The
Moving Picture Girls
Under the Palms

OR

Lost in the Wilds of Florida

BY

Laura Lee Hope

AUTHOR OF "THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS," "THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT OAK FARM," "THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES," "THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND NEW YORK

Made in U.S.A.

Copyright, 1914, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

PRESS OF
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

OVERBOARD

"All ready now! In position, everyone!"

Half a score of actors and actresses moved quickly to their appointed places, while overhead, and at the sides of them hissed powerful electric lights, and in front of them stood a moving picture camera, ready to be operated by a pleasant-faced young man.

"Ready?" came in questioning tones from Mr. Pertell, the stage director, as he looked sharply from one to the other.

A tall, well-built man, with iron-gray hair, nodded, but did not speak.

"Let her go, Russ!" Mr. Pertell exclaimed.

"Vait! Vait a minute!" called one of the actors, with a pronounced German accent.

"Well, what's the matter now, Mr. Switzer?" asked the director, with a touch of impatience.

"I haf forgotten der imbortant babers dot I haf to offer mine enemy in dis play. I must have der babers."

"Gracious, I should say so!" said the manager. "Where's Pop Snooks?" and he looked around for the property man, who had to produce on short notice anything from a ten-ton safe to a hairpin.

"Hi, Pop!" called Mr. Pertell. "Make up a bundle of important, legal-looking papers, with seals on. Mr. Switzer has to use 'em in this play. I forgot to tell you."

"Have 'em for you right away!" cried the property man, and a little later Mr. Switzer had his "babers."

"I guess we're all right now. Start up, Russ," ordered the stage director, who was also the manager of the troupe.

"That was a mistake on the part of Mr. Pertell; wasn't it, Ruth?" asked one of the young actresses—a pretty girl—of her sister, who stood near her in the mimic scene.

"Yes, indeed, Alice. But it isn't often he makes one."

"No, indeed. Oh, we mustn't talk any more. I see him looking at us."

"Begin!" called the manager, sharply, and the play proceeded, while the young moving picture operator clicked away at the handle of his camera, the long strip of film moving behind the lens with a whirring sound, and registering views of the pantomime of the actors and actresses at the rate of sixteen a second.

The above was done several times a day in the New York studio of the Comet Film Company, which was engaged in making moving pictures.

The play went on through the various acts. Only part of it was being "filmed" now—the interior scenes. Later, others would be taken outdoors.

"Time out—hold your positions!" suddenly exclaimed the operator. "Film's broken. I've got to mend it."

Everyone came to a standstill at that. In a few seconds the damage was repaired, and the play went on. It was, in the main, a "parlor" drama, and there were to be only a few outdoor scenes.

"That will do for the present," said Mr. Pertell. "You may all take a rest now. This will be our last New York play for some time—that is, after we get the outdoor scenes for this."

"Where are we going next?" asked the elderly actor before mentioned. He spoke in very hoarse voice, and it was evident that he had some throat affection. In fact, it was the ailment which had forced him to give up acting in the "legitimate," and take to the "movies."

"We are going to Florida—the land of the palms!" announced the manager. "You know I spoke of tentative plans for a drama down there when we were in the backwoods. Now I have everything arranged, and we will leave on a steamer for St. Augustine one week from to-day."

"Hurrah for Florida!" exclaimed a young actor, with a strikingly good-looking face. "There's where I've always wanted to go."

"So have I!" exclaimed a young girl who stood near him,—a girl with merry, brown eyes. "Will you take me out after oranges, Paul?" she asked, mischievously.

"Certainly, Alice," he answered.

"Why don't you say orange blossoms while you're about it?" inquired another actress, with a pert manner.

Alice blushed, and her sister Ruth looked sharply at Miss Laura Dixon, who had made the rather pointed remark.

"I'm willing to make it orange blossoms!" laughed the young fellow. "That is, if they're in season."

"Ah, stop all this nonsense!" exclaimed Alice. "I want to ask Mr. Pertell a lot of questions about where we're going, and all that. Oh, to think we are really going to Florida!"

"Yes, we are all going," went on Mr. Pertell. "I think—"

"One moment, if you please!" interrupted a middle-aged actor whose face seemed to indicate that he lived more on vinegar than on the milk of human kindness. "We are not all going, if you please, Mr. Pertell."

"Who is not going, Mr. Sneed, pray?" the manager wanted to know.

