Sandy explained how faithful and devoted a colony of bees is to their queen, which is the bee that lays eggs out of which are hatched drones, or male bees, and the workers. There is a peculiar kind of honey called "queen bread," and sometimes, it is said by some, when a queen bee dies, the workers will select a "cell" containing an egg that will eventually hatch, and surround this egg with queen bread so that when the insect develops enough, it can feed on that instead of on ordinary honey.

This is said to change the character of the insect and make a queen of it to replace the one that has died. Or, if this is not done the queenless colony may merge with another that has a queen.

In order to prevent the hatching of too many queens the bee keeper will examine his hives frequently, and cut out all the "queen cells," thus preventing them from hatching and so causing the bees to swarm frequently.

They all watched while the men shook the cluster of bees into the new hive, and carried them away, Russ, meanwhile getting a fine film of the operation. Later this film was shown with much success in New York, so that, after all, the interruption of the school scene had a happy outcome. Later the little play was finished.

"Whew!" exclaimed Paul, when it was all over. "That was some going on, all right!"

"Does your sting hurt much?" asked Alice, solicitously.

"I think it would be better for some ammonia," he replied.

"I'll put some on for you when we get back to the house," she offered, "and some witch hazel, too."

"It feels better already—just with the thought of that," he answered gallantly.



CHAPTER XX

THAT MAN

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, we will now get ready for our big play," announced Manager Pertell to his company of actors and actresses one morning. "It will be the biggest farm drama we have yet attempted. One scene will include the burning of the barn, and the rescue of one of you ladies from the structure."

"Not any of that for mine," remarked Miss Pennington, pertly. "I'm not going to run any chances in a burning building."

"There won't be any chances," returned Mr. Pertell, quietly. "I will have everything arranged in advance so that there will be no danger. That is why I want to start in plenty of time. We will have a number of rehearsals. I am going to have part of the roof of the barn cut away before we start the fire."

"What for?" asked Russ.

"So there will be no danger of anyone getting caught in the burning structure. The cut-out section can be placed back again, after it is sawed, or chopped out, and it will not show in the picture. But it will be a measure of safety. Now, Russ, you come out with me and we'll figure on the best position to get the pictures, and the best part of the roof to cut away."

"Who's going to be rescued?" asked Miss Dixon. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather not be one of those characters."

"You won't be," replied Mr. Pertell, with a laugh. "I have cast Alice and Ruth for that. There'll be a double rescue scene."

"Oh, I don't know that I can do it very well," said Ruth, quickly, though she did not say she was afraid.

"You can do it all right," declared Mr. Pertell, confidently. "In fact, you won't have to do anything, except allow yourself to be carried down a ladder. You see, you and your sister will pretend to be caught in the burning barn. The only way to get you out is through the roof.

"Paul Ardite, as a farmer's son, goes up a ladder and chops a hole in the roof. But the roof will be sawed away beforehand. You see, I want no delay with you inside the burning structure. Then Paul carries you down the ladder, and Mr. Sneed will rescue Alice.

"That will be fine!" cried Alice, in her lively manner. "I've always wanted to be carried down a ladder. You won't mind; will you, Daddy?" and she appealed to Mr. DeVere.

"Oh, I guess not, if the ladder is good and firm," he replied in his husky voice.

"That's just the point; it won't be!" predicted Mr. Sneed in his usually gloomy manner. "It's bound to break!"

"Comforting; isn't he?" laughed Alice. "I'm not afraid, Mr. Sneed."

"No, but I am," he went on. "I don't want that part, Mr. Pertell."

"You'll have to take it," said the manager, decidedly. "I have no other one I can cast for the part."

"Can't you give it to Mr. Bunn?" asked the "grouch."

"Eh? What's that? Me carry someone from a burning building? Not much!" exclaimed the tragic actor. "I resign right now."

"Well, I must say neither of you is very gallant," laughed Alice. "Paul, I guess you'll have to rescue both of us!"

"I'd be pleased to do it!" he retorted, gaily.

"Oh, I suppose I can manage it," grumbled Mr. Sneed, fairly shamed into taking the part.

"Good!" exclaimed the manager. "Mr. Bunn, you will be one of the fire-fighters in the bucket brigade. You'll help pass the buckets of water along to put out the fire."

"What? I become a country fireman?" demanded the tall-hatted actor.

"Certainly."

