by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER IX
MAKING HIS WAY
Dave felt as if he was in some unreal, topsy-turvy dream. Everything waslike a Wild West picture, and he closed his eyes wondering if his falland roll down the side of the ravine had not sent his wits astray.
The fling of the tomahawk he saw was real, so was the sharp report ofthe gun. Above all, the heavy foot pressing down on his body and holdinghim motionless was tangible.
Dave opened his eyes as the foot was suddenly removed, to view anamazing spectacle. The “Indian” had taken out a pipe and was leisurelyfilling it. The “hunter” had picked up the “tomahawk”, which had strucka piece of rock and split open, showing that it was made of papiermache. Across the ravine the young man had risen to his feet and wasyawning and stretching, and the young lady walked away putting up herparasol.
“Mind yourself, now,” spoke the owner of the foot that held Dave aprisoner, and he reached down, grasped the boy by the arm and set him onhis feet.
“I say!” gasped Dave vaguely—“what is this?”
“Moving picture,” replied the man briefly.
“Yes, it moved quick enough,” said Dave slowly. “Oh, I see now,” headded, as, a step advanced, he came in view of several persons near twoautomobiles down the valley, and in their midst a camera.
It was all plain to Dave in a moment. The persons he saw were acting outa motion picture. He had heard of these groups before. In the presentinstance they had selected a pretty natural spot as a framework fortheir acting. Dave had stumbled upon them at a moment when aparticularly thrilling drama was in progress.
“Come on with us,” spoke the man who had played the Indian, looking Daveover curiously. “We’re going to have lunch, and if you’ll carry my trapsdown to the camp you shall have a snack.”
“Thank you,” replied Dave, greatly interested in the group, and nothingloth to accepting the invitation.
The man had motioned to a spot under a near tree where a satchel lay. Itwas open and he closed it, but not before Dave saw that it was filledwith his acting wardrobe.
Dave followed after the two men. They soon reached the first automobile.Here a man, apparently the chauffeur and general utility man, wasplacing food on a piece of canvas spread on the ground as a tablecloth.
Nobody paid any attention to Dave, who set down the satchel as directed.The chauffeur had a large, well-filled hamper beside a tree stump whichserved for a table. Dave went up to him.
“Can’t I help you, mister?” he asked pleasantly.
“Why, yes, you can,” was the prompt response. “It’s pretty rushingaround here when the people get hungry.”
Dave under direction set seven wooden plates and as many paper napkinson the impromptu table. He sliced up two long loaves of bread, carriedthe cold meat and fruit to the table, and went to a spring nearby tofill a big tin pail with cool, sparkling water.
A young man wearing glasses, and smart looking and brisk, seemed to bethe manager. He beckoned Dave and the chauffeur to join the familyparty. Dave enjoyed the liberal meal immensely. He was interested andentertained with the continuous chatter of the group about him.
“What’s the programme, Mr. Alden?” asked the big fellow who had actedthe Indian.
The man addressed took a roll of manuscript out of his pocket. Heseparated the sheets and passed one around to each of the party.
“There’s your parts,” he said. “Scenario: ‘The Ruined Mill’.”
“I don’t see any mill,” observed the man who had played the hunter,looking up and down the ravine.
“Two miles farther on, according to my directions,” explained the leaderof the party, consulting his note book.
Dave was so interested that he planned that he would linger with thegroup till he had seen how they made a moving picture film. When one ofthe crowd whom they called Davis moved away from the table and went tothe intricate outfit near the wagon, Dave unobtrusively followed him. Hewas engrossed in watching the process of “loading up” the film reels,when the manager came up.
“See here, Davis,” he said in his jerky, energetic way, “we’ll have toget busy if we expect to cover the programme in daylight.”
“I told you that myself,” was the retort.
“I’ve waited two hours for Banks now.”
“He’s got delayed somehow.”
“The only bother is the rescue of the heroine in the mill race.”
“Cut that act out, then.”
“Why, it’s the thriller of the scene. No, I can’t do that. None of thefellows can swim, though, and I don’t see what we are going to do.”
Dave fancied he understood the situation. In an eager way he pressedforward.
“Mr. Alden,” he said, “can’t I be of some help to you?”
“Hey, what?” exclaimed the man, looking Dave over. “A boy? But then—lookhere, can you swim?”
“Like a fish.”
“Then you’ll do. Why, this is big luck. Hi, Dollinger, start up themachines. It’s wasting time waiting for Banks any longer.”
Dave got into the smaller automobile after the traps lying about hadbeen packed into it. The others boarded the larger and more elegantmachine. They went a roundabout way to strike a traversed road, and inabout an hour came to the stream again.
It was where an old abandoned mill stood. Mr. Alden gave Dave one of theacts of the “Scenario”, as he called it. He explained to Dave what hewas to do.