"I, for one. I have gone through many hardships and dangers acting in moving pictures for you, but I draw the line at Florida."

"Why, I think it's perfectly lovely there!" exclaimed Miss Pearl Pennington, a chum of Miss Dixon.

"Do you call alligators lovely?" asked Mr. Pepper Sneed, who was known as "the actor with the grouch." He was always finding fault. "Lovely alligators!" he sneered. "If you want to go to Florida, and be eaten by an alligator—go. I'll not!"

Some of the younger members of the company looked rather serious at this. They had not counted on alligators.

"Now look here!" exclaimed Mr. Pertell. "That's all nonsense. We are going where there are no alligators; but I'll pay anyone who is injured in the slightest by one of the saurians a thousand dollars!"

"Then I'll go!" cried Mr. Sneed, who was rather "close," and fond of money. "But I'm not going to stand a very big bite for that sum!" he stipulated, while the others laughed.

"I'll grade the payments according to the bites, at the rate of a thousand dollars a big bite," declared the manager, also laughing.

"Now then, you may make your plans accordingly. As I said, we leave by steamer for St. Augustine by way of Jacksonville this day week."

"And will all the scenes be taken in St. Augustine?" asked one of the company.

"No, we shall go into the interior. I expect we may go to a place near Lake Kissimmee, and there—"

"Lake Kissimmee!" exclaimed Alice DeVere, in surprise.

"What about it?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Are you afraid to go there?"

"No, but two girls whom we met on the train going to Deerfield, when we were preparing to make the ice and snow dramas, were going to a place near there. We may meet them."

"That's so!" agreed Ruth.

"I hope you will," went on Mr. Pertell. "Lake Kissimmee, however, is only one of the interior places we shall touch. I will tell you more detailed plans later."

"I—ah—er—presume we shall have a little time to—er—see the sights of St. Augustine; will we not?" asked one of the actors, in affected, drawling tones.

"Oh, yes, plenty of time, Mr. Towne," answered Mr. Pertell. Claude Towne was a new member of the company, rather a "dudish" sort of chap, and not, as yet, very well liked. He dressed in what he considered the "height of fashion."

The week that followed was a busy one for every member of the Comet Film Company. Not that they were required to do much acting in front of the camera; for, after the outdoor scenes in connection with the current play were made, Russ Dalwood, the operator, packed up his belongings ready for the Florida trip.

The others were doing the same thing, and Mr. Pertell was kept busy arranging for transportation, and hotel accommodations, and for the taking care of such films as he would send back from the interior of Florida, since none would be developed there. This work would have to be done, and positives printed for the projecting machines, in New York. This custom was generally followed when the company went out of town.

"Well, are we all here?" asked Mr. Pertell one morning as he reached the steamer, which lay at her dock in New York, ready for the trip to the land of the palms.

"I think so," answered Russ, who had with him a small moving picture camera. He had an idea he might see something that would make a good film.

"No one missing?" went on the manager. "That's good. Oh, by the way, did Mr. Towne arrive? He 'phoned to me that he might be a little late."

"Yes, he's here," answered Russ. "The last I saw of him he was looking in a mirror, arranging his necktie."

"Humph! He's too fond of dress," commented the manager, "but he does well in certain society parts, and that's why I keep him."

The confusion of the passengers and late freight coming aboard gradually grew less. Whistles sounded their bass notes, and gongs clanged.

"All ashore that's goin' ashore!" came the warning cry, and there was a hurried departure of those who had come to see friends or relatives off on the voyage.

The moving picture company were gathered together in one place on the deck, and they waved to other members of the company who were not to make the trip, for Mr. Pertell employed a large number of actors, and only a comparatively few of them were going to Florida. The others would continue to work in New York.

The steamer moved slowly away from the dock, in charge of a fussy tug, but presently she began forging ahead under her own steam, moving slowly at first. Soon, however, the vessel was well down the harbor.

Alice and Ruth DeVere, with Russ Dalwood and Paul Ardite, were standing amidships, on the port side, looking down into the water. A little in advance of them stood Mr. Towne and Miss Pennington. The latter had been much in the new actor's company of late.

"They seem quite interested in each other," remarked Russ, in a low tone.

"Yes, they have something in common," added Alice—"a love of good clothes."

"I like nice things myself," put in Ruth, straightening a bow she wore. "You shouldn't say such things, Alice."

