Alice and Ruth fairly flew together, holding their arms tightly about one another in the excess of their emotion, as they heard this joyful news shouted to them by their father.
Ruth cried on her sister's shoulder. She could not help it. Perhaps Alice felt like crying, too, so great was the relief; but she was of a differenttemperament. She laughed hysterically.
"Is Mr. Pertell there?" called Russ, getting down close to the hole he and Paul had made in the ice barrier to enable his voice to carry better. "Is he there, Mr. DeVere?"
"Yes, he's there, and I guess the whole company."
"Has he the camera?"
"That's what he has, Russ."
"Good! Tell him to get a moving picture of the rescue. We can fix up a story to go with it."
"I will, Russ!" exclaimed the actor.
Then, as those within the ice cave waited, they faintly heard other voices outside, and a little later the sound of axes vigorously applied told that the ice which had imprisoned them was being chopped away.
Fast and furiously the rescuers worked. The ice flew about in a sparkling spray as the keen weapons bit deep into it, and the hole grew larger and larger.
Meanwhile Mr. Pertell was operating the moving picture camera, getting view after view of the rescue. There were enough helpers so that his aid was not needed in chopping the ice.
"There she goes!" cried Mr. Macksey, as his axe went through an opening and into the cave. "I've made the hole!" and he capered about like a boy, so delighted was he that he had been the first to bring aid to the imprisoned ones.
"Oh, now we can get out!" cried Ruth, as she saw the head of the axe come through.
"As if there had ever been any doubt of it," laughed Alice. She could laugh now, but even with all her gay spirits, there had been a time, not many minutes back, when it was quite a different story.
The hole once made, was soon enlarged, and then, when it was of sufficient size to enable aperson to crawl through, Russ shouted to the rescuers;
"That'll do! Don't chop any more! We can wriggle out."
"Surely, yes," agreed Ruth, as the young moving picture operator looked to her for confirmation. "I'm not a bit fussy," she added. "I've done harder things than crawl on my hands and knees out of an ice cave."
"Don't chop any more!" called Paul, for Russ was leading Ruth to the opening.
"Come ahead!" called Mr. DeVere, and a moment later he was holding his daughter in his arms. Alice soon followed, and she too was clasped tightly.
"Hurray!" cried Mr. Switzer, as Russ and Paul emerged from their strange prison. "Dis is der best sight vot I have yet had in more as a month. Half a pretzel!" he exclaimed, holding out one of the queer, twisted things. He was never without them since the sled breakdown. He said they were his mascots.
There was a scene of rejoicing, and even the gloomy Mr. Sneed condescended to smile, and looked almost happy.
"There, I guess we can use this film in some sort of a play, if I have to write it myself!" exclaimed Mr. Pertell, as he finished grinding awayat the camera crank. "I can call it 'Caught in The Ice,' or something like that," he went on, "We can make some preliminary scenes, and some others to follow, and get quite a play out of it."
"I'm glad you thought to bring the camera," said Russ. Even in the stress of what had happened to him and his companions, his instinct as a moving picture operator was ever foremost.
"We had better get them to Elk Lodge, and feed them upon something warm," suggested Mr. Macksey. "I told the wife to have a good meal ready, for I knew they would be chilled through."
"Itwaspretty cold in there," confessed Alice.
"Oh, don't let's talk about it!" cried Ruth. "It was too terrible."
An examination of the exterior of the ice cave showed that just what the young men surmised had taken place. A large chunk of ice had slid down from above, and had jammed against the opening to the cavern.
Back at Elk Lodge, with warm garments on, the four who had passed through such a trying experience soon forgot their troubles. They had to tell all over again just what had happened, and the young men were considered quite the heroes of the hour.
The next day none of the four was any the worse for the experience, save in the matter of a nightmare memory, and that would gradually pass away.
Feeling that the two girls were not capable of doing any hard work in posing for the camera that day, Mr. Pertell announced another vacation, save that Russ was engaged in making some scenes of snow and ice effects.
Late in the afternoon, when the shadows were lengthening, and the long winter evening was about to close in, Alice, who was out on the side porch, saw Mr. Macksey coming in from the barn. The hunter had an anxious look on his face, and as he walked toward the house he cast looks up at the sky now and then. And Alice heard him murmur:
"I don't like this! I don't for a cent, by hickory!"
"What's the matter now?" she asked, merrily. "Have you seen some of those strange men about again, hunting on your preserves?"
"No, Miss Alice. Not this time," he replied, slowly.
"What is it then?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't like the looks of the weather."
"Do you think we're going to have anotherblizzard?" and there was a note of alarm in her voice.
"I'm thinking that's what's coming," he made answer. "I never knew the weather to act just this way before except once, and then we had the worst storm I ever remember. That was when I was a boy, and more snow fell in that one storm than in any three winters put together."
"Gracious! I hope that won't happen now!" cried the girl.
"So do I," went on the hunter. "And I'm going to take all precautions. I'll get the men, and we'll pile the fodder in the barn so if we can't get out to feed the stock they won't starve for a week, anyhow."
"Does it ever happen that you can't get out to the barns?" Alice wanted to know.
"Indeed it does, young lady. When there is a heavy fall of snow, and the wind blows hard, it drifts almost as high as the house. Yes, I think we're in for a storm, and I'm going to get ready for it. Best to be on the safe side."
A little later he and a number of his hired men, as well as some of the picture players, were engaged in looking after the horses and cows. Great piles of hay and grain were moved from the barns where the fodder was kept in reserve, to the buildings where the stock were stabled.
"How about our rations?" asked Mr. Bunn, who was not of much help in work of this sort. "Have we enough to last through a storm?"
