The Moving Picture Girls in War Plays | Page 6

stuff is going big now," Russ answered. "All this talk of
preparedness, you know, the war in Europe, and all that. The public is
fairly 'eating up' war pictures."
"I hope we don't have to fire any guns!" exclaimed Ruth, with a
shudder.
"You'll see and hear plenty of 'em fired," Russ told her. "There are to be
some big battle scenes and cavalry charges. But one of you will be back
of the firing line, I believe."
"How is that?" asked Alice.
"Well, one of you girls is to be cast for an army nurse, and the other
will be a spy. The spy has to carry a revolver."
"I'm going to be the spy!" cried Alice, impetuously. "I know how to
shoot a gun."
"I'd rather be the nurse," murmured Ruth, and truly she was better fitted
for that part.
"'A Girl in Blue and A Girl in Gray' is to be the title of the war play--or
at least one of them," went on Russ. "There will be some lively scenes,
and I'll be on the jump most of the time."
"Are you going to film them all?" asked Paul.
"Oh, no. I'm to have several assistants, but I'll be in general charge of
the camera squad. So, girls, look your prettiest."
"They always do that," said Paul.
"Thank you!" came in a feminine duet.
A little later the place where the retake was to be made was reached.
Mr. Bunn was on hand, wearing his air of "Hamletian gloom," as Alice

whispered, and the work of retaking the scenes was soon under way.
This time all went well. Alice drove her "flivver" at Mr. Bunn, who
was properly knocked down and looked after by Ruth. No small boys,
with an exaggerated sense of humor, got in the way, and the girls were
shortly back in their apartment. They had moved to a more pretentious
home since their success in moving pictures, and the Dalwoods had
taken an apartment in the same building.
"And now to get on with my packing!" sighed Alice. "All I am sure of
is that I have my 'brogans' in."
"I'll help you," offered Ruth.
Two days later the Comet Film Company, augmented for the occasion,
was at the depot in Hoboken, ready to take the Lackawanna train out to
Oak Farm, New Jersey, where it nestled in the hills of Sussex County.
"I don't see how they are going to take battle scenes with just this
company," observed Alice, as she surveyed her fellow workers. "And
where are the guns and horses?"
"They'll come up later," Russ informed her. "There are to be two big
companies and a couple of batteries, but they won't be on hand until
they are really needed. It costs too much to keep them when they are
not working."
"Are you all here?" asked Mr. Pertell hurrying along the seats with a
handful of tickets--"counting noses," so to speak.
"All here, I think," answered Russ.
"Where is Carl Switzer?" asked the manager.
"He was here a minute ago," Alice said.
"Well, he isn't here now," remarked Mr. Bunn.
"And almost time for the train to start!" exploded the director. "We

need him in some of the first scenes to-morrow. Get him, somebody!"
"Hey, Mister! Does yer mean dat funny, moon-faced man what talks
like a pretzel?" asked a newsboy in the station.
"Yes, that's Mr. Switzer," was the answer. "Where is he?"
"I jest seen him go out dat way," and the boy pointed toward the doors
leading to the street in front of the ferry. This street led over to the
interned German steamships at the Hoboken piers.
CHAPTER III
HARD AT WORK
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Mr. Pertell. "I might have known that if
Switzer came anywhere near his German friends he'd be off having a
confab with them. Go after him, somebody! It's only five minutes to
train time, and it will take those Germans that long to say how-de-do to
one another, without getting down to business."
"I'll get him," offered Paul, hurrying off toward the swinging doors.
"I'll go wit' youse," said the newsboy. "I likes t' listen t' him talk. Does
he do a Dutch act?"
"Sometimes," laughed Paul.
"Youse is actors, ain't youse?" the boy asked.
"Movies," answered Paul, hurrying along toward the entrance to the
shipyards.
"I wuz in 'em onct," went on the lad. "Dey wuz a scene where us guys
wuz sellin' papes, an' anudder guy comes along, and t'rows a handful of
money in de street--he had so much he didn't know what t' do wit'
it--dat wuz in de picture," he explained. "I wuz in de scene."
"Was it real money?" asked Paul.

"Naw--nottin' but tin," and the tone expressed the disappointment that
had been experienced. "But we