"Oh, but you like them in the right way—so do I, for that matter. But I don't go to the extremes they do, and neither do you."

"Hush! They'll hear you," cautioned her sister, for Alice was very impulsive at times.

Indeed the dudish actor and Miss Pennington were glancing rather curiously in the direction of our friends. Then Miss Dixon came along, whispering something that caused the other to laugh.

"Fawncy that now! Only fawncy!" exclaimed Mr. Towne, in his exaggerated English drawl. "That's a good joke—on them!"

"I wonder if they mean us?" spoke Paul. "If I thought so I'd go ask them what the joke was, so we could laugh, too."

"Oh, don't," begged Ruth, who disliked "scenes."

The mirth of Miss Dixon and Miss Pennington seemed to increase rather than diminish, and Mr. Towne was now fairly roaring with merriment. He laughed so hard, in fact, that he coughed, and leaned back against the rail for support.

And then something happened. Just how no one could explain, but Mr. Towne went overboard, his arms and legs wildly waving, and his cane flying far out into the river. He struck the water with a splash, just as one of the deckhands yelled:

"Man overboard!"

CHAPTER II

TO THE RESCUE

"Lower a boat!"

"Throw him a life preserver!"

"Stop the ship!"

Wild and excited were the cries that followed the accident. Russ and Paul were among the first to act, the former getting a life preserver from one of the racks, while Paul caught up one of the round, white life rings and tossed it far out toward a commotion in the water that indicated where Mr. Towne had disappeared. They had to throw the articles toward the stern of the steamer, as she was in motion, and Mr. Towne was soon some distance astern.

"Stop the ship!" repeated scores of voices, when the nature of the accident was understood.

Discipline and boat drill were at a high state of perfection aboard the steamer, and soon, with a warning blast of her whistle, the craft trembled under the power of her reversed engines.

"Lower away a boat! Smartly, men!" called one of the officers, as he ran up to the davits whence hung a life-boat.

And while preparations are under way to rescue the unfortunate actor, may I take just a few moments to acquaint my new readers with something of the former books of this series?

The initial volume was entitled "The Moving Picture Girls; Or, First Appearances in Photo Dramas." In that was related how Hosmer DeVere, a talented actor, suddenly lost his voice, through the return of a former throat ailment. He was unable to go in his part in a legitimate drama, and, through the suggestion of Russ Dalwood, who lived in the same apartment house with the DeVeres, in New York, Mr. DeVere took up moving picture acting.

His two daughters, Ruth, aged seventeen, and Alice, aged fifteen, also became engaged in the work, and later they were instrumental in doing Russ Dalwood a great service in connection with a valuable patent he had evolved for a moving picture machine.

The second volume was called "The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm; Or, Queer Happenings While Taking Rural Plays." In that book was told how the acquaintance was made of Sandy Apgar, who ran a farm in New Jersey. As Mr. Pertell was looking for some country scenes to use in connection with his moving picture dramas, he took his entire company out to Oak Farm, hiring it from the Apgars.

A curious mystery was solved by the girls, and other members of the company—a mystery that involved the happiness of the old couple who owned Oak Farm, but were on the verge of losing it.

"The Moving Picture Girls Snowbound; Or, The Proof on the Film," was the title of the third book. As its name indicates, the girls and other members of the company were really snowbound. After the summer at Oak Farm, and the fall spent in New York, Mr. Pertell decided to make some dramas in the backwoods of New England, where there was much snow and ice. And for a time there was almost too much snow, for Elk Lodge, where the company of players was housed, was almost buried by a blizzard.

Before going to the backwoods, Mr. DeVere had been much annoyed, and alarmed, by an unjust demand, and how a certain illegal suit against an electric car company was called off, through a discovery made by Ruth and Alice, you may read of in the book.

Russ got "the proof on the film" and when this moving picture was shown privately it caused Dan Merley's lawyer to say:

"You win! We are beaten!" And Mr. DeVere was at ease after that.

Many beautiful films were made at Elk Lodge, and some wonderful pictures of snow and ice scenes resulted from the trip to the backwoods. Then the company returned to New York, and now we find them en route for Florida, when the accident to Mr. Towne occurred.

Mr. DeVere and his two daughters lived in the Fenmore Apartment house, in New York City. Across the hall lived Mrs. Sarah Dalwood, and her sons, Russ and Billy, the latter aged about twelve. The Dalwoods and the DeVeres became very friendly, and Russ thought there never was a girl like Ruth. Paul Ardite, the younger leading man of the Comet Film Company, thought the same thing of Alice.