"Well, we've got some," Mr. Macksey admitted. "But I own I would like a little better stock in the Lodge. I counted on some supplies coming in to-day; but they haven't arrived. We'll have to do the best we can."
"What is all the excitement about, Alice?" asked Ruth as she came out to join her sister on the porch.
"A big storm coming, Mr. Macksey says. They're getting ready for it. I want to see it!"
"Oh, Alice. Suppose it should be a blizzard!"
"Well, I want to see it anyhow. If it's going to come I can't stop it; but I can enjoy it," Alice remarked in her characteristically philosophical way.
There was a curious humming in the air, as though someone, a great way off, were moaning in pain. It did not seem to be the wind, and yet it was like the sigh of a breeze. But the gaunt-limbed trees did not bow before this strange blast.
The air, too, had a bite and tingle to it as though it were filled with invisible particles of ice. The clouds were lowering, and as the afternoon wore away there sprang up in the west a black band of vapor, almost like ink.
Alice induced Ruth to pay a visit to the barn, to watch the preparations for providing for the stock. Even the animals seemed uneasy, as though they sensed some impending disaster. The horses, always nervous, were doubly so, and moved restlessly about, with pricked-up ears, and startled neighs. The cows, too, lowed plaintively.
"Well, we've done all we can," announced Mr. Macksey, as night came on. "Now all we can do is to wait. There's plenty of fuel in the cellar, and we'll not freeze, at any rate."
There was a sense of gloom over all, as they sat in the big living room of Elk Lodge that night, and looked at the blazing logs. Everyone listened apprehensively, as though to hear the first message of the impending storm.
The sighing of the wind, if wind it was that made that curious sound, was more pronounced now, and as the blast came down the chimney it scattered ashes and embers about, and at times rose to an uncanny wail.
"Oh, but that gives me the shivers!" exclaimed Miss Pennington, tossing aside the novel in which she had tried to become interested. "This is positively awful! I wish I were back in New York."
"So do I!" added her chum.
"Oh, but a good snow storm is glorious!" cried Alice. "I am just wild to see it."
"That's right," exclaimed her father, with a smile. "Take a cheerful view of it, anyhow."
Some one proposed a guessing game, and with that under way the spirits of all revived somewhat. Then came another simple game, and the time passed pleasantly.
Mr. Macksey, coming back from a trip to the side door, startled them all by announcing:
"She's here!"
"Who?" asked his wife, looking up from her sewing.
"The storm! It's snowing like cotton batting!"
Alice rushed to the window. She shaded her eyes with her hands at the side of her head and peered out. It seemed as though the lamplights shone on a solid wall of white, so thickly was the snow falling.
The wind had now risen to a blast of hurricane-like velocity and it fairly shook Elk Lodge, low and substantial as the house was.
By ones and twos the picture players went to their rooms, and soon silence and darkness settled down over the Lodge. That is, silence within the house, but outside there was the riot of the storm.
Two or three times during the night Alice awakened and, going to the window, looked out. She could make out a dim whiteness, but that was all. Around the window there was a little drift of snow on the sill, where it had been blown through a crack.
And in the morning they were snowbound. So heavy was the fall of snow, and so high had it drifted, that some of the lower windows were completely covered, from the ground up. And before each door was such a drift that it would be necessary to tunnel if they were to get out.
"The worst storm I ever see!" declared Mr. Macksey, as he closed the door against the blast. "It would be death to go out in it now. We are snowbound, by hickory!"
Apprehensive as all had been of the coming of the big storm, and fully warned by the hunter, none of the picture players was quite prepared for what they saw—or, rather, for what they could not see. For not a window on the lower floor of the Lodge but was blocked by a bank of snow, so that only the tops of the upper panes were clear of it. And through those bits of glass all that could be seen was a whirling, swirling mass, for the white flakes were still falling.
Not an outer door of the house but was blocked by a drift, and it was useless to open the portals at present, as the snow fell into the room.
"But what are we to do?" asked Mr. Pertell, when the situation had been made plain to him. "We can't take any moving pictures; can we?"
"Not in this storm," Mr. Macksey declared. "It would be as much as your life is worth to go out. It is bitter cold and the wind cuts like a knife!"
"I wish I could get some views," spoke Russ. "It would give New York audiences something to talk about, to see moving pictures of a storm like this."
"You might go up in the cupola on the roof," suggested Mr. Macksey. "You could stand your camera up there and possibly get some views."
"I'll do it!" cried Russ.
"And may I come?" asked Alice, always ready for an adventure of that sort.
"Come along!" he cried, gaily.
The cupola was more for ornament than use, but it was large enough for the purpose of Russ. After breakfast he took his moving picture camera up there, and managed through the windows, to get some fairly good pictures. The trouble was, however, that the snow was falling so thickly that it obscured the view. At times there would come a lull in the storm, and then Russ was able to get scenes showing the great black woods, and the white banks of snow.
"Oh, but it's cold work!" he cried, as he stopped to warm his hands, for the little room on the roof was draughty, and the snow blew in.
"It's a wonderful storm," cried Alice. "I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!"
All that day the storm raged, and all that night. There was nothing which could be done out ofdoors, and so the players and the men of the Lodge were forced to remain within. Great fires were kept up, for the temperature was very low.
The wise forethought of Mr. Macksey in providing for the stock prevented the animals from starving, as they would have done had not a supply of fodder been left for them. For it was out of the question to get to the barns.
After two days the storm ceased, the skies cleared and the sun shone. But on what a totally different scene than before the coming of the great blizzard!
There had been plenty of snow in Deerfield before, but now there was so much that one old man, who worked for Mr. Macksey, said he never recalled the like, and he had seen many bad storms.
"Well, now to tunnel out!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey when it had been ascertained, by an observation from the cupola, that the fall of snow was over. "We'll see if we can't raise the embargo."
