. "Come on, Ruth—Alice—shall we walk?"
"I'd like to do it—I'm getting cold standing here," cried Alice, stamping her feet on the edge of the road. "Will you, Ruth?"
"I'm afraid we'd better not—at least until we talk to daddy, my dear," was the low-voiced answer. "Perhaps they can get the sled fixed."
But it did not seem so, for Mr. Macksey, with a puzzled look on his face, was talking earnestly to the two drivers. The accident had happened at a most unfortunate time and place.
"We can't even turn around and go back a different road, the way it is," said the hunter. "There isn't room to turn, and everybody knows you can't back a pung very far before getting stuck."
"Then what are we to do?" asked Mr. Pertell.
The hunter did not answer for a minute. Then he said:
"Well, we've got twelve horses here, and I can manage to squeeze the two rear teams past the stalled sled. Then if you'd like to take chances riding them to Elk Lodge——"
"Never!" cried Mr. Bunn, with lively recollections of a time he had ridden a mule at Oak Farm. "I shall stay here forever, first!"
"Well, if you don't want to do that," said Mr. Macksey, and to tell the truth few members of the company seemed in favor of the idea, "if you don't want to do that I might ride on ahead and get a spare sleigh I have at the Lodge. I could get back here before very late, and we'd get home sooner or later."
"And we would have to stay here?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"I see no help for it. There are plenty of blankets in the sleds, and you can huddle down in the straw and keep warm. I'll get back as soon as I can."
There really seemed nothing else to do, and, after talking it over, this plan was practically decided on. But something happened to change it. The wind had been rising constantly, and the snow was ever falling thicker and faster. The players could see only a little way ahead now from the place where they were stalled.
"This would make a good film, if you could get it," remarked Paul to Russ.
"Too dark," replied the camera operator. "Do you know, I don't like this," he went on in a low voice to the young actor.
"You don't like what?" Paul wanted to know.
"The way this weather is acting. I think there's going to be a big storm, and here we are, stalled out in the open. It will be hard for the girls and the women, to say nothing of Tommy and Nellie."
"That's what it will, Russ; but what can be done?"
As he spoke there came a sudden fierce rush of wind and a flurry of snow. It took the breaths of all, and instinctively they turned from it, for the snow stung their faces. The horses, too, disliked to face the stinging blast, and shifted their places.
"Get behind such shelter as you can!" cried Mr. Macksey, above the roar of the storm. "This is a genuine blizzard and it's death to be unprotected. Get into the sleds, and cover up with the blankets. I'll have to go for help!"
The warning by Mr. Macksey, no less than the sudden blast of the storm, struck terror to the hearts of not only the moving picture girls, but to all the other players. For it was something to which they were not used—that terrible sweep of wind and blinding snow.
There had been heavy storms in New York, but there the big buildings cut off the force of the wind, except perhaps in some street canyon. But in the backwoods, on this stretch of open fields, there was no protection except that furnished by nature; or, in this case, by the sleds.
For a moment after the veteran hunter had called his warning no one moved. They all seemed paralyzed by fear. Then Mr. Macksey called again:
"Into shelter, every one of you! What do you mean; standing there in this storm? Get under the blankets—crouch down at the side of the sleds. I'll go for help."
"But you—you'll freeze to death—I can't permit you to go!" protested Mr. Pertell, yelling the words into the other's ear, to make himself heard above the storm.
"No, I'm used to this sort of thing!" the hunter replied. "I know a short cut to the lodge, and I can protect myself against the wind. I'll go."
"I don't like it!" repeated Mr. Pertell, while Mr. Macksey was forcing him back toward the protecting sled.
Meanwhile the others, now, if never before, feeling the need of shelter, were struggling through the blinding snow toward the broken sled, from which they had wandered a short time before while listening to the attempts made at solving the problem of getting on.
"Isn't this awful!" gasped Ruth, as she clung to Alice.
"Awful? It's just glorious!" cried the young girl. "I wouldn't have missed it for worlds."
"Oh, Alice, how can you say so? We may all die in this terrible storm!"
"I'm not going to think anything of the kind!" returned the other. "We'll get out of it, somehow, and laugh at ourselves afterward forbeing so silly as to be afraid. Oh, this is great!"