Frank Pertell was the manager and chief owner of the film company. He had a large studio in New York, where all indoor scenes of the plays were enacted, and where the films were made for rental to the various chains of moving picture theaters throughout the country.

He engaged many actors and actresses, but only the principal ones with whom the stories are concerned will be recounted.

Wellington Bunn and Pepper Sneed were the ones who made the most trouble for the manager. Mr. Bunn was an former Shakespearean actor. With his tall hat and frock coat—which costume he was seldom without—Mr. Bunn was a typical tragedian of the old school.

Mr. Sneed was different. He had no particular ambition toward stardom, but he disliked hard work, and he was rather superstitious. Then, too, he was always looking for trouble and often finding it. In short, he was the "grouch" of the company.

Mrs. Margaret Maguire was a motherly member of the troupe. She played "old woman" parts with real feeling, perhaps the more so as her two grandchildren, Tommy and Nellie, were dependent upon her. The youngsters usually went with the company, and were taken on the Florida trip. Occasionally they acted small parts.

Carl Switzer was the German comedian, and was a first-rate actor in his line. His jollity proved an offset to the gloom of Mr. Sneed.

Pop Snooks, the efficient property man, has already been mentioned. His work was easier when the company was on the road, as there the natural scenery was depended on to a great extent.

Pearl Pennington and Laura Dixon were former vaudeville actresses who had gone into the "movies." Some said it was because they failed to longer draw on the stage. Whether or not this was so, it was certain that the two had very large ideas of their own abilities. They cared little for Ruth and Alice, and the latter had few interests in common with Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon. Paul Ardite has been mentioned. With the exception of Mr. Towne the players had been associated together for some time.

But, just at present Mr. Towne was "disassociated" from the others.

"Oh, can you see him?" cried Ruth, as she clung to Alice. "I—I can't bear to look!"

"Of course I can see him!" Alice returned. "He's trying to swim. Oh, he has grabbed the life ring!"

"That will keep him up," spoke Paul. "Are they lowering the boat?"

"There she goes!" cried Russ. "Ha! I've got an idea. I'll film this, and Mr. Pertell may be able to use it in some drama."

He hurried to where he had set down the small moving picture camera, and while the boat was being lowered by the sailors Russ got views of that.

Then he moved closer to the rail, and took more views as the small craft was sent away under the force of the sturdy arms of the rowers.

"This will be great!" Russ cried.

"Oh, but it seems so cold-blooded!" murmured Ruth. "To take a picture of a drowning man."

"I don't think he is drowning," Paul observed. "He has the ring, and that will keep him up until the boat reaches him. They are almost to him, and he seems able to swim well."

"That's good," declared Alice. She had not turned her head away as had her sister. In fact, in spite of being two years younger than Ruth, Alice often showed more spirit. She was of an impulsive nature, and Mr. DeVere used to say she was very like her dead mother. Ruth was tall and fair, and of a romantic nature. Alice was more practical.

"There! They've got him!" cried Paul, as the boat came up to the actor in the water.

"That's good!" sighed Ruth. "Oh, I was so alarmed. I think I will go below, Alice, when they bring him on deck."

"You don't need to," said her sister. "He's probably all right, except that his fine clothes are spoiled."

"That's so!" chuckled Russ, who was industriously grinding away at the handle of the camera.

CHAPTER III

A DISQUIETING ITEM

"Man the falls!"

This order was given by one of the officers as the boat containing the rescued actor came close to the ship's side. The sailors stood ready to hoist the boat to the davits again, when the tackle blocks should have been made fast by the hooks to the ring bolts at bow and stern.

"Best chance I ever had to get a rescue picture," remarked Russ, as he reeled away at the film.

The young operator even managed to get in a favorable position, and take views as the blocks were being made fast to the boat. Then, as it was hoisted up, he pictured that.

"Is he all right?" asked Mr. Pertell of the sailors in the boat, when the craft was raised to the level of the rail.

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the steersman. "Only a bit wet."

But Mr. Towne was more than a bit wet. He was completely soaked, and a more bedraggled-looking specimen of humanity would be hard to find.

"Oh, the poor man!" exclaimed Ruth, who had thought better of her determination to go below.