But it was no easy matter. All the doors were blocked by drifts, and in making a tunnel through snow it is just as necessary to have some place to put the removed material as it is in tunneling through the side of a hill.
"We can't start in and dig from the door, for we'd have to pile the snow in the room back of us," said the hunter. "So the only other plan is to get outside, somehow, and work up to the house, tossing the snow to one side. I may have to dig a trench instead of a tunnel. I'll soon find out."
Finally it was decided that the men should go to the second story, out on a balcony that opened from Mr. DeVere's room, and get down into the snow that way. They would use snowshoes so as to have some support, and thus they could attack the drifts.
This plan was followed. Fortunately Mr. Macksey had thought to bring in snow shovels before the storm came, and with these the men attacked the big white piles.
It was hard work, but they labored with a will, and there were enough of them to make an effective attack. Mr. Macksey, in spite of the fact that he had food and water for his stock, was anxious to see how the animals were doing. So he directed that first paths, tunnels or trenches be made to the various barns.
In some places, around the lee of a building, the ground was bare of snow, and in other places the drifts were fully fifteen feet high.
Russ, who had not gone out to shovel snow,was observed to be nailing some light broad boards together in a peculiar way.
"What are you making?" Ruth asked him.
"Snowshoes for my camera," was his surprising answer.
"Snowshoes for your camera?"
"Yes, I want to get out and take some views, but I can't stand the thin legs of the camera on the snow. They'd pierce through it. So I'm going to put a broad board under each leg, and that will hold the machine up as well as snowshoes hold me."
"What a clever idea!" she cried. "I'm going to watch you. What sort of views do you expect to get?"
"Some showing the men digging us out. We can get up a film story and call it 'Prisoners of the Snow,' or something like that."
"Fine!" cried Alice. "I'm coming out, too."
She and Ruth got their snowshoes, and by this time the men had a deep trench up to the front door, so that it was not necessary for the girls to go out by the way of the balcony. They were delighted with the strange scene, and Russ obtained many fine pictures of the men laboring in the snow.
It was hard work to tunnel and trench out to the barn where the animals were, but finally itwas done. They were found to be all right with two exceptions. A horse had died from getting into the oat bin and eating too much, and a cow was frozen, having gotten away from the rest, and broken into a small outbuilding.
But the rest of the stock was in good condition, and, as Alice said, they seemed almost human, neighing or lowing at the sight of the men.
"I believe they were actually lonesome," said Alice.
"Indeed, animals do get that way!" declared Mr. Macksey.
As the snow was so deep, no dramas could be filmed in it, so Mr. Pertell and his players were enjoying enforced idleness. The time was spent, however, in learning new parts, in readiness for the time when some of the snow should have melted.
Many more paths, tunnels and trenches were made, but it was impossible to go more than a short distance from Elk Lodge, even on snowshoes. Later, when the snow had packed more, and a crust had been formed, it was planned to take many pictures of various happenings in the great piles of white crystals.
Three days after the storm saw little change in the appearance of the country and landscape about the hunting lodge. It was snow, snow,snow everywhere—on all sides. Within the house it was warm and cozy, and for months afterward it was a pleasant recollection to talk of the hours spent about the great fire in the living room.
But in spite of the fact that his animals were safe, except for the two that had died, Mr. Macksey seemed worried. Several times he paid a visit to the cellar, or the store room, where the provisions were kept, and more than once the girls heard him murmuring to himself.
"What is the trouble?" Alice asked him once, as he came up from a trip to the cellar.
"Well, I'm afraid you folks will have to go on short rations if the supplies don't come in soon from the store," he replied. "I've got plenty of meat on hand, but other things are somewhat scarce."
"Then we won't starve?" she asked.
"Well, maybe not actually starve, but you may be hungry for certain things."
"Oh, I'm not fussy!" Alice laughed. "I can eat anything."
The storm was so severe and so wide-spread, that, in about a week, there was an actual shortage of provisions at Elk Lodge. The meals had to be curtailed in regard to certain dishes, and there were loud complaints from Mr. Bunn and Mr.Sneed, as well as from Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon. But the others made the best of it.
"I wish I had never come to this horrid place!" exclaimed Miss Pennington, when her request for a fancy dish had to be denied.
"You may go back to New York any time you wish," observed Mr. Pertell, with a grim humor, as he looked out on the great piles of snow. It would have been impossible to get half-way to the station.
Miss Pennington "sniffed" and said nothing.
But there was no actual suffering at Elk Lodge. Before it got to that point Mr. Macksey hitched up six horses to a big sled and made his way into town. He brought back enough provisions for a small company of soldiers.
"Now let it 'bliz' if it wants to!" he cried, as he and his men stocked up the storeroom.
"Now for some hard work," said Mr. Pertell one day, about ten days after the big storm. "I think we can safely go out, and make some of the scenes in the play 'Snowbound,'" he went on. "There will not be much danger that we will be caught in another blizzard; will there?" he asked of Mr. Macksey.
"I should hope not!" was the answer. "I don't believe there is any snow left in the clouds. Still, don't take too many chances. Don't go more than ten miles away."
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of going half that distance!" said Mr. Pertell. "I just want to get a scene or two at some place where the snow is piled in fantastic forms. The rest of the story takes place around the Lodge here."
"Is it the one that is something like the story of Lorna Doone?" asked Alice, who had been reading that book.
"That's the one," said Mr. Pertell. "And I think I shall cast you as Lorna."
"Oh, how nice!" she laughed. "But who will be John Ridd? We need a great big man for him!"
"Well, I was thinking of using Mr. Macksey," went on the manager, with a look at the hunter.
"What? Me have my photograph took in moving pictures!" cried the keeper of the Lodge. "Why, I don't know how to act!"