“Put on this suit,” directed the manager, selecting some clothing from abig box. “Better wear a wig and whiskers, so you’ll look more like aman. These moccasins will fit your feet. Now, you understand, when thevillain pushes the heroine into the mill stream, you are to act yourpart. Just follow the cues in your typewritten screed there.”
“All right,” reported Dave promptly, “I think I know what you wish me todo.”
It was like watching a play, the various scenes that were enacted insideand outside of the old mill, all forming part of a very interestingstory. As it neared its end, Dave took a fishing rod, as directed, andseated himself on the bank of the stream a few yards from the mill.
At the sound of a whistle he glanced at the mill, arose, dropped hisfishing pole, tore off his coat, and took a plunge into the water,throwing his arms up in the air and floating down the swiftly rollingstream. The heroine came floating into view.
She splashed around and seemed about to sink as Dave reached her. Hecaught her, swam for the shore, and both went off to change theirdripping attire.
“You did that very well,” said Mr. Alden in a kindly tone, coming up toDave some minutes later. “You can keep those moccasins if you like,” hewent on. “And here’s your pay for helping us.”
The speaker handed Dave a dollar bill. There had been considerable of afascination to the little business part Dave had played. He would nothave been sorry if Mr. Alden had offered him continued employment. Thelatter forgot him in a moment, however, bustling about and directing theothers, who piled into the big automobile.
“You had better wait here about an hour, Dollinger,” he spoke to the manwho attended to the rough work of the party.
“All right, sir.”
“Banks may come along. If he does, fetch him on to Fairfield.”
“What’s that!” said Dave with sharp interest to Dollinger. “Is the partygoing to Fairfield?”
“Yes, that’s next on the route, I understand,” answered Dollinger.
“Say,” broke in Dave eagerly, “I don’t suppose you could crowd me intoyour machine and take me that far?”
“Why not?” quizzed Dollinger, good naturedly.
“I’ll help you double work, if you could,” persisted Dave.
“That’s where you’re headed for, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you’re welcome to a seat in the machine. I like your company,”observed Dollinger cheeringly.
Both of them bustled about getting
the traps of the party stowed intothe most convenient compass. After that Dollinger waited an additionalhour for the man Mr. Alden expected.
“I reckon we’ve filled orders,” said Dollinger finally. “It looks likerain, and if we expect to reach Fairfield before dark we had better makea move.”
A storm overtook them ten miles on their way. They were, however, thenon a good road, and found shelter in a wayside shed. There was stillfurther delay when the auto broke down in a deep rut. Dollinger had tosend Dave on to the near village to bring a repair man to the scene.
It was about dusk when they started again. While the man was makingrepairs Dollinger and Dave ate their supper.
“There are the lights of Fairfield, I guess,” spoke Dollinger, as theydrove down a well ballasted road. “Mr. Alden and his people have gone toa hotel, and I will have to call on him for directions as to where I amto put up. I generally rough it this fine weather.”
The rain had ceased, but a fierce wind was blowing, the sky wasovercast, and altogether it was a disagreeable evening. Dollingerlocated the hotel where Mr. Alden was stopping. He went in and shortlycame out with a card in his hand.
“All right,” he reported, “I know where to go to.”
Dave’s plans were half formed in his mind. He was delighted to realizethat he had reached Fairfield so readily—that, too, he congratulatedhimself, with comfortable footwear and over a dollar in his pocket. Ofcourse his first thought was of Mr. King, the airman. Dave reflected,though, that a dark night in a strange town was not a condition favoringa search for a stranger. He was pretty well tired out, and he kept withDollinger, hoping something might turn up that would give him a free bedfor the night.
Dollinger ran the automobile quite out of the city. Finally he lined thefence of some kind of an enclosure. Dave noticed that it was ofconsiderable extent, but in the dark, he could not make out exactly whatit was.
They at length reached a wide gateway. Outside of it was a smallbuilding resembling a switchman’s shanty. There was a light inside of itand an old man moving about.
Dollinger stopped the automobile, leaped out and knocked at the door ofthe building. He showed the card to the man inside who read it, seemedto give some directions to Dollinger, and then came out and unlocked thegate.
He locked it shut again when the automobile had entered the enclosure.Dollinger drove across an open space, reversed, and backed into one of aseries of low sheds with the front open and exposed to wind and weather.
“Now then,” he said to Dave, “we’re housed for the night. Want to staywith me?”
“It will save me the price of a lodging somewhere else,” explained Dave.
“You’ve earned a sure one here,” declared Dollinger. “Nothing like thepure open air for health. I’ll rig you up a shakedown that will pleaseyou, I’ll guarantee.”
Dollinger was as good as his word. He spread blankets over the roomyseats of the automobile, and Dave voted he had never welcomed a morepleasant resting place.
Dave slept like a top. It was broad daylight when he awoke. For a momenthe forgot where he was. Just as he arose Dave gave a jump, a gasp and acry.
Gazing out through the open front of the shed Dave saw a dazzling objectcavorting swiftly above the ground.
“An airship!” shouted Dave Dashaway in a transport of delight.
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