"It's his own fault," snapped Miss Pennington. "He should not have carried on so."

"Well, it was partly our fault," interposed Miss Dixon, who was perhaps more just. "We were laughing with him."

"Don't go too close!" cautioned Miss Pennington, as she saw her friend advancing toward the group of sailors, and others who surrounded the rescue party. They were helping Mr. Towne out of the boat.

"Why shouldn't I go close?" Laura wanted to know.

"You might get your dress wet. Mine spots terribly."

"Oh, so does mine. I forgot; and sea water stains so badly!"

So the two actresses drew away.

"There, I guess that will do," remarked Russ, as he saw that there was no more film left in the camera. "Now, Mr. Pertell, you'll have to get some story written around these scenes. Add more to them, and you'll have a good reel."

"I'll do it, Russ. I'm glad you were here to take them, so long as it did not turn out seriously."

"Do you—er—ah—mean to say that you filmed me?" demanded the dudish actor, who had overheard this colloquy.

"I got some pictures of you—yes," admitted Russ. "I couldn't resist the temptation."

"I demand that those pictures be destroyed!" cried Mr. Towne, who seemed to have recovered rapidly from his unexpected bath.

"What for?" asked Mr. Pertell, in surprise. "I haven't seen them, of course—can't until they're developed, and that won't be for some time. But I should say the rescue pictures would make a fine film."

"But I want it burned up. I won't have it shown!" insisted Mr. Towne.

"Why not?"

"Do you suppose for one instant—er, ah—that I am going to let the public see me like this?" and Mr. Towne glanced at his wet and dripping garments—garments that, but a short time ago, had been a walking testimonial of the tailor's art. Now they were wet and misshapen.

"Why, you can't expect a man who has just been rescued from New York Bay to look as though he came out of a band-box; can you, dear man?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Of course you look wet—the public will expect to see you wet—dripping with water, in fact. Water always comes out well in the movies, anyhow. Of course the public wants to see you wet!"

"But I don't want them to!" protested the actor. "I have never been shown in pictures except when I was well dressed, and I do not propose to begin now. I will pose for you as soon as I get dry clothes on, but not in—these!" and he made a despairing motion toward his ruined garments.

"Oh, you are too fussy!" laughed Mr. Pertell. "Those pictures will have to go. The scene was too good to spoil, as long as you were not drowned."

"I was in no danger of drowning," returned Mr. Towne, coldly. "I am a good swimmer. I was taken by surprise, that is all."

"Well, it made good pictures," declared the manager, indifferently.

"Too bad I couldn't get you just as you went overboard!" sighed Russ. "I was taken by surprise, too; but I did the best I could. We can have you do that part over."

"Never!" cried Mr. Towne, angrily. "I will never be seen in an undignified position again, nor in clothes that have not been freshly pressed," and he stalked away toward his stateroom.

"I can sympathize with you, my dear fellow," murmured Mr. Bunn, who was as careful of his dignity, in a way, as was the other. "They have made me do the most idiotic things in some of the dramas," the older man went on. "I have had to play fireman, and ride in donkey carts, slide down hill and all such foolishness—all to the great detriment of my dignity."

"Yes, this moving picture business is horrid," agreed Mr. Towne, who was dripping water at every step. "But what is a chap to do? I tried the other sort of drama—on the stage, you know; but I did not seem to have the temperament for it."

"Ah, would that I were back again, treading the boards in my beloved Shakespeare, instead of in this miserable moving picture acting," sighed the tragedian.

The excitement caused by the mishap to Mr. Towne soon subsided. The steamer got on her way again, once the small boat had been hoisted up, and several tugs and motor craft that had gathered to give aid, if needed, went on their courses.

"Well, that's something for a start," remarked Alice, as she walked the deck with Ruth.

"Yes, I knew something would happen," spoke Mr. Sneed, gloomily. "I felt it coming."

"How could you?" asked Paul, winking at Russ.

"Because to-day is Friday. Something always happens on Friday."

"Yes, we generally have fish for dinner," remarked Russ, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You may laugh," sneered the gloomy actor, "but the day is not over yet. I am sure that something else will happen. The ship may sink before it gets to Florida."

"Oh!" cried Ruth.

"Don't be silly!" laughed Alice, while Russ gave Mr. Sneed a meaning look and remarked in a low voice:

"That's enough of such talk, old man. It gets on the girls' nerves. Why can't you be cheerful?"