"You know how a great deal better than some that are in the business," returned Mr. Pertell, coolly. "Present company always excepted," he added, as Mr. Bunn looked up with an injured air. "What I mean is that you are so natural," he continued. "In fact, you have had your pictures taken a number of times lately, when you and your men were clearing away the snow. So you see it will be no novelty for you."
"But I didn't know when you took my pictures!" objected the hunter.
"No, and that's just the point. Don't think of the camera at all. Be unconscious of it. I'll arrange to have it masked, or hidden, if you think you can do better that way. But I have some scenes calling for a big man battling in the snow to save a girl, and you and Miss Alice are theproper characters. So I hope you won't disappoint me."
"I'll do my best," promised Mr. Macksey. "But I'm not used to that sort of work."
However, when the preliminary scenes for the big drama were filmed he did some excellent acting, the more so as he was totally unconscious that he was acting.
Several days were spent in making films of the play, for Mr. Pertell wanted to take advantage of the snow.
"It won't last a great while longer," remarked the hunter. "It's getting warm, and there'll be a thaw, soon."
He proved to be a true weather prophet for in two weeks there was scarcely a vestige of the snow left. It grew warm, and rained, and there was so much water about, from the rain and melting snow, that it was nearly as difficult to get about as it had been in the big drifts.
But the thaw proved an advantage in one way, for it opened up the roads that had been well-nigh impassable, and mail and other supplies came through.
The storm, while it gave Mr. Pertell a chance to make some fine pictures, had one drawback. He was not able to send the reels of film in to New York for development and printing. Helost considerable time and some money on this account, but it could not be helped.
But with the passing of the snow the highways were clear, and traffic to and from the village was made easy.
One day Mr. Macksey came back from town with a good-sized bag, filled with mail for the picture players.
"Oh, here's a letter for you, Ruth, and one for me!" cried Alice, as she sorted them over. "One for daddy, too! Oh, it's a big one!"
The moving picture girls were busy over their epistles for some time, as there proved to be a number of missives for them, from relatives, and from friends they had made since posing for the camera. But when Alice read all hers and was passing some of them to her sister, she happened to glance at her father's face.
"Why Daddy!" she cried, "what is the matter?"
"Oh—nothing!" he murmured, hoarsely for he had caught a little cold, and his voice was almost as bad as it had been at first.
"But I'm sure it's something!" Alice insisted. "Is it bad news? Ruth, make him tell!"
The three were in Mr. DeVere's room, where they had gone to look over the mail.
"Oh, it isn't anything!" declared the actor,and he tried to slip into his coat pocket the letter in the large envelope that Alice had handed to him.
"I'm sure it is," she insisted. "Please tell me, Daddy."
The letter fell to the floor, and Alice could not help seeing that it was from a firm of New York lawyers.
"Oh, is it the trouble about the five hundred dollars?" the girl cried. "Is Dan Merley making more trouble?"
"Yes," answered Mr. DeVere. "He has brought suit against me, it seems. This is a notice from the lawyers that if I do not pay within a certain time I will be brought to court, and compelled to hand over the money."
"Can they make you do that, Daddy?" asked Ruth, anxiously.
"I'm afraid they can, my dear. As I told you, I have no proof, except my own word, that I paid Merley. He still holds my note, and that is legal evidence against me. Oh, if I had only been more business-like!"
"Never mind, Daddy!" Alice comforted him, putting her arms about his neck. "Perhaps there will be a way out."
"I hope so," her father murmured, in broken tones.
"How did the lawyers know you were here?" asked Ruth.
"They didn't. They sent it to the apartment, and the postman forwarded it to me."
"They can't sue you up here in this wilderness though; can they?" asked Alice.
"I don't know anything about the law part of it," replied Mr. DeVere. "I presume, though, that they can sue me anywhere, even though I have paid the money, as long as Merley holds that note. They can make a great deal of trouble if they wish."
"Poor Daddy!" Ruth sighed.
"Oh, but I mustn't make you worry this way," he said spiritedly. "I shall find some way to fight this case. I'll never give in to that scoundrel."
"I wonder where he is?" mused Alice. "We thought he was injured in the accident, and would not bother you."
"This notice does not mention him," replied Mr. DeVere, as he paused over the letter again. "It merely speaks of him as 'our client.' He may be in the hospital, for all I can tell."
They discussed the matter from all viewpoints, but there was nothing to be done.
"You will have to reply to the lawyers, though; won't you, daddy?" asked Ruth.
"Oh, yes, I must write to them. I shall state the case plainly, and, though, I have no proof, I shall ask them to drop the suit, as it is an unjust one."
"And if they don't?" suggested Alice.
"If they don't—well, I suppose I shall have to suffer," he replied, quietly. "I cannot raise the money now."
"Oh dear!" cried Alice, half petulantly. "I wish the blizzard was still here!"
"Why, Alice!" cried Ruth.
"Well, I do! Then there wouldn't have been any mail, and daddy wouldn't have received this horrid letter."
"Oh, well, it's best to know the plans of one's enemies," said Mr. DeVere. "Now I know what to expect. I think I shall write to Dan Merley myself, and appeal to his better nature. Surely, even though he was not entirely sober when I paid him the money, he must recall that I did. I confess I do not know whether he is merely under the impression that I did not pay him, or is deliberately telling a falsehood. It is hard to decide," he added, with a sigh.
Mr. DeVere sent a letter to Merley the next day, and a few days later an answer came back from New York, from the same firm of lawyers who had served the legal notice, to the effect thattheir client had left the matter entirely in their hands, and that the money must be paid. Mr. Merley, the lawyer said, preferred to have no direct communication with Mr. DeVere.
"That settles it! They mean to push the case to the limit!" exclaimed the actor.