"I refuse! I will take no such part. I cannot lower myself to it."

"Very well," said Mr. Pertell, calmly. "You may resign, but you know what it means—no more engagements."

"Oh, give me the screed," returned the actor, petulantly. "I'll do it!"

Preparations for the rural play went on apace. The barn-burning scene was only one of many, though it was the climax. Rehearsals began and Russ and Mr. Pertell decided on the barn incidents and the place where the roof was to be cut.

A carpenter had been engaged to do this properly, so that it would not show in the moving picture that the roof had been fixed in advance.

In order to have the big play a success Mr. Pertell allowed the players to rehearse leisurely and at considerable length. There was plenty of rest for all. On one afternoon Paul and Russ, when there was nothing to do, paid another visit to the cabin in the woods, to see if there were any signs of the mysterious man. But he was not there, nor was there any evidence that he had returned to the place. Nor had he been seen about the farm since. He and his dog, if it was his, seemed to have disappeared.

The summer was now passing, and the character of work on the farm changed with the advancing season. Threshing time came, and several good films were obtained of the men at work at the big machine which went from farm to farm to thresh the grain.

Mr. Pertell built a little play about the work, the principal scene in one being where the threshers were at work, and afterward they were shown at dinner in the open air. And such appetites as those men had! A number of Mrs. Apgar's neighbors came over to help her cook, as is usually the case when the threshers come, so altogether some good films were obtained of this phase of rural life.

Getting in the hay was another occasion for making some interesting pictures, and Alice, as she had longed to do, was allowed to ride in on one of the big loads. Afterward, when it was put into the barns she jumped into the soft and fragrant pile of the mow, and was filmed that way, the scene to be used in one of the many rural dramas.

In fact, all sorts of scenes about the farm were caught on the films, to be used later as plays should develop. The farm animals, too, made up some of the pictures, and the mule which ran away with Mr. Bunn was used for some comic pictures. Mr. Pertell, however, did not ask anyone to ride him, as he wanted no accidents. In fact, it is doubtful if he could have gotten any of his company to try this, even through fear of discharge.

"We'll have a rehearsal of the barn-burning scene to-day," announced Mr. Pertell one morning. "It has gone off pretty well so far, and if there is no hitch to-day we'll film it to-morrow and get the real picture. Everybody ready, now."

"Are we to be carried down the ladders?" asked Ruth, for the former rehearsals had not included this.

"I think so," answered the manager. "The carpenter promised to be here to cut the roof, too, so we may be able to go through the whole scene just as we will in the play. Russ, you come out and watch, and select the best places for your camera, so there will be no hitch to-morrow."

"I hope that ladder will be good and strong," remarked Mr. Sneed. "I wouldn't want it to break with me on it."

"Nor would I," laughed Alice. "Still, that might make a funny picture for you, Mr. Pertell."

"Oh, Alice!" chided Ruth.

"The ladder is all right—it's a new one," said Paul. "I've seen it, and given it a trial. It would even hold Pop Snooks, and he's our heavy-weight."

"I made that ladder myself," said the property man.

"I hope it isn't like the imitation fence you made once, that came down with Mr. Switzer," said Ruth.

"Ach, himmel! I hopes not!" exclaimed the German actor. "Dot voult be too bad. It vos bad unough to fall on der fence, but a latter—ach!"

"Don't worry," said Pop. "The ladder will hold an elephant. I have tried it a dozen times."

The moving picture players were gathered about the barn, and the preliminary scenes were rehearsed. The carpenter had come and as soon as he had made the cut in the roof, the more important parts of the play would be gone through with.

The ladder had been tested and found to be perfectly secure, so that any little fear Mr. De Vere may have had for the safety of his daughters was dispelled.

"Well, now we're ready for the main scene, I think," said Mr. Pertell. "Carpenter, you can get busy while we take a rest."

As Ruth and Alice, with Paul and Russ, were walking off toward a little clump of trees, to sit down in the shade, Alice, glancing across the fields, saw a figure that caused her to cry out:

"That man! That lame man! There he is!"

"And this time he doesn't get away from us!" cried Paul, as he darted toward the mysterious stranger.



CHAPTER XXI

A CHASE

The unknown interloper pursued his usual tactics. That is, he turned and fled as soon as he saw Paul coming toward him. And he went surprisingly fast for a lame man. Alice was the first to notice this.

"Look!" she cried. "That man limps hardly at all now."