"I never am—on Friday," grumbled Mr. Sneed.

"No, and on very few other days," commented Russ, as he went below to take the film out of his camera in readiness to ship it back to New York for development.

Ruth and Alice had done much traveling with their father when he was engaged in the legitimate drama, for he was with a number of road companies, that went from place to place. Water journeys were, however, rather a novelty to them, and now that the excitement of the rescue was over they went about the ship, looking at the various sights.

The Tarsus was not a big vessel, but it was a new and substantial craft engaged in the coast trade. A fairly large passenger list was carried and, as this was the winter season, many tourists were heading for the sunny South—the warm beaches of the coast, or the interior where the palms waved their graceful branches in the orange-scented breezes.

"How is your throat, Daddy?" asked Ruth, as Mr. DeVere joined his daughters in a stroll about the deck.

"Much better, I think," he said. His voice was always hoarse now, totally unlike the vibrant tones in which he was used to speak his lines. "The pain seems less. I have hopes that the warm air of Florida may improve, and even cure it, in connection with the medicine I am taking."

"Oh, wouldn't that be just great!" cried Alice, as she clasped her arms about his neck. "Perhaps you could go back to the real theaters then, Daddy."

"I might," he replied with a smile at her; "but I do not know that I would. I am beginning to like this silent 'drama.' It is a rest from the hard work we old actors used to have to do. There is much less strain. And if I went back to the legitimate, I would have to take you with me," he added.

"Never, Daddy!" cried the younger girl. "I am going to remain with the 'movies'! I would be lost without them."

"Assuredly, they have been a great blessing to us," observed Ruth, quietly. "I do not know what we would have done without them, when you were stricken the second time," and she looked fondly at her father. She thought of the dark days, not so far back, when troubles seemed multiplying, when there was no money, and when debts pressed. Now all seemed sunshine.

"Yes, it would be a poor return to the movies, to desert them after all they did for us," agreed Mr. DeVere. "That is, as long as they care for us—those audiences who sit in the dark and watch us play our little parts on the lighted canvas. A queer proceeding—very queer.

"I little dreamed when I first took up the profession immortalized by Shakespeare, that I would be playing to persons whom I could not see. But it is certainly a wonderful advance."

Down the bay, out through the Narrows and so on out to sea passed the Tarsus, carrying the moving picture players. The day was cold, and a storm threatened, but soon the frigid winter of the North would be left behind. This was a comforting thought to all, though Alice declared that she liked cold weather best.

Mr. Towne came up on deck, again faultlessly attired. His unexpected bath had not harmed him, in spite of the fact that it was cold, for he had at once taken warm drinks, and been put to bed, for a time, in hot blankets.

He could talk of nothing, however, save the fact that he was to be shown in the wet clothing he so despised.

"It is a shame!" he declared. "If I could find that film I would destroy it myself."

"It is safely put away," laughed Russ.

The day passed, and evening came. On through the darkness forged the Tarsus, while about her were the flashing beams from lighthouses, or the bobbing signal lamps from other ships.

Ruth and Alice were in their stateroom, talking together before retiring. Alice had that day's paper and was idly glancing over it. She yawned sleepily, when an item suddenly caught her eye.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "That must be dreadful!"

"What is it?" asked Ruth, who was letting down her long hair.

"Why here's an item from some place in Florida. It says that two girls went out in a motor boat, to gather specimens of rare swamp flowers, and have not been heard of since. It is feared they may have been upset and drowned, or that alligators attacked them. Oh, how dreadful!"

"Don't let Mr. Sneed hear about that," cautioned Ruth. "Where in Florida was it?"

"The item is dated from Winterhaven, but it says that the girls started from some place near Lake Kissimmee."

"Oh!" cried Ruth, pausing with the comb half way through a thick strand of hair, "suppose it should be those two girls we met?"

"I don't imagine it could be," reasoned Alice. "They did not look like girls who would be bold enough to go off after swamp blooms. But think of the poor girls, whoever they are, out all alone at night, with maybe alligators around their boat! Oh, I hope we don't have to go too far into the wilds."

"We may," remarked Ruth, uneasily, as she reached for the paper to read for herself the disquieting item.

CHAPTER IV

FIRE ON BOARD

Ruth sat for some moments in silence after she had read in the paper the short account of the missing girls. She had come to a pause in arranging her luxuriant hair for the night and, with it only half combed, leaned back in the small chair the stateroom afforded. Alice was reclining on her berth.