"That's the way to drive!"
"Come on now!"
"Faster, if you can make the horses go!"
"Get all that in, Russ!"
It was a lively scene, for a spirited race in cutters was in progress between Mr. Bunn and Mr. Sneed. It was taking place on the frozen surface of the lake, and each actor had been instructed to do his best to win. The race was a scene in the big snow drama, and it was being filmed several days after the events narrated in the preceding chapter.
The thaw was over, there had been a spell of cold weather, and Deerfield was icebound. The lake was a glittering expanse, and the ice on it was thick enough to support a regiment.
"A little more to the left, Mr. Sneed!" called Russ, who was taking the pictures. "I want to get a better side view."
"But if I go too far to the left I'm afraid I'll run into Mr. Bunn," objected the gloomy actor.
"No matter if you do—if you don't run into him too hard," cried Mr. Pertell. "It will make it look more natural."
"If he runs into me—and does me any damage—I shall sue him and you too!" declared Mr. Bunn. "This is a farcical idea, anyhow. You said I might get a chance to do some Shakespearean work up here; but so far I have done nothing."
"I'll see what I can do on that line next week," promised the manager. "Go on with this race now. The idea is for you, Mr. Sneed, to be in pursuit of Mr. Bunn. You must look as though you really wanted to catch him. Put some spirit into your acting."
"It is too cold!" complained Mr. Sneed. "I would a great deal rather be sitting beside the fire in the Lodge."
"No doubt," commented Mr. Pertell, drily. "But that won't make moving pictures. Come on, now, start your horses again," for they had, so far, been only rehearsing.
Finally Mr. Pertell was satisfied that the play would be done to his satisfaction, and gave the word for Russ to start unreeling the film.
Away started the two cutters over the ice, andthe two actors really managed to put a little enthusiasm into their work. Then, as Russ called to Mr. Sneed to edge over a little to the left, as he had done before, at the rehearsal, the gloomy actor pulled too hard on one rein. His horse swerved too much, and, the next instant, the cutter upset, and Mr. Sneed was neatly deposited on the ice.
Fortunately he fell clear of the vehicle, and was not entangled in the reins, so he was not hurt. The horse, an intelligent animal, feeling that something was wrong, came to a stop after running a little distance.
"Stop! Stop!" called Mr. Pertell to Mr. Bunn, who was still urging on his horse, unaware of the accident to his fellow actor. "The scene is spoiled. Don't take that, Russ. Sometimes I like an accident on the film, but not in this case. It would spoil the action of the play. It will have to be done over again."
"Not with me in it!" said Mr. Sneed, as he got up and went limping toward shore.
"Why not?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Why don't you want to do this act?"
"Because I am hurt. I knew something would happen when I got up this morning, and it certainly has. I may be injured for life by this."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the manager."You're not hurt. You only think so. Here, Mrs. Maguire, give him that bottle of witch hazel I saw you use for little Tommy the other day. That will fix you up, Mr. Sneed."
"Humph!" exclaimed the "grouch." And then, as the motherly Irish woman, with a quizzical smile on her face, started to the house for the liniment, Mr. Sneed said:
"Oh, you needn't make such a fuss over me. I suppose I can go on with this, if I am suffering. Bring back the horse."
The overturned cutter was righted, and the play went on. This time no mishap occurred and the race was run to a successful finish.
"Now, Alice and Ruth, you will get into the larger cutter, and with Paul for a driver we'll make the next scene," directed Mr. Pertell, and so the making of the play went on.
The filming of the big drama was to occupy several days, as some of the scenes were laid in distant parts of the game preserve belonging to Elk Lodge, and there was not time to take the company there, and come back for other scenes, the darkness falling early, as the year was dying.
There came fair weather, and storms, alternating. A number of fine films were obtained by Russ, some of them showing weather effects, and others views of the ice at the falls where the twogirls and their companions had been imprisoned in the ice cave.
It was on one comparatively warm afternoon that Alice, who had been out in the barn to give some sugar to a favorite horse, came back and called to Ruth:
"Let's go for a walk. It's perfectly lovely out, and it will do us both good."
"All right!" agreed Ruth. "I've been sewing all morning and my eyes are tired. Where are you going?"
"Oh, in a direction we have never taken before."
"Don't get lost," advised their father.
"We won't," returned Alice. "Don't you want to come, Daddy?"
"Too busy. I'm studying a new part," he said.
So the two moving picture girls started off, and soon were tramping through the woods, following an old lumber trail.
"This leads to the camp of Flaming Arrow," said Alice, for they had paid the promised visit some time before. "Shall we take it?"
"Yes, but not all the way to the lumber camp," objected Ruth. "That is too far."
"Oh, I wouldn't think of going there now,"responded Alice. "I mean to branch off on the new path I spoke of."
The day was pleasant, but there was the hint of a storm in the feeling of the air and in the clouds, and the hint was borne out a little later, for a fine snow began sifting down.
The girls kept on, however though Ruth wanted to turn back at the first white flake.
"There's going to be a storm," she declared.
"What of it?" asked Alice, with a merry laugh. "It will be all the more fun!"
But a little later, when the wind suddenly sprang into fury, and lashed the flakes into their faces with cutting force, even Alice was ready to turn back.
"Come on," she cried to her sister. "We'd better not go to the snow grotto—that was a natural curiosity I wanted to show you. But we'll have to wait until another time."
"I should think so!" exclaimed Ruth. "This is terrible! Oh, suppose we should be lost?"
"How can we be, when all we have to do is to follow the path back to Elk Lodge?"
Alice thought it would be as easily done as she had said, and Ruth trusted to the fact that her sister had been that way on a previous occasion. But neither of them realized the full force of thestorm, nor how easy it was to mistake the way in blinding snow.