She was really glorying in the fierce outburst of nature. Perhaps she did not understand, or appreciate, it, for she had never seen anything like it before, and in this case ignorance might have been akin to bliss.
But the others, especially the drivers of the two sleds, with anxious looks on their cold faces, were trying to seek the shelter they so much needed, and also look to the restless horses. For the animals were now almost frantic with their desire to get away from that cutting wind and stinging snow.
"Unhitch 'em all!" roared Mr. Macksey to his men. "Take the horses from the sleds and get 'em back of as much shelter as you can find. Otherwise they may bolt and upset something. I'll take old Bald-face, and see if I can't get some kind of help."
Though what sort of aid he could bring to the picture actors in this time of storm and stress he hardly knew. But he was not going to give up without trying.
Ruth and Alice were trying to struggle back through the snow to their sled, and not making very successful work of it, when they felt armsat their sides helping them, and Russ and Paul came along.
"Fierce; isn't it!" cried Russ in Ruth's ear.
"Awful, and yet this sister of mine pretends that she likes it."
"I do!" declared Alice. "It's glorious. I can't really believe it's a blizzard."
"It's the beginning of one, though," Paul assured her. "I hear the drivers saying so. Their blizzards up here start in with a squall like this, and soon develop into a bad storm. This isn't at its worst yet."
"Well, I hope I see the worst of it!" said Alice.
"Oh, how can you so tempt fate?" asked Ruth, seriously.
"I'm not tempting fate, but I mean I do like to see a great storm—that is, if I'm protected, as I am now," and Alice laughed through the whirling snow into Paul's face, for he had wrapped a fold of his big ulster about her.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Ruth.
"What's the matter?" asked Russ, anxiously.
"I'm so worried."
"Don't be—yet," he said, reassuringly.
"But we may be snowed in here for a week!"
"Never mind—Mr. Switzer still has his pretzels, I believe."
She could not help laughing, in spite of their distress.
"Oh, poor daddy!" cried Alice, as she reached the sled, and Paul prepared to help her in, "he is trying to protect his poor throat." Mr. DeVere wore a heavy coat, the collar of which he had turned up, but even this seemed little protection, and he was now tying a silk handkerchief about his collar.
"I have the very thing for him!" cried Paul, taking off a muffler he wore.
"Oh, but you'll need that!" protested Alice, quickly.
"Not a bit of it—I'm as warm as toast," he answered. "Here you are, sir!" he called to Mr. DeVere, and when the latter, after a weak resistance, had accepted it (for he was really suffering from the cold), Alice thanked Paul with a look that more than repaid him for his knightly self-sacrifice.
The players were by now in the sled, which, in its damaged condition, had been let down as nearly level as possible. The blankets were pulled up over the side, and Mr. Macksey was preparing to unhitch one of the horses, and set off for help. Then one of the drivers gave a sudden cry, and came running up to his employer.
"Look!" he shouted. "The wind's shifted.It's blowing right across the top of this cut now. We'll be protected down here!"
This was indeed true. At the beginning of the squall, which was working up to a blizzard, the wind had swept up the canyon-like defile between the hills of earth and snow. But now the direction of the gale had shifted and was sweeping across the top of the depression. Thus those at the bottom were, in a measure, protected from the blast.
"By hickory!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, "that's right. The wind has changed. Folks, you'll be all right for a while down here, until I can get help."
"Must you go?" asked Ruth, for now they could talk with more ease. Indeed, so fiercely was the snow sweeping across the top of the gulch that little of it fell into the depression.
"Oh, sure, I've got to get help," the hunter said. "You folks can't stay here all night, even if the wind continues to blow across the top, which makes it much better."
"Indeed and I will not stay here all night!" protested Mr. Bunn. "I most strenuously object to it."
"And so do I!" growled Mr. Sneed. "There is no need of it. I might have known somethingunpleasant would happen. I had a feeling in my bones that it would."
"Well, you'll have a freezing feeling in your bones if I don't get help," observed Mr. Macksey, grimly.
"And I am hungry, too," went on Mr. Sneed. "Why was not food brought with us in anticipation of this emergency?"
"Haf a pretzel!" offered Mr. Switzer, holding one out.
"Away with the vile thing!" snapped Mr. Sneed.
Mr. Macksey was about to leap on the back of the horse and start off, when the same driver who had noticed the change in the wind called out:
"I say, Mr. Macksey, I have a plan."