"Does it worry you, Ruth?" the younger girl finally asked.

"A little, yes." Ruth was unusually quiet, and there was a far-away look in her deep blue eyes.

"Oh, don't take it so seriously," rallied Alice, in her vivacious way, though at first she, too, had been affected by what she read.

"But it is serious."

"Oh, it may be only one of those 'newspaper yarns,' as Russ calls them."

"Alice, your language, of late—"

"There, sister mine! Please don't scold—or lecture. I'm too sleepy," and she finished with a yawn that showed all her white, even teeth.

"I'm not scolding, my dear, but you know I must look after you in a way, and—"

"Look after yourself, my dear. With your hair down that way, and that sweet and innocent look on your face, and in your eyes—you are much more in need of looking after than I. Someone is sure to fall in love with you, and then—"

"Alice, if you—"

"Don't throw that hair brush at me!" and the younger girl covered herself with a quilt, in simulated fear. "I—I didn't mean it. I'll be good!" and she shook with laughter.

Ruth could not but smile, though the serious look did not leave her face. She was very like her father. The least little matter out of the ordinary affected him, and usually on the sad, instead of on the "glad" side. He, like Ruth, was of a romantic type, inclined to anticipate too much. Alice was more matter of fact, not to say frivolous, though she could be very sensible at times.

"Well, I suppose we must go to bed," sighed Ruth at length. "But I'm afraid I sha'n't sleep."

"On account of thinking of those girls?"

"Yes, just imagine them out all alone in some dismal swamp, perhaps, without a light, hungry—afraid of every sound—"

"Please stop! You're getting on my nerves."

"I didn't mean to, my dear," was the gentle answer.

"I know you didn't, and it was mean of me to talk that way," and a plump, bare arm stole around the other's neck, while a hand was run through the golden hair. "But, don't let's think so much about them. Perhaps they are not those two girls we met, after all."

"Oh, I don't believe they can be," Ruth agreed. "That would be too much of a coincidence. But they are two girls—"

"Not necessarily. Maybe it's only an unfounded rumor. Russ says newspaper men often 'plant' a story like this off in some obscure place, and then use it as the basis for one of those lurid stories in the Sunday supplements.

"I shouldn't wonder a bit but what this was one of those cases. So, sister mine, go to sleep in peace, and in the morning you'll have forgotten all about it. Only don't let's tell any one, for some of the company, like Mr. Sneed, might make trouble for Mr. Pertell, saying alligators were there."

"Well, there are."

"Perhaps. But who cares? I'd like to get one ordinary-sized 'gator."

"Why, Alice! What for?"

"I've always wanted an alligator bag, and I never could afford it. Now's my chance. But we may never get far enough into the interior for that. By the way, where did it say those girls started from? I didn't half read it."

"From Sycamore, near Lake Kissimmee."

"Well, Mr. Pertell did mention that we might get to the lake, but he didn't specify Sycamore."

"No, and now I'm going to try and do as you said, and forget all about it," and Ruth laid aside the paper and resumed putting up her hair for the night.

"I wonder what will happen to-morrow?" mused Alice, as she slipped into her robe, and thrust her feet into bath slippers.

"What do you mean?" Ruth's voice was rather muffled, for her hair was over her face now.

"I mean Mr. Towne fell in to-day, and—"

"Gracious, I hope you don't infer that it's someone else's turn to-morrow!"

"Hardly!" laughed Alice. "Hand me that cold cream, please, the salt air has chapped my face. Oh, say, did you notice how much color Laura had on to-day? If ever there was a 'hand-made' complexion hers was!"

"You shouldn't say such things!"

"Why not? When they're true! And such eyes as she made at poor Mr. Towne!"

Ruth slipped a rosy palm over her sister's lips, but Alice pulled it away, and laughingly added:

"She found that her glances failed to reach Paul, and so she's trying her 'wireless' on—"

"Alice, you must stop. Someone may hear you!"

"Can't! Daddy has the stateroom on one side, and Mr. Pertell the other, and they're both sound sleepers. But I've finished anyhow. You put out the light," and with a bound, having completed her toilette, Alice was in her berth.

Ruth sighed, and then sat again staring off into space. It must have been some little time, too, for when she turned to look at her sister, Alice was breathing deeply in sleep.