They emerged from a little clump of woods, and then they felt the full force of the blast in their faces.
"Oh, Alice,wecan't go on!" cried Ruth, halting and turning her face aside.
"But we must!" Alice insisted. "We've got to get back. We can't stay out in this snow. It's a small-sized blizzard now, and it is growing worse."
"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Ruth, almost sobbing.
"We must keep on!" declared Alice, grimly.
They locked arms and bent their heads before the blast. They tried to keep to the path, but after a few moments of battling with the storm, Ruth cried:
"Alice where are we?"
"On the way to Elk Lodge, of course."
"No, we're not. We're off the path! See, we didn't come past this big rock before," and she pointed to one that reared up from the snow.
Alice paused for a moment, and then, with a curious note of fear in her voice, she said:
"I—I am afraid we are lost, Ruth. Oh, it is all my fault!"
They stood there together—the two moving picture girls—in the midst of the sudden storm. They stood with their arms about each other, and the frightened eyes of Alice gazed into the terror-stricken ones of Ruth.
"Alice," cried Ruth, "do you really think we are lost?"
"I'm afraid so. I didn't notice which way we were going; but, as you say, we didn't pass that rock before. We must be lost!"
"But what are we to do?"
"We've got to do something, that's sure!" Alice exclaimed. "We can't stay here and freeze."
"Of course not. But if we go on in the storm we may be snowed under."
"And I'm more afraid to stay here. We must keep on the move, Ruth."
"Yes, I suppose so. Oh, if we could only seeour way! We can't be so very far from Elk Lodge."
"We are not," agreed Alice. "We did not walk fast, and we have not been gone very long. The Lodge can't be more than two miles away; but it might just as well be two hundred for all the good that does us in this storm."
Indeed the snow was so thick that it was impossible to see many feet ahead. The white flakes swirled, seeming to come first from one direction, and then from another. The wind blew from all points of the compass, varying so quickly that the girls found it impossible to keep it at their backs.
"Well, there is one thing we can do," said Alice, when they had advanced a few steps and then retreated, not knowing whether it was better to keep on or not.
"And what is it?" asked Ruth. "If there's any one thing to do in a case like this I want to know it."
"We can go over behind that rock and get a little protection from the wind and snow," Alice went on. "See, the snow has drifted on one side; and the other is quite bare. That shows it affords some shelter. Let's go over there."
"Come on," agreed Ruth. She caught her sister's arm in a firmer grasp, and the two girlsplowed their way through the snow. They had, heretofore, been on a sort of path, that had been formed over the crust. The girls had on their snowshoes or they would have scarcely been able to progress. As it was the going was sufficiently difficult.
"Oh, wait a moment!" panted Ruth, half way to the sheltering rock.
"What's the matter?" asked Alice, quickly. "Are you ill?"
"No, don't worry about me, dear. I'm only—out of breath!"
"I positively believe you're getting stout!" laughed Alice, and Ruth was glad that she could laugh, even in the face of impending danger. "You must take more exercise," she went on.
"I'm getting plenty of it now," observed Ruth. "Oh, but it is hard going in this snow!"
Together they struggled on, and finally reached the rock. As Alice had surmised, the big boulder did give them shelter, and they were grateful for it, as they were quite exhausted by their battle with the storm.
"What a relief!" sighed Alice, as she leaned back against the big stone.
"Oh, isn't it!" agreed Ruth. "But, Alice, if we are so played out by that little trip, how are we ever going to get back to Elk Lodge?"
"I don't know, dear," was the hesitating answer. "But we must get back. Maybe the snow will stop after a little, and we can see our way. That is really all we need—to see the path. I'm sure I've been out in worse storms than this."
"It is bad enough," responded Ruth, apprehensively. "See how it snows!"
Indeed the white flakes were coming down with increased violence, and the wind swept and howled about the rock with a melancholy sound. The girls huddled close together.
"Can you ever forgive me for bringing you out in such weather as this?" begged Alice, self-reproachfully.
"It wasn't your fault at all, dear," Ruth reassured her and her arms went about her sister in a loving embrace. "I wanted to come. Neither of us knew this storm would make us get lost."
Alice said nothing for a moment. She was busy arranging a scarf more tightly about her throat, for she felt the flakes blowing and sifting on her, and did not want to take cold. The girls were warmly dressed, which was in their favor.
For five or ten minutes they remained under the lee of the rock, not knowing what to do. They realized, though neither wanted to mention it to the other, that they could not remain there very long. Night would settle down, sooner orlater, and they could not remain out without shelter. Yet where could they go?
"If it would only stop!" cried Ruth.
"Yes, or if someone from Elk Lodge would come after us!" added Alice.
"I'm sure they will!" cried Ruth, catching at this slender hope. "Oh, Alice, I'm sure they'll come."
"And so am I, as far as that is concerned," agreed Alice. "The only trouble is they will not know where to come. Don't you see?"
"But they know where we were going—you mentioned it to daddy."
"I know, but don't you understand, my dear, we're not where we said we would go. We're lost—we're off the path. If it was only a question of someone from the Lodge following the proper path it would be all right. But we're far from it, and they will have no idea where to search for us."
"Couldn't they trail us with—with bloodhounds?"
"Oh, I don't believe it will get as desperate as that. Not that there are any bloodhounds at Elk Lodge. But there are some hunting dogs, and I presume they might be able to follow our trail. Won't it seem odd to be trailed by dogs? Just as if we werefugitiveslaves!"
"I don't care how they trail us, as long as we get back to Elk Lodge!" and there was a sob in Ruth's voice.
The next moment Alice, on whose shoulder Ruth had laid her head, uttered a cry.
"Oh, what is it?" asked the elder girl. "Do you see someone? Are they coming for us?"
