CHAPTER XXIII
REALITY
Ruth Fielding was not a coward. She had already talked so much aboutDakota Joe that she was a little ashamed to bring up the subject again.So she made no comment upon the man in the brown coat and gray hat thatJennie Stone declared she had seen climbing the path up the canyon wall.
Mr. Hammond was not annoyed by it. His mind was fixed upon the scenesthat could be filmed in the canyon. Like Jim Hooley, the director, histhought was almost altogether taken up with the making of Ruth's"Brighteyes."
The work of making the picture was almost concluded. Wonota, the Indianmaid, had lost none of her interest in the tasks set her; but sheexpressed herself to Ruth as being glad that there was little more todo.
"I do not like some things I have to do," she confessed. "It is so hardto look, as Mr. Hooley tells me to, at that hero of yours, MissFielding, as though I admired him."
"Mr. Grand? You do not like him?"
"I could never love him," said the Indian girl with confidence. "He istoo silly. Even when we are about to engage in one of the most thrillingscenes, he looks first in the handglass to see if his hair is partedright."
Ruth could not fail to be amused. But she said cautiously:
"But think how he would look to the audience if his hair was tousledwhen it was supposed to be well brushed."
"Ah, it is not a manly task," said Wonota, with disgust. "And the Indianman who is the villain--Tut! He is only half Indian. And he tries tolook both as though he admired me and hated the white man. It makes hiseyes go this way!" and Wonota crossed her eyes until Ruth had to cryout.
"Don't!" she begged, "Suppose you suffered that deformity?"
"But he doesn't--that Jack Onehorse. Your Brighteyes, I am sure, wouldhave felt no pity for such an Indian."
"You don't have to feel pity for him," laughed Ruth. "You know, youshoot him in the end, Wonota."
"Most certainly," agreed Wonota, closing her lips firmly. "He deservesshooting."
The calm way in which the Indian girl spoke of this taking off of theIndian lover who became the villain in the end of the moving picture,rather shocked the young author.
"But," said Jennie, "Wonota it only a single generation removed fromarrant savagery. She calls a spade a spade. You shouldn't blame her. Itis civilization--which is after all a sort of make-believe--that causesus white folk to refer to a spade as an agricultural implement."
But Ruth would not laugh. She had become so much interested in Wonota bythis time that she wished her to improve her opportunities and learn theways--the better ways, at least--of white people.
Mr. Hammond naturally looked at the commercial end of Wonota'simprovement. Nor did Ruth overlook the chance the Osage maid had ofbecoming a money-earning star in the moving picture firmament. But shedesired to help the girl to something better than mere money.
Wonota responded to a marked degree to Ruth's efforts. She was naturallyrefined. The Indian is not by nature coarse and crude. He is merelydifferent from the whites. Wonota seemed to select for herself, when shehad the opportunity, the better things obtainable--the better customsof the whites rather than the ruder ones.
Meanwhile the work of preparing for the scenes of "Brighteyes" to beshot in the canyon went on. The day came when all the company wereinformed that the morrow would see the work begun. At daybreak, after ahasty breakfast, the motors and vans and the cavalcade of riders leftthe Clearwater station for a week--and that the last week of theirstay--up in the lovely canyon Ruth and her two girl chums had found.
"I do declare!" exclaimed the gay Jennie (even the lack of letters fromHenri Marchand could not quench her spirits for long), "this bunch oftourists does look like an old-time emigrant train. We might befollowing the Santa Fe Trail, all so merrily."
"Only there were no motor-cars in those old days," remarked Ruth.
"Nor portable stoves," put in Helen with a smile.
"And I am quite sure," suggested Mr. Hammond, who heard this, "that nomoving picture cameras went along with the old Santa Fe Trailers."
"Yet," said Ruth thoughtfully, "the country about here, at any rate, isjust about as wild as it was in those old days. And perhaps some of thepeople are quite as savage as they were in the old days. Oh, dear!"
"Who are you worrying about? William?" asked Helen slyly. "He did soundsavage this morning when he was harnessing those mules to the bigwagon."
But her chum did not reply to this pleasantry. She really had somethingon her mind which bothered her. But she did not explain the cause of heranxiety to the others, even after the arrival of the party in thecanyon.
It looked like a great Gypsy camp when the party was settled on thesward beside the mountain stream. Mr. Hooley had not seen the locationbefore, and he was somewhat critical of some points. But finally headmitted that, unless the place had been built for their need, theycould not really expect to find a location better fitted.