"What is it?"
"Maybe you won't have to go for help, after all. Why can't we take the forward bob from under the rear sled and put it in place of the broken one on the first sled? We can easily pass the bob by the second sled even if the place is narrow."
"By hickory! Why didn't you think of that before?" demanded the hunter. "Of course we can do it! Lively now, and we'll make the change. Got to be quick, or it'll be pitch dark."
It would have been very dark long ago had it not been for the snow, which gave a sort of reflected light.
"Come on!" cried Mr. Macksey. "We'll make the change. I guess I'll have to ask you folks to get out again," he said to the players in the first sled. "But it won't be for long. We'll have a good runner in place of the broken one, and then we can pile into two sleds and get into Elk Lodge. We'll leave the last sled until to-morrow."
"But what about our baggage?" asked Miss Pennington. "That is in the rear sled. Can we take that with us?"
"Not all of it," answered the hunter, "but you can crowd in as much as possible. The rest can wait."
"I wantallof mine," declared the former vaudeville actress.
"So do I!" cried Miss Dixon.
"You'll be lucky if you get in out of this storm," said Mr. Pertell reprovingly, "to say nothing about baggage. Do the best you can, Mr. Macksey."
"I will. Come now, men, lively!"
It took some little time to make the change, but finally the work was done.
The broken runner was cast aside, and therewere now two good sleds, one ahead of the other in the snowy defile. As much of the needed baggage as possible was transferred, and the four horses that had been on the rear sled were brought up and hitched to the remaining sleds—two to each so that each conveyance now had six animals attached to it.
"And by hickory!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, that appearing to be his favorite expression, "By hickory, we'll need 'em all!"
They were now ready to set forth, and all rather dreaded going out into the open again, for the defile offered a good shelter from the storm. But it had to be done, for it was out of the question to stay there all night.
"Go 'long!" called the hunter, as he shook the long reins of his six horses, and cracked the whip with a report like a pistol. But the lash did not fall on the backs of the ready animals. Mr. Macksey never beat his horses—they were willing enough without that.
Lanterns had been lighted and hung on the sleds, to shed their warning rays through the storm. They now gleamed fitfully through the fast-falling snow.
"Are you feeling better now, Daddy?" asked Ruth of her father, as she glanced anxiously at him.
"Much better, yes. I am afraid I ought to give you back your muffler, Paul," he added.
"No indeed—please keep it," begged the young actor.
Alice reached beneath the blanket and pressed his hand in appreciation.
"Thanks," he laughed.
"It is I who thank you," she returned, softly.
They were now out in the open road, and the fury of the blast struck them with all its cruel force.
"Keep covered up!" shouted Mr. Macksey, through the visor of his cap, which was pulled down over his face. "We'll be there pretty soon."
On through the drifts plunged the straining horses. It was all six of them could do, pull as they might, to make their way. How cruelly the wind cut, and how the snow flakes stung! Soft as they really were, the wind gave them the feeling of pieces of sand and stone.
On through the storm went the delayed party. And then, when each one, in spite of his or her fortitude, was almost giving up in despair at the cold and the anxiety Mr. Macksey shouted out;
"Whoa! Here we are! All out for Elk Lodge!"
Warming, comforting beams of light shone from a large, low building set back from the road in a little clearing of the woods. It was too dark to see more than this—that the structure offered shelter, warmth and light. Yes, and something else, for there was borne on the wings of the wind the most delicious odor—the odor of supper.
"Pile out, folks! Pile out!" cried the genial old hunter. "Here we are! At Elk Lodge! No more storm! No more cold! Get inside to the blaze. I reckon mother's about given us up; but we're here, and we won't do a thing to her cooking! Pile out!"
It was an invitation that needed no repetition. It was greeted with a merry shout, even Mr. Sneed, the grouch, condescending to say:
"Ah, that sounds good!"
"Ha! Den if dere iss food to eat I dinks me dot I don't need to eat my pretzels. I can safedem for annoder time!" cried Mr. Switzer, as he got out.
There was a laugh at this, and it was added to when Mr. Bunn called out in his deepest tragic voice:
"Ha! Someone has my silk hat!"
For he had persisted in wearing that in the storm, though it was most uncomfortable.
"It is gone!" he added. "Stolen, mayhap. Has anyone seen it?"
