CHAPTER I
A LONG-DISTANCE CALL
"Say, this looks bad, Joe! It sure does!"
"What's that, Blake? Must be quite serious, to make you sit up and takenotice."
"It is! Look at the scare head!" and the speaker held out, for theinspection of his companion, a newspaper the front page of which fairlybristled with black type.
They were two youths, sitting under a cherry tree, on the green grass ofa lawn which fronted a farmhouse. They were evidently taking their ease,or had been, for there were comfortable chairs near them, two hammocks,and a pile of magazines, while on a board seat, built into a crotch ofthe cherry tree, was a large pitcher of lemonade. And if that doesn'tshow comfort on a warm, sunny June day I don't know what does.
"Where'd you get that paper?" asked Joe Duncan, as he accepted the sheethis companion, Blake Stewart, passed over.
"It came in the mail, but I didn't take it out of the wrapper until asecond ago. It's yesterday's. Some news that; eh?"
"It sure is," and as Joe began to read, Blake looked over his shoulder,murmuring such expressions as: "Worst flood in years! Many houses sweptaway! Toll of lives will be heavy! Many deeds of heroism! Mississippi ongreat rampage!"
What Blake gave expression to was merely quoted from some of the linesin the heading of the article that had so excited him and his chum. Itwas a telegraphed story of a big flood on the Mississippi, which, thearticle stated, was higher than it had been in years, while unusuallyheavy spring rains had added to the terrors of the rising waters.
"That sure is some flood!" murmured Joe, as he reached the bottom of thenewspaper page, and turned the sheet over. "Hello!" he cried. "They'vegot some pictures of it, too!"
Almost all of the second page was taken up with half-tone cuts of scenesin the flooded districts. There were views of overturned houses beingswept down a turbulent stream, pictures of half-demolished buildings,jammed together into a rude sort of raft, on which could be seen farmanimals; views of whole towns partly inundated, and people being takenfrom roofs and out of third-story windows in small boats. It was aphotographic story of untold misery and desolation.
"Yes, sir, that sure is some flood, Blake," murmured Joe. "And do youknow what I think?"
"I might make a guess at it, old man."
But Joe did not give his chum a chance. He went on hastily:
"I think we ought to go out there with our moving picture cameras, andget some films of that flood."
"I thought you were going to say that."
"Then you're not surprised. But how does it strike you?"
"Well, I sure would like to see the Mississippi on a tear the like ofwhich she's having now, for it would be something worth remembering. AndI suppose we could make a neat little sum, over and above our expenses,if we went out there and got a lot of films. We could work them offthrough the moving picture newspaper syndicate easily enough. But youknow why we came out here to Central Falls; don't you, Joe?" addedBlake.
"To get a good rest in the country, of course."
"That's it, and we're getting it. There isn't anything I like betterthan this," and Blake, who had stretched out in lazy luxury on thegrass, looked up at the blue sky, and into the cherry tree, which wasladen with luscious fruit. "All I want now is a robin to come along,pick the cherries and drop them down to me," went on Blake, with a grin.
"Say, you don't want much," laughed Joe. "But it sure is nice here," andhe looked across the fertile farm acres that stretched away to the rear,and on either side of the comfortable house, in the shade of which theywere taking their ease.
"Finest place we could strike to spend a vacation," agreed Blake.
"But, all the same, I think we're missing a chance if we don't go outthere and get some Mississippi flood pictures," went on Joe. "How doesit strike you?"
"Say, I wish you hadn't mentioned it, Joe! Now you've got me going! Ifwe hadn't seen a big story of it in the papers we'd be content to sithere, and take it easy. But, now that the germ has got to working----"
"Then you'll go there with me, and take our moving picture camerasalong; won't you?" interrupted Joe, eagerly. "I tell you we may neverhave another chance like this!
"We've got pictures of earthquakes, of volcanoes in eruption, of wildanimals fighting, and lots of other exciting things. But we never yettackled a flood," went on Joe, with ever-growing enthusiasm. "And youknow moving water always shows up well on the films."
