Part 10 (1/2)

”It might be better if he did,” said Ruth, and refused to discuss the point further that evening.

The next day was just as lovely as that first one. Preparations were under way all over the island Mr. Hammond had rented for the making of the picture which Ruth had written. The continuity was being studied by Mr. Hooley, the director; and the princ.i.p.als had been furnished with their detail.

The ordinary partic.i.p.ants in the filming of a picture--the ”extras”--seldom know much about the story. They merely appear in certain scenes and do what they are told. As the scenes are not made in sequence these actors of the smaller parts have little idea of the story itself.

Ruth, under the advice of Mr. Hammond, had chosen a certain series of incidents relating to early French-Canadian history, and it began with an allegory of the bringing of the Christian religion to the Indians by the first French priests. This allegory included the landing of the French upon the sh.o.r.e of a rocky island where they were met by the wondering Indians, and Mr. Hooley's a.s.sistant had chosen the spot for this scene to be ”shot,” not far from the place where the company had its headquarters.

Ruth paid little attention to the locations until the moment arrived for the camera work. In fact, after supplying the detailed script she had little to do with the preparation of the picture until the scenes were made. She had never made continuity, as it is called, for that is more or less of a mechanical process and is sure to interfere with the creative faculty of the screen writer.

In the afternoon of this day Helen engaged a motor-boat, and she and Ruth set out for the Copley island, which was some miles away, toward Alexandria Bay. Caretakers and servants had been at work there for some time, it was evident, for the lawns were neatly shaved, the gardens in full growth, and the family were already comfortably settled in their summer home.

Chess Copley must have been on the watch (could it be possible that he had inside information about this early visit of Helen and Ruth?) for he came running down to the dock before the gardener could reach that point to fasten the boat's line.

”Hurrah!” he shouted. ”I was just wondering if we would see you girls to-day; and if you hadn't come I should have got out our launch and tried to find your camp this evening.”

”Oh, hullo, Chess,” Helen said coolly as she stepped ash.o.r.e, refusing his a.s.sistance. ”Where are the girls?”

”There they are--waiting for you on the porch,” he said, rather subdued it would seem by her bruskness.

Helen started directly for the wide veranda of the villa-like house that topped the higher part of the island. There were several acres of grounds about the Copley house, for the whole island was cultivated to the water's edge. There was nothing wild left in the appearance of the property, save a few of the tall forest trees that had been allowed to stand and some huge boulders almost covered with climbing vines.

Ruth gave Chess her hand--and he squeezed it warmly. She gave him a frank smile, and Chess seemed comforted.

”Nell's dreadfully tart with a fellow,” he grumbled. ”She's nothing like she used to be. But you are kind, Ruth.”

”You should not wear your heart on your sleeve,” she told him briskly, as they followed Helen Cameron toward the veranda.

The two girls from the moving picture camp pa.s.sed a pleasant evening with their New York friends. The Copley girls always managed to gather, Helen declared, ”perfectly splendid house parties;” and they had brought with them several companionable girls and young men.

Music and dancing filled the evening, and it was ten o'clock when the two chums from Cheslow sought their motor-boat and set out for the camp on the Chippewa Bay island. Chess Copley had kept by Ruth's side almost all the evening, and although Helen treated him so cavalierly, she seemed provoked at her chum for paying the young man so much attention.

”I don't understand what you see in Chess,” she said in a vexed tone to the girl of the Red Mill. ”He's nothing much.”

”He is pleasant, and you used to like him,” said Ruth quietly.

”Humph!” Helen tossed her head. ”I found him out. And he's not to be compared with Tommy-boy.”

”I quite agree with you--that is, considering Tom as a brother,” observed Ruth, and after that refused to be led into further discussion regarding Chess Copley.

It was not often that Ruth and Helen had a disagreement. And this was not really of importance. At least, there was no sign of contention between them in the morning.

To tell the truth, there was so much going on, on this day, that the girls could scarcely have found time to quarrel. The sun was bright and the sky cloudless. It was an ideal day for out-of-door ”shots,” and the camera men and Mr. Hooley had the whole company astir betimes.

The few real Indians, besides Wonota and Totantora, in the company, and all those ”extras” who were dressed as aborigines, got into their costumes before breakfast. Soon after eight o'clock the company got away in barges, with launches to tow them through the quiet waterways.

In a costume play like this that had been planned, the partic.i.p.ants naturally make a very brilliant spectacle wherever they appear. But among the islands of Chippewa Bay there were few spectators at this time save the wild fowl.

”And they,” Helen said, ”might be descendants of the very birds who looked on the actual first appearance of the white man in this wilderness. Isn't it wonderful?”