The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm | Page 3

the make-up of the
train.
"It seems so," remarked Mr. DeVere, who spoke in a hoarse and husky
whisper, difficult to understand. In fact, as you will learn later, it was
this affliction that had caused him to be acting for moving pictures
instead of in the legitimate drama.
Mr. Pertell took a rapid survey of his little company, and then went off
to make sure that the trunks containing the various costumes had been
properly checked.
"Funny thing about Beatonville," remarked Russ to Ruth.
"Why so?" she asked.
"Oh, every time I inquired of the brakeman, or starter, where the train
for that place left from, they'd laugh. I thought there must be some joke,

and I asked about it."
"Was there?"
"Well, not much of one. It seems that Beatonville is about the last place
in Jersey that anyone ever heads for. I guess it must consist of the depot
and one house--the one where the agent lives. There is only one train a
day and the place is so lonesome, the starter said, that the engineer
hates to stop there."
"Oh, well, we aren't going there for pleasure--we're going to work," put
in Ruth. "Besides, Oak Farm isn't exactly in Beatonville; is it, Russ?"
"No, a few miles out, I believe. Well, it will be a rest for us after the
rush of the city, anyhow."
"All aboard!" called a brakeman, and the Comet Film Company, bag
and baggage, started for the train that was to take them to new scenes of
activity.
"Why do you carry your camera, Russ?" asked Ruth, when she and her
sister were seated near the young man, on whom devolved the duty of
"filming," or taking, the various scenes of the plays it was planned to
produce.
"Oh, I didn't know but what I might see something to 'shoot' it at," he
answered, with a laugh. "You know Mr. Pertell sometimes sends films
to the Moving Picture Weekly Newspaper--scenes of current events. I
might catch one for him on the way."
"I see. Have you ever been to Oak Farm, Russ?"
"Yes, I went up there when Mr. Pertell looked it over to see if it would
do for our new rural dramas."
"What sort of a place is it?" asked Alice.
"Very nice--for a farm."

"Isn't there something queer about it?" asked Ruth. "I mean wasn't there
some sort of a mystery connected with Sandy Apgar, the young farmer
who works it? You know we met him in New York," she added to
Alice.
"Yes, I remember."
"Mystery?" spoke Russ, musingly. "Well, I believe there is something
wrong about the place--not exactly a mystery, though. Maybe it's some
sort of trouble. Well, here we go!"
The train had started out into the "wilds of Jersey," as Wellington Bunn,
the tragic actor, put it. It was about forty miles to Beatonville, the trip
occupying nearly two hours, for the train was not a fast one. The
members of the company conversed on various topics in regard to some
of the projected plays.
The train had stopped at a small station, and was gathering speed when
there suddenly came such an application of the air brakes as to cause
several persons in the aisle to fall. Others slid from their seats, or were
thrown against the backs of the seats in front of them.
"What is it?"
"What's the matter?"
"An accident--let's get out!"
Before anyone could do anything, though, there was a terrific smash,
and amid the wild tooting of a whistle could be heard the crashing and
splintering of wood. Then the train came to a stop with a jerk that
further scattered the frightened passengers.
"A smash-up!"
"A collision!"
"Oh, let's get out of here!"

No one could tell who was saying these things. They were shouted over
and over again.
Russ Dalwood picked himself up from the floor of the car. A glance
told him that no member of the company had been more than jarred or
shaken, for their car was intact, and no windows were broken.
He helped Alice back to her seat, from which she had slid. Ruth had
risen to her feet. Russ caught up his camera and made for the door.
"Oh, where are you going?" cried Alice, nervously clutching her leather
purse. "Is any one hurt?"
"I don't know--I'm going to see," answered Russ. "And I'm going to
film this smash. I may be able to get some good pictures for our
newspaper service, Mr. Pertell," he added, as he hurried out.
CHAPTER II
A MISSING DOG
After the first crash, the sudden stop, and the terrified cries, a silence
followed that was almost as startling and nerve-racking as the accident
had been.
Then benumbed senses gradually came back to their owners, and the
passengers