Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures | Page 3

summer, in spite of all the running around
we did."
"Beg pardon, Miss Fielding," said Tom. "Go on. Tell us some more
recipes. Makes my mouth water."
"O-o-oh! so will these barberries!" exclaimed Helen, making a wry face.
"Just taste one, Tommy."
"Many, many thanks! Good-night!" ejaculated her brother, "I know
better. But those barberries properly prepared with sugar make a
mighty nice drink in summer. Our Babette makes barberry syrup, you
know."
"Ugh! It doesn't taste like these," complained his sister. "Oh, folks!

there are those foolish actors again."
"Now what are they about?" demanded Ruth.
"Look out that you don't bring the car into the focus of the camera,
Tom," his sister warned him. "It will make them awfully mad."
"Don't fret. I have no desire to appear in a movie," laughed Tom.
"But I think I would like to," said his sister. "Wouldn't you, Ruth?"
"I--I don't know. It must be awfully interesting----"
"Pooh!" scoffed Tom. "What will you girls get into your heads next?
And they don't let girls like you play in movies, anyway."
"Oh, yes, they do!" cried his sister. "Some of the greatest stars in the
film firmament are nothing more than schoolgirls. They have what they
call 'film charm.'"
"Think you've got any of that commodity?" demanded Tom, with
cheerful impudence.
"I don't know----Oh, Ruth, look at that girl! Now, Tommy, see there!
That girl isn't a day older than we."
"Too far away to make sure," said Tom, slowly. Then, the next moment,
he ejaculated: "What under the sun is she doing? Why! she'll fall off
that tree-trunk, the silly thing!"
The slender girl who had attracted their attention had, at the command
of the director of the picture, scrambled up a leaning sycamore tree
which overhung the stream at a sharp angle. The girl swayed upon the
bare trunk, balancing herself prettily, and glanced back over her
shoulder.
Tom had brought the car to a stop. When the engine was shut off they
could hear the director's commands:

"That's it, Hazel. Keep that pose. Got your focus, Carroll?" he called to
the camera man. "Now--ready! Register fear, Miss Hazel. Say! act as
though you meant it! Register fear, I say--just as though you expected
to fall into the water the next moment. Oh, piffle! Not at all like it! not
at all like it!"
He was a dreadfully noisy, pugnacious man. Finally the girl said:
"If you think I am not scared, Mr. Grimes, you are very much mistaken.
I am. I expect to slip off here any moment----Oh!"
The last was a shriek of alarm. What she was afraid would happen
came to pass like a flash. Her foot slipped, she lost her balance, and the
next instant was precipitated into the river!
CHAPTER II
THE FILM HEROINE
When the motion picture girl fell from the sycamore tree into the water,
some of the members of the company, who sat or stood near by panting
after their hard chase cross-lots, actually laughed at their unfortunate
comrade's predicament.
But that was because they had no idea of the strength and treacherous
nature of the Lumano. At this point the eddies and cross-currents made
the stream more perilous than any similar stretch of water in the State.
"Oh, that silly girl!" shouted Mr. Grimes, the director. "There! she's
spoiled the scene again. I don't know what Hammond was thinking of
to send her up here to work with us.
"Hey, one of you fellows! go and fish her out. And that spoils our
chance of getting the picture to-day. Miss Gray will have to be
mollycoddled, and grandmothered, and what-not. Huh!"
While he scolded, the director scarcely gave a glance to the struggling
girl. The latter had struck out pluckily for the shore when she came up

from her involuntary plunge. After the cry she had uttered as she fell,
she had not made a sound.
To swim with one's clothing all on is not an easy matter at the best of
times. To do this in mid-winter, when the water is icy, is well nigh an
impossibility.
Several of the men of the company, more humane than the director, had
sprung to assist the unfortunate girl; but suddenly the current caught
her and she was swerved from the bank. She was out of reach.
"And not a skiff in sight!" exclaimed Tom.
"Oh, dear! The poor thing!" cried his sister. "She's being carried right
down the river. They'll never get her."
"Oh, Tom!" implored Ruth. "Hurry and start. We must get that girl!"
"Sure we will!" cried Tom Cameron.
He was already out of the car and madly turning the crank. In a moment
the engine was throbbing. Tom leaped back behind the wheel and the
automobile darted ahead.
The rough road led