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The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast, a novel by Victor Appleton |
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Chapter 6. On The Coast |
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_ CHAPTER VI. ON THE COAST The announcement of Mr. Ringold was followed by a silence, during which Joe and Blake looked at each other. It seemed like too much good fortune to learn that they would still have the company of their friends in this new quest. "Do you really mean that?" asked Joe. "You're not saying it just to help us out; are you, Mr. Ringold?" "No. What makes you think that?" "Because it seems too good to be true. I wouldn't like anything better than to go with your company and make pictures." "The same here," added Blake. "And if, at the same time, I can locate my father," went on Joe, "so much the better, though I don't imagine I will have any trouble finding him, once I can communicate with the government lighthouse board, and learn where he is stationed. They have a list of all employees, I imagine." "Yes, I think so," spoke Mr. Hadley. "As you say, it will be easy to locate him. And, boys, I'm very glad you're going to be with us again. I wouldn't like to break in two new lads, and we will certainly need three photographers to take all the scenes in the sea dramas that are planned." "Will we have to go very far to sea?" asked Macaroni, who was among those who had greeted the moving picture boys. The lads' thin assistant had been kept busy assisting Mr. Hadley while they were after the Indians. "Because if it's very far out on the ocean wave I don't believe I want to go; I'm very easily made seasick." "Oh, we can arrange to keep you near shore," said the theatrical man, with a laugh. "He may be drowned, even near shore," put in C. C., with his most gloomy voice; though he was, at the same time, practicing some new facial contortions that were sending the women members of the troupe into spasms of laughter. "Oh, there you go, Gloomy!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley. "First we know you'll be saying we'll all be smashed in a train wreck going to the coast; or, if not, that we'll be carried off by a tidal wave as soon as we get there." "It might happen," spoke the gloomy comedian, as though both accidents were possible at the same time. "And it may rain--but not to-day," put in Miss Shay, with a look at the hot, cloudless sky. "Then it's all settled," went on Mr. Ringold. "It is understood, Joe, that you can have considerable time, if you need it, to locate your father. The dramas I intend to film will extend over a considerable time, and they can be made whenever it is most convenient. After all, I think it is a good thing that we are going to the Southern California coast. The climate there will be just what we want, and the sunlight will be almost constant." "I'm sure I'm much obliged to you," said Joe. "This trip after the Indian films cost us more than we counted on, and we'll be glad of a chance to make more money. We're down pretty low; aren't we, Blake?" "I'm afraid so. But then, we may get that prize money, and that will help a lot." "That's so," put in Mr. Hadley. "You had better have those films developed, and send them to the geographical society. I wouldn't ship them undeveloped, for they might be light-struck. You were lucky the Indians didn't spoil them." The boys decided to do this, and during the next few days the reels of moving pictures were developed, and some positives printed from them. While the lads had been after the Indians Mr. Ringold had sent for a complete, though small, moving picture outfit, and with this some of the pictures were thrown on a screen. "They're the finest I've ever seen!" declared Mr. Hadley, after inspecting them critically. "That charge of the soldiers can't be beaten, and as for the Indian dances, they are as plain as if we were right on the ground. You'll get the prize, I'm sure; especially since you're the only ones who got any views, as I understand it." Mr. Hadley proved a good prophet, for in due time, after the films reached New York, came a letter from the geographical society, enclosing a substantial check for the two boys. The films were excellent, it was stated, and just what were needed. One other concern, aside from Mr. Munson's, and the one the latter mentioned, which had gone to Indian land, had succeeded in getting a few views of the Indians in another part of the State, but they were nowhere near as good as those Blake and Joe had secured after such trouble and risk. The attempt to get phonographic records had been a failure, the officers of the society wrote, though another attempt would be made if ever the Indians again broke from their reservations. "And if they do," spoke Blake, "I'm not going to chase after them." "Me, either," decided Joe. "I've had enough. Now the sooner we can get to the coast the better I'll like it. Just think, my father must be as anxious to see me as I am to find him; but as near as I can understand it, he doesn't even know that I am alive. Think of that!" "It is rather hard," said Blake, sympathetically. "But it won't be long now. I heard Mr. Ringold say we would start soon." There were a few scenes in some of the dramas enacted in Arizona that yet needed to be filmed, and Joe and Blake helped with this work, Macaroni assisting them and Mr. Hadley. "And after this, nearly all our work will