"No, but the snow is stopping, and I can see a house—two of them, in fact."
"A house! Good! Is it far off?"
"No, not far. Come on, I believe we can reach it."
As Alice had said, the snow had ceased falling almost as suddenly as it had set in, and this gave the girls a clear view. They had made a little turn from their original direction in getting to the rock, and they had a view down in a little glade. There, as Alice had said, nestled two houses; or, rather log cabins. One was of large size, and the other smaller.
"Let's go there!" suggested Alice. "We can get shelter, and perhaps there is someone in one of the cabins who will take us to Elk Lodge. We can offer to pay him."
"They wouldn't want it," declared Ruth. "But come on. We mustn't lose any time, for the snow may set in again at any moment. We must get there while we can see."
The wind, too, had died out somewhat, so that it was comparatively easy travelling now. Together the girls made their way over the snow toward the smaller of the two cabins, that being the nearer.
They reached it, struggling, panting and out of breath, and after waiting a moment, to allow their laboring hearts to quiet down, that they might speak less brokenly, Alice knocked at the door. There was no answer.
"Oh, suppose they should not be home?" cried Ruth.
"That seems to be the case," spoke Alice, as she knocked again, without result.
"What shall we do—go to the other cabin?" asked Ruth.
"Let's see if this one is open," proposed Alice. "They may be hospitable enough to have left the door unlocked."
As she spoke she tried the latch. Somewhat to her surprise the door did open, and then to the astonishment of both girls they found themselves in an unoccupied cabin.
"Oh dear!" cried Ruth. "What a disappointment!"
"Isn't it?" agreed Alice. "Well, we can try the other."
They stood for a moment in the main room ofthe small cabin, and looked about. There was nothing in it save a few boxes.
"We could make a fire—I have matches, and we could break up the boxes on the hearth," said Alice. "Shall we?"
"No, let's go to the other cabin. I'm sure someone will be there," suggested her sister.
"Come on!"
They stepped to the door, but at that instant the snow began again, harder than before.
"No use!" cried Alice. "We're doomed to stay here, I guess."
"Well, it's a shelter, at any rate," sighed Ruth. She was not frightened now.
"And there's another good thing," went on Alice. "These cabins are a definite place. If a searching party starts out for us Mr. Macksey will be sure to think about these, and look here for us. I think we are all right now."
"We're better off, at any rate," observed Ruth. "I believe we might make a fire, Alice."
"That's what I say."
They had taken off their snowshoes, and now, by stamping and kicking at the boxes, they managed to break them up into kindling wood. Soon a little blaze was crackling on the hearth. The warmth was grateful to the chilled girls.
They stood before it toasting their cold hands,and then, when Ruth went to the window to look out, she called:
"It's stopped snowing again. Don't you think we'd better run to the other cabin while we have the chance?"
"I suppose it would be wise," agreed Alice. "We really ought to start for Elk Lodge, and we could if we had a guide. Come on."
Together they started for the larger cabin, but when half way to it they saw three men coming out. The men had guns over their shoulders, and they headed down the trail, away from the girls.
Not before, however, the two sisters had a good view of the features of the trio. And instantly the same thought came to both.
"Did you see who one of those men was?" gasped Ruth.
"Yes, it is he! And those are the same two men who were with him before," answered Alice.
"Dan Merley—the man who is going to sue daddy for that five hundred dollars!" went on Ruth, clasping her hands.
"And with him are the two men who were present when the street car accident happened in New York—Fripp and Jagle. They are the hunters who have been annoying Mr. Macksey."
"Oh, what shall we do?" asked Ruth. "Wecan't appeal to them for help, not after the way Merley behaved to us."
"Of course not! Oh, isn't it provoking? Just as we see help we can't avail ourselves of it. The men are getting farther and farther away," Alice went on. "If we are going to appeal to them we must be quick about it."
"Don't call to them!" exclaimed Ruth. "It might be dangerous. They haven't noticed us—let them go. But Alice, did you see how Merley seems to have recovered from his accident? He walks as well as the others."
"Yes, so he does. I'm glad they didn't see us. But I have a plan. There may be other persons in the cabin. When the three men are out of sight, and they will be in the woods in a little while, we can go and ask help of whoever is left in the cabin."
"Yes," agreed Ruth, and they waited, going back to the small cabin. "I remember now," Ruth added after a pause, "that man who was in the bushes the time of the coasting race was Fripp. I knew I had seen him somewhere before, but I could not recall him then."
The three men, with their guns on their shoulders, passed out of sight into a clump of woodland.
"Now's our chance," said Alice. "We'll slip over to the other cabin, and see if we can get help. These men are evidently up here on a hunting trip, and they may have a man cook, or some sort of help in the cabin. Whoever it is can't refuse to at least set us on the right road. We don't need to mention that Mr. Merley is going to sue our father."
"I should say not," agreed Ruth. "Oh, that horrid man! I never want to see him again. But isn't it queer how soon he recovered from his injury?"
"Rather odd. We must tell daddy about it when we get back."
"If we ever do," sighed the older girl.
"If we ever do?" repeated Alice. "Why ofcourse we'll get back. I don't believe it is going to storm any more."
"I hope not."
On their snowshoes the moving picture girls made their way to the second cabin. But again disappointment awaited them, for there was no answer to their repeated knocks.
"No one at home," spoke Alice. "Shall we try to go in?"
"It would do no good," Ruth decided. "If it is shelter we want we can get it at the other cabin. And as there is no one at home here we can't ask our way. Besides, those men might come back unexpectedly, and I wouldn't have Merley and his two companions find us in their cabin for anything!"
"Neither would I. That Merley would be mean enough," Alice declared, "to charge us rent, and add that to the five hundred dollars he is going to make daddy pay."