"Dear Alice!" murmured Ruth, and she bent over her for a moment, and kissed her lightly on the cheek—as gently as the fall of a rose petal. Soon the older sister, too, was asleep.

In order that there might be no trouble among the members of the moving picture company over the statement made in the newspaper that perhaps the two girls had fallen victims to alligators, Ruth, next morning, carefully cut out the item, and put it away among her things.

"It may be silly," she said to Alice, "but—"

"It is silly to imagine anything like that," was the quick retort.

"But it's best to be on the safe side," finished Ruth, gently. "Mr. Sneed is so peculiar."

"I agree with you there, sister mine. Well, you've taken the precautions, anyhow. My, I'm hungry! I hope breakfast is ready."

"You are not troubled with mal-de-mer, then?"

"Not a bit of it, and I never was out on the ocean before. It isn't a bit rough; is it?"

"Well, we did roll some during the night, but then the sea is calm. Wait until we get a storm."

"I do hope one comes!"

"Alice DeVere!"

"Well, I mean just a little one, with waves like little hills, instead mountains."

The only members of the film company who did not present themselves at the breakfast table were Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon.

They breakfasted in their staterooms, but it was noticed that the trays came out about as well filled as they went in, from which it might be gathered that they were not altogether free from the toll the sea exacts from most travelers.

"My, how charming you look!" observed Paul to Alice as he joined her on deck, and arranged her steamer chair out of the wind. She had on a new jacket, and a little toque, the brown fur of which matched her eyes, and brought out, in contrast, the damask of her cheeks.

"Thank you," she laughed in retort. "I might say the same of you. That's a good-looking coat."

"A little different from the usual, yes. The man said it was imported—"

"Just as if that made it any better."

"It doesn't—only different. Where did you get that rug? It's an odd pattern."

"My! But the compliments are flying this morning. It's one daddy picked up somewhere. Isn't the weather glorious?"

"Now we're on a safe topic," laughed Paul. "Here come Russ and Ruth. My, but she's stunning!"

"I'm glad you appreciate her," Alice said. Really, Ruth made a picture, for she had on a long white cloak, and with a turban trimmed with ermine, and her fair hair and blue eyes, she looked like some Siberian princess, if they have princesses there, and I suppose they must.

The four young people chatted and laughed together, while the Tarsus plowed on her way. It was a day of idleness, save that Russ took a few pictures of scenes on shipboard for future use.

In the afternoon, while Ruth and Alice were reclining luxuriously in their steamer chairs, they observed one of the officers come up from below, and run toward the bridge. There was something in his manner that startled Alice, and she sat up suddenly, exclaiming:

"I hope nothing has happened!"

"Happened? Why should it? What do you mean?" asked Ruth. But immediately a look of fear came into her own eyes—a look born of suggestion merely.

"Oh, I don't know," and Alice tried to laugh, but it did not ring true. "It was just a notion—"

She did not finish, for another officer came on the run from forward, and he, too, sought the bridge. Then the two girls saw curling up from one of the hatchways on the lower forward deck, a little wisp of smoke, and immediately afterward there sounded through the ship the clanging of bells.

"What's that?" cried Ruth, casting aside her rug, and struggling to her feet, no easy matter from a steamer chair. "What's that?"

"Some alarm," said Alice, faintly.

Paul came running toward them.

"Oh, what is it?" gasped Ruth, impulsively clasping him by the arm.

"Don't be frightened," said Paul, but Alice noticed that his lips trembled a little. "It's only a—fire drill."

As he spoke there was an outpouring of sailors from many places, and lines of hose were reeled out.

The wisp of smoke from the forward hatchway had increased now, though the hatch cover was on.

Up on the bridge the girls could see the captain leaving his post in charge of one of the officers. The ship, too, seemed to be turning about.

"Are you sure it is only fire—drill?" asked Alice.

"Why, that's what a sailor told me," answered Paul, slowly.

"Look," said Alice, and she pointed to the curling smoke.

More clanging bells resounded, and more lines of hose were run out. There was no doubt, now, that the Tarsus was making a complete turn.

Then, as the captain and one officer left the bridge there rang out the cry:

"Fire! Fire! The ship's on fire! Lower the boats!"

CHAPTER V

DISABLED

Panics start so easily, especially at the mere mention of the word "fire," that it is no wonder there was at once an incipient one aboard the Tarsus. But the captain, who was a veteran, acted promptly and efficiently.