"That's so," agreed Ruth. "Perhaps he only did that as a disguise."

"Excuse me!" called Russ. "I've got to get in on this chase," and he left the two girls, and ran after Paul, who had started ahead of him.

"Oh, please be careful!" cried Ruth, nervously.

"Does that mean Paul—or Russ?" asked Alice, mischievously.

"Both!" said Ruth, with decision. "That man may be a desperate character."

"He doesn't act so," declared Alice, with a laugh. "See, he is running away."

"Yes, but if the boys catch him he may turn on them—and he may—he may have a weapon, Alice."

"Don't be silly, Ruth. Paul and Russ are able to look out for themselves. But how fast that man can run!"

The stranger was indeed making good time across the fields, and Russ and Paul did not seem to be catching up to him very fast. He had had a good start.

The other members of the company had gone in a different direction, and as the chase had started behind the old barn, neither Mr. Pertell nor any of the others could see what was taking place.

"What had we better do?" asked Ruth, with much anxiety.

"I don't see that we can do anything," replied Alice. "We certainly can't join in the pursuit."

"No, but we might tell someone—give an alarm," went on Ruth.

"No," decided Alice, after a moment of thought. "I think Russ and Paul can do better alone. We don't know what that man has done, if anything, and perhaps when the boys catch up to him he may be able to offer a perfectly good explanation. Then, in case we had set others after him, it would not be fair to him. Besides, if you think there is danger you oughtn't to want any more to share it."

"That is so," agreed Ruth. "Perhaps it will be better to let them try by themselves."

But Paul and Russ evidently were going to have no easy task in capturing the mysterious man. He was running well now, and limping scarcely at all. Either he had feigned it before, or had, in the meanwhile, recovered from his injury.

The two girls watched the chase until a depression in the fields hid the three from sight.

"We'd better go back," suggested Ruth, after a bit.

"Yes," agreed Alice, "but we won't tell the others what has happened."

As it turned out, however, the girls were not able to carry out this intention. For Mr. Pertell had a new idea in regard to some of the scenes, and wanted to consult with Russ about it.

"Where is he?" the manager asked, coming from the farmhouse with a bundle of papers in his hand, after having called a rest period in the barn-burning rehearsals.

"He's after—that man," replied Alice, hesitatingly, and then she told what had happened.

"That man again!" cried Sandy Apgar, who overheard what was said. "He'll not get away this time. I'm goin' after him on a hoss!"

He hurried to the stable, and leaped on the back of one of the lighter farm animals, not even stopping for a saddle.

"Which way was he headed?" he asked the girls.

Ruth and Alice showed him, and Sandy set off over the fields in a strange cross-country run, with a man-hunt at the end of it.

There was nothing for the company of players to do but await the outcome, while the chase was kept up.

Meanwhile, what of Russ, Paul and the mysterious man?

When Paul turned around, after being on the chase for a little time, and saw Russ coming toward him, he stopped to allow the young moving picture operator to come up to him. For he saw that the pursuit was to be a long one, and the man had such a start of him that a few seconds' delay would make no difference.

On and on over the fields went the stranger, until he was headed down a highway.

"When he gets on that it will be easier going," remarked Russ.

"Yes, for both of us," agreed Paul. "I wonder what in the world his game can be, anyhow?"

"We'll find out—if we ever get him," panted Russ. "Come on! This is going to be 'some run,' as the poets say."

The man gained the highway, and raced along that for some distance. Paul and Russ tried to take a short cut across the field to reach the same road, but they got into a marshy place and sank in, nearly up to their knees.

"He knew this was here!" cried Russ, as he drew himself out of a sticky place.

"He evidently did, and avoided it," agreed his friend. "And we blundered into it—worse luck!"

They had considerable difficulty in reaching the road, and by that time the mysterious man was even further in advance. But they pluckily kept to the chase.

"There he is!" cried Russ, as they came to a turn in the road, and saw a straight stretch before them. "He hasn't gained so very much."

The man was running well, and there seemed to be no return of his lameness.

The neighborhood was a lonely one, and there were no houses in sight. Nor had the young men engaged in the chase met any persons since starting out.

Doggedly they kept on.

"This would make a good picture film!" exclaimed Russ.

"It sure would," agreed Paul. "Only we haven't time to do it. Say, he can run some; can't he?"

"He sure can. Oh, look at that, would you!" cried Russ.