have to do with the sea," said the theatrical man. "I want to depict it in all its phases; showing it calm, and during a storm, the delights of it, as well as the perils of the deep." Before leaving Flagstaff it was decided to give a few exhibitions of some of the moving pictures, so that the residents there, and a number of the cowboys and Indians who had taken part in the plays, might see how they looked on the screen. A suitable building was obtained, and it was crowded at every performance. The Indians were at first frightened, thinking it was some new and powerful kind of "medicine" that might have a bad effect on them. With one accord, when the film the boys had taken, showing the charge of the soldiers on the Moquis, was put on, the redmen rushed from the building. And it was some time before they could be induced to return. "Say, there's my uncle, as plain as anything!" exclaimed Joe, when the excitement had calmed down, and the reel was run over again. "There's Sergeant Duncan, close to Captain Marsh!" and he indicated where the trooper was riding beside the commander of the cavalry. "That's right," agreed Blake, as the pictures flickered over the screen, the figures being almost life size. "And he looks like you, too." "I wonder if my father looks like that?" said Joe, softly. There were busy days ahead of them all now, and there was much work to be done in transporting all the "properties" to the coast, and arranging to move the picture outfit, the cameras and the entire company. The boys had little leisure, but Joe managed to get a letter off to the government lighthouse board, asking for news of his father, Nathaniel Duncan. In reply he got a communication stating that a Mr. Duncan was stationed as assistant keeper at a light near San Diego, and not far from Point Loma. "That's where we want to head for, then," said Joe, as he talked the matter over with his chum. "I wonder if that will suit Mr. Ringold?" It did, as the theatrical manager stated, when the subject was broached to him. Accordingly arrangements were made to ship everything there. The day came to bid farewell to Flagstaff, which had been the stopping place of the theatrical troupe for several months. They had made many friends, and the Indians had become so used to taking their parts in the dramas, and in getting good pay for it, that they were very sorry to see the "palefaces" leave. So, too, were the cowboys, many of whom had become very friendly with our heroes and the theatrical people. "But we've got to go," said Blake, as he shook hands with his acquaintances. "Indeed, if we didn't leave soon," said Joe, "I'd be tempted to start off by myself. I've sent a letter to my dad, telling him all about how strangely I found him, and I'm just aching to see him. I guess he'll be pretty well surprised to get it." "I should imagine so," agreed Blake. "One last round-up to say good-bye!" cried one of the cowboys, as the party started away from the quarters they had occupied. "Everybody get in on this. Whoop her up, boys!" He leaped to his steed, flourished his hat, and began riding around in a circle, firing his big revolver at intervals. "That's the ticket!" shouted the others, as they followed his example. Soon two score of the light-hearted chaps were riding around the little crowd of the boys and their friends, saluting them, and saying farewell in this lively fashion. "Whoop her up!" "Never say die!" "Come again, and we'll exterminate a whole band of redskins for you!" "And have a cattle stampede made to order any day you want!" These were only a few of the many expressions from the cowboys. "Say, if they don't kill themselves, they'll make us deaf, with all that noise," predicted C. C. "This isn't a funeral," declared Mr. Hadley. "It's a jolly occasion, Gloomy Gus!" "Huh! Jolly? First you know some one will be hurt." But no one was, in spite of the direful predictions, and soon the cowboys drew off, with final shots from their revolvers, discharging them in the air. The Indians, too, had their share in the farewell, though they were not so demonstrative as were their companions. "And now for the coast!" cried Blake, as they reached the train. "And my dad," added Joe, and there was a trace of tears in his eyes, which he did not attempt to conceal. Blake knew just how his chum felt, and he found himself wishing that he, too, was going to find some relative. But he knew the only one he had was his aged uncle. Little of incident occurred on the trip to San Diego, which had been decided on as headquarters until a suitable location, away from any town, could be selected directly on the ocean beach. I say little of moment, but C. C. was continually predicting that something would happen, from a real hold-up to a train wreck. "And if that doesn't happen, a bridge will go go down with us," he said. But nothing of the kind occurred, and finally the boys and their friends reached the coast, going to the boarding place they had engaged. "And there's the old Pacific!" exclaimed Joe, as he and Blake went down to the shore of the bay on which San Diego stands. "It isn't very rough, however, and Mr. Ringold said he wanted tumbling waves as a background." "It gets rough at times, though," remarked a fisherman. "Of course, if you want to see big waves you'll have to go beyond this bay. It's pretty well land-locked. Oh, yes, the old Pacific isn't always as peaceful as her name." _ |
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