"Oh, Alice! What queer ideas you have. But, dear, we mustn't linger here. I wonder if it would do to follow those men?"
"Follow them? What in the world for?"
"Why they seem to have taken some sort of a trail, and it may lead out to a road that will take us to Elk Lodge."
"It isn't very likely," Alice declared. "I'msure I know the general direction in which Elk Lodge lies, and it's just opposite from where those men went. I think, now, that the storm has stopped, that we can get back on the path."
"Then, for goodness sakes, let's try!" proposed Ruth. "It seems to be getting darker. Oh, if they would only come for us!"
"Let us try to help ourselves first," counseled Alice.
The girls retraced their steps, going back toward the smaller cabin. They stopped in for a moment to see that the blaze they had kindled on the hearth was out, for they did not want a chance spark to set fire to the place. But the embers were cold and dead, for the wood had been light, and there was not much of it.
Then gliding over the crust on their snowshoes, Ruth and Alice got back to the sheltering rock.
"Let me look about a bit," Alice requested. "I think I can pick up the trail again. If I could only get back to the point where we got off from I would be all right."
She walked about a little and then, passing through a small clump of trees, while Ruth remained at the rock, Alice suddenly gave a joyful cry.
"I've found it!" she called. "Come on,Ruth. It's all right. I'm on the proper path now."
Ruth hurried to join her sister, and confirmed the good news. They recognized the path by which they had come, and soon they were traveling along it, certain, now, that they were headed for Elk Lodge.
And their adventures seemed to be over for that day at least, for, on covering about three-quarters of a mile they were delighted to see, hurrying toward them, Russ and Paul.
"There are the boys!" cried Alice.
"And I was never more glad to see anyone in all my life!" exclaimed Ruth.
"We're not lost now, and don't really need them," said Alice.
"Well, don't tell them that—especially after they have been so good as to come for us," advised Ruth.
"Silly! Of course I won't!"
"Well, you two seem to have the oddest faculty for getting into trouble!" cried Russ as he and Paul reached the girls. "The whole Lodge is worried to death about you, and we're all out searching for you."
"Oh, it's too bad we gave so much trouble," responded Ruth, contritely. "But we couldn't help it. We were lost in the storm."
"We thought that likely," Paul said. "Your father is quite worried."
"Is he out searching, too?" Alice asked.
"No, his throat troubles him," the young actor replied. "But every other man at the Lodge is. Mr. Macksey told us to come this way, and if we didn't locate you we were to meet him at some place where there are two cabins."
"We just came from there," Ruth said, "and we had the oddest adventure. I'll tell you about it when we get back. We tried to get a guide to show us the path, but as it happened we didn't need one. Oh, I believe it's snowing again!"
Some white flakes were sifting down.
"It's only a little flurry," decided Paul. "And it won't matter, for the path back is very plain now. But what happened?"
The girls told him, and when he heard that Merley was in the neighborhood, and apparently uninjured, Russ said:
"I always thought that fellow was a faker. I'd like to know what his game was."
"Do you think it is a game?" asked Alice.
"Yes, and I think it's more of a game than the game they are after up here. I think they're hatching some plot."
They arrived at Elk Lodge a little later, and leaving the girls with their father, Russ and Paulwent after the other searchers, to tell them that the lost ones were found.
"You must not go away alone again," cautioned Mr. DeVere to his daughters, when all the searchers had returned, and there was a joyful reunion in the big living room.
"We won't!" promised Alice. "I was really a bit frightened this time."
"Abitfrightened!" cried Ruth. "I was awfully scared! I could see us both frozen stiff under the snow, and the dogs nosing us out as they do travelers in the Alps."
"I'm glad that didn't happen," laughed Russ. "For I suppose if it had Mr. Pertell would have insisted on having a moving picture of it, and I would have been too prostrated with grief to be able to work the camera."
"Well, we're all right now," declared Alice. "And such an appetite as I have!"
"Did you tell your father about Dan Merley?" asked Russ.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Ruth. "Listen Daddy, whom do you think we saw?"
"Not Dan Merley up here?" cried the actor.
"Yes, he was with two other men—those who were with him when he was hurt by the street car."
"Dan Merley up here?" mused Mr. DeVere."I wonder what he can want? Can he be going to make trouble for me?"
"We won't let him, Daddy!" cried Alice. "If he walks over here to ask for that five hundred dollars again, I'll——"
"You say he was walking around?" cried Mr. DeVere.
"Yes, on snowshoes," answered Ruth. "He was walking as well as anyone."
"And he was supposed to be seriously hurt!" murmured the actor. "Where is that paper?" and he looked about him.
"What paper?" asked Ruth.
"That New York paper I was just reading. There is something in it I want to show you. I begin to see through this."
The journal was found, and Mr. DeVere glanced through it rapidly, looking for some item. Russ and the two girls watched him curiously.
"Here it is!" cried the actor. "It is headed 'Brings Damage Suit for Ten Thousand Dollars.' Listen, I'll just give you the main facts. It says Dan Merley had started an action in one of the courts demanding ten thousand dollars' damages for being hurt by a street car. Merley claims he will never be able to walk again, because his back is permanently hurt. And yet you saw him walking?" he appealed to the two girls.
"We certainly saw him," declared Ruth.
"Then that is a bogus damage suit. He isn't hurt at all. The court should know of this, and so should the street car company. I shall write to them!"
"Wait!" cried Russ. "I have a better idea."
"What is it?" asked Mr. DeVere.
"I'll get some moving pictures of him," went on the young operator. "I'll take a film, showing him tramping around, hunting, and when that is shown to the street car company's lawyer I guess that will put an end to Mr. Merley's suit. I'll film the faker!"