"And thank goodness!" Ruth sighed, when the camera points were severallydecided upon, "after these shots are taken we can head East for good."
"Why, Ruthie! I thought we were having a dandy time," exclaimed Helen."Have you lost your old love for the wild and open places?"
"I certainly will be glad to see a porcelain bathtub again," yawnedJennie, breaking in. "I don't really feel as though a sponge-down in anicy cold brook with a tarpaulin around one for a bath-house isaltogether the height of luxury."
"It is out here," laughed Helen.
"I do not mind the inconveniences so much," said Ruth reflectively. "Theold Red Mill farmhouse was not very conveniently arranged--above stairs,at least--until I had it built over at my own expense, greatly to UncleJabez's opposition. It is not the roughing it. That is good for us Iverily believe. But I have a depressing feeling that before the pictureis done something may happen."
"I should expect it would!" cried Helen, not at all disturbed by theprophecy. Once Helen had prophesied disaster, and it had come. But sheforgot that now. "I expect something to happen--every day, most likely.But of course it will be a pleasant and exciting something. Yes,indeedy!"
Neither of her friends, after all, realized that Ruth Fielding wasactually in fear. She was very anxious every waking moment. That strangeman whom the girls had spied here in the canyon might be a perfectlyharmless person. And then again--
Two days were occupied in placing the paraphernalia and training theactors in their parts. They all got a working knowledge of what wasexpected of them when the picture was being photographed, and theprincipals learned their lines. For nowadays almost as much care isgiven to what is said by actors before the camera as by those havingspeaking parts upon the stage.
The big scene--the really big scene in the drama--was set upon thatoverhanging lip of rock that Ruth had spied when first she, with Helenand Jennie, had ridden up the trail. On that overhanging shelf occurredthe struggle between the white lover of _Brighteyes_ and the Indian whohad trailed him and the girl to this wild spot.
Mr. Grand, in spite of Wonota's scorn of him, was a handsome man andmade as fine an appearance in the out-of-door garments the part calledfor as he did in the dress-suit to which he was so much addicted. TheIndian who played the part of the villain was an excellent actor and hadappeared many times on the silver sheet. He was earnest in his desire toplease the director, but he failed sometimes to "keep in the picture"when he was not actually dominating a scene.
Because of this failing in John Onehorse, Mr. Hooley sent Ruth to thetop of the rock to watch and advise Onehorse as the scene proceeded.
She was quite able by this time to act as assistant director. Indeed, itwas Ruth's ambition to direct a picture of her own in the near future.She sometimes had ideas that conflicted with those of Mr. Hammond andhis directors, and she wished to try her own way to get certainresults.
Now, however, she was to follow Mr. Hooley's instructions exactly.
The arrangement of the cameras were such, both from below and at thelevel of the scene to be shot, t
hat Ruth had to stand upon a narrowshelf quite out of sight of the actors on the overhanging rock, andhidden as well from most of the people below. This, to make sure thatshe was out of the line of the camera.
Behind her the narrow and broken trail led to the top of the canyonwall. It was up this trail that Jennie and Helen had seen the "ManFriday" disappear on the occasion of their first visit to the place.
Patiently, over and over again, Mr. Hooley had the principal characterstry the scene. Below, Wonota, as the heroine, was to run into the camerafield at a certain point in the struggle of the two men on the lip ofrock. To time the Indian girl's entrance was no small task. But at lastthe characters seemed to be about letter perfect.
"Look out now! We're going to shoot it!" shouted Jim Hooley through hismegaphone. "Miss Fielding! Keep your eye on Onehorse. Keep him up to themark while he waits for Mr. Grand's speech. Now! Ready?"
It was at just this moment that Ruth felt something--something hard andpainful--pressing between her shoulder-blades. She shot a glance overher shoulder to see the ugly face of Dakota Joe Fenbrook peering out ather between the walls of a narrow crack in the face of the cliff. Thething he pressed against her was a long stick, and, with a grin ofmenace, he drove that stick more firmly against Ruth's body!
"Ready? Camera! Go!" shouted Mr. Hooley, and the scene was on.
Ruth, with a stifled cry, realized that she was being pushed to the edgeof the steep path. There was a drop of twenty feet and more, and whereshe stood there was no net to break the fall!
If Fenbrook pushed her over the brink of the path Ruth knew very wellthat the outcome would be even too realistic for a moving picture.