"Oh, I can see what all this is leading to," broke in Blake. "Good-byeto all the fine, lazy times we've been having the last two weeks. Nomore lying in bed as long as you like--no more chicken dinners--we'll belucky if we can hold a sandwich in one hand and grind away at the crankof the moving picture camera with the other. Good-bye to a good day'sfishing in the brook. No more cherry pie, and no more lemonade in theshade. And, speaking of lemonade, we might as well finish this pitcher,and get ready to go. I can see what is going to happen," and he sighedin pretended dolefulness.
"Oh, don't go just because I suggested it, Blake," said Joe, quickly.
"Oh, no, I'm not blaming you. It's just that it's in our blood, I guess.We can't seem to keep away from places where there are moving picturesto be made. Might as well get started. Here, have some," and he pouredout a drink of lemonade.
"Oh, we'll have a good time, as well as some work, if we go out there,"declared Joe. "It won't be as bad as you try to make out. Didn't wealways have good times on our trips?"
"Yes, and strenuous times, too. I'm not making any kick. Only if wehadn't seen that newspaper we could still be sitting here in the shade,eating cherries----"
Something fell with a thud on Blake's upturned face.
"Wow!" he cried. "I guess that robin's getting busy," for a ripe,luscious cherry had fallen from above, and Blake laughed as he popped itinto his mouth.
"It's a good thing this isn't a cocoanut tree," remarked Joe. "Youwouldn't feel so jolly if one of those hit you."
"I guess not. Well, I s'pose we might as well go in and tell Mr. Bakerthat we're going to leave him. We can pack up to-day, and start Westto-morrow. We'll have to have the cameras sent on from New York. We canorder them and a supply of film by telegraph. I guess we could telephonethe message in. That will save a trip to town, and we haven't muchtime," added Joe.
"There you go! Off with a rush! Telephones and telegrams. Walking willbe too slow for you! Everything bang-up! Let her go!" cried Blake,swinging his arms to indicate progress. "Good-bye, vacation!" he cried."The strenuous life from now on!"
The two youths arose from the grass, and together they started for thehouse at which they were boarding.
They had gone only a few steps, however, when, from across the countryroad, and a short distance down it, came a hail.
"Who's that?" asked Joe.
"I don't know--listen!" suggested Blake. "Are they calling us?"
There was no doubt about it a moment later, for the boys heard a voiceshouting:
"Hi there! Joe! Blake! Moving Picture Boys! You're wanted!"
"Who is it? I can't see," murmured Joe.
"It's Harry, the clerk in Robertson's store," answered Blake, for ashort distance away was the general store--"The Universal Emporium," asthe sign had it--of Hank Robertson, of Central Falls.
"Come on, boys!" went on the voice of the caller, who was out of sightbecause of a roadside hedge. "You're wanted on the long-distancetelephone!"
"Ugh!" groaned Blake. "Might have known it. Did you start this, Joe?"and he looked at his chum suspiciously.
"Don't know a thing about it. Who can want us on the 'phone?"
"Best way's to go and find out. Mighty queer, though, that just as weread of the Mississippi flood, and decide to go, someone should ring usup on long distance. I thought we got rid of all that when we came herefor our vacation. Things have started with a rush."
"Say, are you comin'?" demanded the store clerk. "Central has beenringin' like all possessed!
Must be important!"
"I guess it is, or they wouldn't telephone," murmured Blake.
"We're coming!" cried Joe.
Together the boys hurried out into the road, and turned down toward thestore.
There were not many telephones in the country village of Central Falls.They were considered too much of a luxury. But Hank Robertson was ratherprogressive, and had had a long distance instrument installed in hisstore some time before.
"There you be, boys!" he said, as Joe and Blake entered. "I knew as soonas I heard the bell ring that it was long distance. I answered, and sentHarry out to call you."
"Much obliged," spoke Blake. "Do you know who it is?"
"Nope. It was Central talking. She said either of you two was wanted."
Blake stepped to the instrument, and took up the receiver, which hadbeen standing upright on the desk.
"Hello!" he called into the transmitter. Then he was silent, but, fromthe look of wonder and surprise that spread over his face as helistened, Joe knew that it was something important, and out of theusual.
The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood; Or, Perilous Days on the Mississippi Page 2