They had now come in sight of a white house, standing back a little from the road. And in front of the house stood an automobile runabout.

What caused Russ to cry out was the sight of the mysterious man leaping into the auto, the engine of which had evidently been left running. In another moment he was off down the road, going at the limit of speed of the machine.

"Well, we might as well give up now," said Paul, coming to a stop. "I'm done up, anyhow."

"Same here," agreed Russ. "That is, unless we can find another auto."

They saw a man run from the farmhouse from in front of which the auto had been so audaciously taken. He was a physician, it appeared.

"The idea! The idea!" he cried. "That perfect stranger ran up and took my auto. Was he a friend of yours?" he asked as Russ and Paul came up. He looked at them suspiciously.

"A friend! No indeed!" exclaimed Paul. "We want to catch him; but we can't do it now."

They heard the sound of hoofbeats in the road behind them, and, turning, they saw Sandy coming along on the farm horse. He had taken a short cut, guessing or hoping that the chase would lead that way.

"Where is he?" cried the young farmer, as he galloped up.

"Gone!" replied Paul.

"In an auto," added Russ.

"My auto," corrected the doctor. "The impertinent chap had the nerve to take my machine, and I need it, too."

"I'll get him!" cried Sandy, as he clapped his heels to the side of his panting horse.

"You can never get him while he's in that machine!" called Paul.

"Maybe the auto will have a break-down!" the young farmer answered over his shoulder. "Such things have happened."

"Indeed they have—to me often enough," remarked the doctor. "I have had more break-downs in that car than I like to remember. But just when we want one, so we may be able to catch that scoundrel, it may not happen."

"If Mr. Sneed was here he'd be sure to cause something to happen," remarked Russ, jokingly. Sandy galloped on down the road after the mysterious man in the automobile he had so daringly taken.



CHAPTER XXII

CAUGHT

There was considerable excitment about Oak Farm when Russ and Paul returned from their unsuccessful chase after the mysterious man, leaving Sandy to continue the hunt. All the players, and a number of the hired men, were discussing the occurrence, and eagerly questioning Ruth and Alice as to what they knew and had seen. This was little enough, however.

When Russ and Paul came up, still breathing hard after their run, they added what they knew.

"Vy shouldn't ve make ourselves yet into a committee und all go after him?" asked Mr. Switzer. "Dot feller ought to be caught."

"That's true enough," agreed Mr. Pertell; "but we're here to make moving pictures, and we can't do it if the whole company chases after that fellow."

"Besides, something might happen," remarked Mr. Sneed, gloomily. "He might have a gun and shoot us."

"Then I'm glad you girls didn't keep on after him," said Mr. DeVere in his hoarse voice. "I wish you would take no further part in this affair, Ruth and Alice," and he spoke earnestly.

"Don't worry, Daddy," laughed Alice. "I'm sure, after all, that the man isn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt us, that's certain, for he loaned us the use of his cabin, and he was very polite about it."

"He doesn't seem to care about us," added Ruth. "For he runs every time he sees us. Is there anything peculiar about us?"

"Yes," said Russ, "there is."

"What?"

"I'll tell you—some other time," he informed her, and Ruth grew rosy red.

"Well, I suppose we could go on with the barn-burning scene," said Mr. Pertell, when the chase had been discussed in all its phases. "I did want Sandy on hand, though, as representing his father, the owner of the farm, in case anything happens."

"I won't own the farm much longer," said Felix Apgar sadly. "The sale will come off next week, and then I s'pose we'll be turned out bag and baggage, Mother."

"Oh, Pa, I hate to hear you talk that way," she said, as she put her trembling hand in his. The old couple made a pathetic picture as they stood together on the porch of the white house—the house that had been their home so many years, but out of which they were soon to be turned by a cruel shift of fate.

"Cheer up!" said Pop Snooks, who had a leisure hour. "It's always darkest just before dawn, you know. Something may happen to save the farm for you."

"I'm too old to believe in miracles," replied Mr. Apgar, with a shake of his head. "Come on in the house, Mother, and we'll begin to pack. They can't take our things from us, anyhow, though where we'll go the Lord only knows."

"Why, you won't have to move out, even after the mortgage was foreclosed," said Alice, as she slipped her arm about the waist of the trembling old lady. "I heard the sheriff say you could stay on for some time yet."