"Probably blew off," said Russ. "We'll find it—when the snow melts!"
Wellington Bunn groaned—again tragically.
"I'll get you another," offered Mr. Pertell, generously.
"Come on, folks! Pile out!" cried Mr. Macksey again.
"I'm so stiff I can hardly move!" declared Ruth.
"So am I," added Alice. "Oh, but it's good to be here!"
"I thought you liked the storm so," observed Ruth.
"I do, but I like supper too, and I think it must be ready."
Out of the sleds climbed the cold and cramped picture players, all thought of the fierce storm now forgotten.
"Go right in," invited Mr. Macksey. "Supper's waiting!"
"Welcome to Elk Lodge!" called a motherly voice, and Mrs. Macksey appeared in the open door of the main corridor. "Come right in!"
They were glad enough to do it.
"I don't know any of you, except Russ and Mr. Pertell," she said, for the manager and his helper had paid a visit to the place sometime before to make arrangements about using it.
"You'll soon know all of 'em," declared Mr. Pertell with a laugh. "I'll introduce you," which he quickly did.
"Now then, I expect you'll want to wash up," went on the hunter's wife. "I'll have the girl show you to your different rooms, and then you can come down to supper. It's been waiting. What kept you? I'll have to ask you folks because it's like pulling teeth to get any news out of my husband. What happened?"
"A breakdown," explained Ruth, who took an instant liking to motherly Mrs. Macksey. "Oh, we had such a time!"
"Such a glorious time!" supplemented Alice.
"Here's a girl who evidently likes outdoors," laughed the hunter's wife.
"Indeed I do!" cried Alice.
There was some little confusion, getting theplayers to their rooms, because of the lateness of the arrival, but finally each one was in his or her appointed apartment, and trying to get settled. The rooms were small but comfortable, and the hunters who had built the lodge for themselves had provided many comforts.
"There ought to be a private bath for each one," declared Miss Pennington, as she surveyed her room.
"Indeed there ought," agreed her friend Miss Dixon. "I think this place is horrid!"
"How thoughtless and selfish they are," said Ruth, who shared a room with Alice.
"Aren't they! I think it's lovely here. Oh, but I am so hungry!"
"So am I, dear."
"Glad to hear it for once, Ruth. Usually you have so little appetite that one would think you were in love."
"Silly! I'm going to eat to-night anyhow."
"Does that mean you arenotin love?"
"Silly!" cried Ruth again, but that was all she answered.
What a glorious and home-like place Elk Lodge was! Yes, even better than the best home the moving picture girls had known most of their lives, for they had spent part of the time boarding, as their father traveled about with his theatricalcompany, and who can compare a home to a boarding house?
Down in the big living room a fire burned and crackled, and gave out spicy odors on the great hearth that took in logs six feet long. And how cheerfully and ruddily the blaze shone out! It mellowed and cheered everyone. Even Mr. Sneed smiled, and stretched out his hands to the leaping flames.
As Ruth and Alice were about to go down, having called to their father across the hall that they were ready for him, there came a knock on their door.
"Come in!" invited Ruth.
"Sorry to trouble you," spoke Miss Pennington, "but have you any cold cream and—er—powder? Our things were left in the other sled—I mean all of those things, and Laura and I can't—we simply can't get along without them."
"I have cold cream," said Alice. "But powder—that is unless it's talcum or rice——"
"That will have to do I guess," sighed the vaudeville actress. "But I did hope you had a bit of rouge, I'm so pale!"
"Never use it!" said Alice quickly. Too quickly, hospitable Ruth thought, for, though she decried the use of "paint," she would not be rudeto a guest, and, under these circumstances Miss Pennington was a guest.
"You don't need it," the caller said, with a glance at Alice's glowing cheeks, to whom the wind and snow had presented two damask spots that were most becoming.
"The weather is very chapping to my face," the former vaudeville actress went on. "I really must have something," and she departed with the cold cream and some harmless rice powder, which Ruth and Alice used judiciously and sparingly, and only when needed.
The fine supper, late as it was, necessarily, was enjoyed to the utmost. It was bountiful and good, and though at first Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon were inclined to sniff at the lack of "courses," and the absence of lobster, it was noticed that they ate heartily.
"There is only one thing more I want," sighed Paul, as he leaned back in his chair.
"What, pray? It seems to me, and I have been watching you, that you have had about all that is good for you," laughed Alice. "I have seen you get three separate and distinct helpings of fried chicken."
"Oh, I didn't mean anything more to eat," he said, quickly, "and if you are going to watch me so closely I shall have to cut down my rations, Ifear. What I meant was that I would like a moving picture of this supper. It has memories that long will linger, but I fain would have a souvenir of it."
"Be careful that you don't get indigestion as a souvenir," laughed Alice, as he followed her sister from the table.
The dining room opened off the great living apartment with that wonderful fire, and following the meal all the members of the company gathered about the hearth.
Outside the storm still raged, and Mr. Macksey, who came in from having with his men, put away the horses, reported that the blizzard was growing worse.
"It's a good thing we thought of changing the bobs and coming on," he said. "Otherwise we might be there yet."
"What really happened?" asked his wife. "I was telling one of the young ladies that it was like pulling teeth to get any news out of you."
"Oh, we just had a little breakdown," he said. "Now, folks, just make yourselves at home. Go to bed when you like, get up when you please. I'll try and get the rest of your baggage here some time to-morrow, if this storm lets up."
"I hope you do get it," complained Miss Pennington.
"Selfish thing!" whispered Alice. "All she wants is her paint!"
"Hush," cautioned Ruth. "She'll hear you!"
"I don't care," voiced her sister.
They talked of many things as they sat about the fire, and then Mr. Pertell said:
"We will film no dramas while the storm continues, but as soon as we can get out on the ice I want to start one."
"Is there skating about here?" asked Alice, who was very fond of the sport.
"There's a fine lake back of the lodge," replied Mr. Macksey, "and as soon as the storm lets up I'll have the men clear a place of snow, and you can have all the fun you want."
"Oh, joy!" cried Alice.
"Save me the first skate," whispered Paul to her, and she nodded acquiescence.
Mr. Pertell briefly outlined the drama he expected to film on the ice, and then, after a little more talk, every one voted that bed was the best place in the world. For the wind had made them all sleepy, and they were tired out from the storm and their long journey.
Alice and Ruth went up to their room. Alice pulled aside the curtain from the window and looked out on a scene of swirling whiteness. Theflakes dashed against the pane as though knocking for admission.
"It's a terrible night," said Ruth, with a little shiver.
"Well, much as I like weather, I wouldn't want to be out in it long," Alice confessed. "Elk Lodge is a very good place in a blizzard."
"Suppose we got snowed in?" asked Ruth, apprehensively.
"Then we'll dig our way out—simple answer. Oh dear!" and Alice yawned luxuriously, if not politely, showing her pretty teeth.
In spite of the portentous nature of the storm, it was not fully borne out, and morning saw the sun shining on the piles of snow that had fallen. There had been a considerable quantity sifted down on what was already about Elk Lodge, but there was not enough to hinder traffic for the sturdy lumbermen and hunters of that region.
The wind had died down, and it was not cold, so when Mr. Macksey announced that he was going back after the broken-down sleigh, Ruth and Alice asked permission to accompany him.
Before starting off Mr. Macksey had set a gang of men, hired for the occasion, to scraping the snow off the frozen lake, and when Ruth and Alice came back they found several of the pictureplayers skating, while Russ was getting ready to film one of the first scenes of the drama.
"You're in this, Mr. Sneed," said the manager. "You are supposed to be skating along, when you trip and fall breaking your leg——"
"Hold on—stop—break my leg! Never!" cried the grouchy actor.
"Of course you don't really injure yourself!" exclaimed the manager, testily.
"Oh, why did I ever come to this miserable place!" sighed Mr. Sneed. "I despise cold weather!"
But there was no help for it. Soon he was on the steel runners gliding about, while Russ filmed him. Mr. Sneed was a good skater, and was not averse to "showing off."
"All ready, now!" called the manager to him. "Get that fall in right there. Russ, be ready for him!"
"Oh!" groaned the actor. "Here I go!"
And, as luck would have it, he, at that moment, tripped on a stick, and fell in earnest. It was much better done than if he had simulated it.
But something else happened. He fell so heavily, and at a spot where there was a treacherous air hole, that, the next instant Mr. Sneed broke through the ice, and was floundering in the chilly water.