"I know, dearie, but it wouldn't be our farm, and Pa and me wouldn't feel like stayin' when Squire Bladsell owns it. It would be like livin' on charity. No, we'll go as soon as the sale is over. But you're a dear, good girl to try and help us."

"They have helped us a lot, Mother—all of 'em!" exclaimed Mr. Apgar. "You movin' picture folks have been real kind to us, and the money you paid for the use of the farm come in mighty handy, seein' that some of the crops wasn't over and above good. Yes, we'll never forget you—never."

He and his wife turned into the house, and the hired men went about their tasks.

"I suppose we'll have to wait until Sandy comes back," spoke Mr. Pertell. "I don't want to set the barn afire until he's here. For, not only do I want him on hand, as I said, to represent his father, but I'm depending on him to lead his men, and some of the others, in an attempt to put out the fire. I want plenty of action in this scene. So we'll wait."

"I wonder what has happened to him?" mused Ruth. But no one knew.

The carpenter Mr. Pertell had hired to cut away part of the roof asked if he should set about his task.

"No, I think we'll wait until Sandy comes back," replied the manager. "You can get all ready, though. Russ, I suppose your camera is in shape?"

"Oh, yes. In fact I've got two—one for emergencies."

"That's good. Plenty of film on hand?"

"All we'll need, I think."

"Well, then, the only thing to do is to wait."

Meanwhile Sandy was keeping on after the daring and mysterious fugitive. Fortunately for the young farmer his horse was a comparatively fleet one, or he would have lost sight of the auto soon after the strange race began. As it was he managed to keep the doctor's car in sight for a considerable distance.

And then, so suddenly that it seemed like a trick of fate, something occurred which completely turned the tables in favor of Sandy. The fleeing man in the auto found himself behind a load of hay, that occupied a considerable part of the road. Sandy was close enough to hear the frantic tooting of the horn, but either the driver of the hay wagon did not hear, or he had a constitutional objection to autoists, for he did not pull out.

Thus the strange man was obliged to turn to one side and, unluckily for him, but luckily for Sandy, there was a roadside ditch at that point. Into this the wheels of the auto went and as it was sticky and soft the car came to such a sudden stop that the man was pitched out over the glass wind-shield, landing in the ditch.

"Now I've got you!" cried Sandy, and clapping his heels to the sides of his panting horse the young farmer rode up alongside the prostrate man.

"I've got you! Surrender!" commanded the young farmer, leaping down, and grabbing the man, who was now sitting up a dazed look on his face. "I've got you, and I arrest you in th' name of th' law!"

"Yes, I see you've got me," replied the man, slowly. "But on what charge do you arrest me?"

Sandy was puzzled for a moment, and scratched his head. He had not thought of this.

"You have no right to arrest me," the man went on. "I have done nothing to you."

"I don't know whether you have or not," Sandy said. "I think you've been tryin' to, but couldn't do it. I'm suspicious of you. That's it—I arrest you on suspicion!"

"That's no charge," cried the man, struggling to his feet and trying to break away. But Sandy held him firmly. "Besides, you are not an officer, and have no warrant."

"I don't need any!" cried Sandy, who had that point clear enough in his mind. "Any citizen of the United States can make an arrest if he wants to, and I'm a citizen. So I arrest you, whatever your name is, on suspicion."

"Suspicion of what?"

Again Sandy was puzzled.

"I don't just know," he confessed. "I'll leave that to Squire Blasdell. He's th' law-court around here—and he's a hard one, too. I'll take you afore him. So come along. You've been trespassin' on our place, anyhow, and I can make that a charge if I can't any other. Come along."

Sandy was young, strong and vigorous, and the man, though almost his equal, was tired out from his long run before he had taken to the auto. Besides he was badly jolted up by the sudden and unceremonious manner in which he left the car.

"All right, I s'pose I've got to come," the man admitted in a sullen manner.

"You'd better," observed Sandy, grimly. "And there's another charge, too. You took th' doctor's automobile."

To this the man answered nothing. He probably knew that this was a serious enough charge on which to hold him.

"We'll jest go back in th' car, too," went on Sandy, "since you know how to run 'em. But, mind you! No monkey tricks! Don't you try to run away with me."

"All right—get in," said the man, shortly. "I'll see if I can get her out of the ditch. You wouldn't have gotten me if that man with the hay had given me my share of the road."

"Maybe not," admitted Sandy, grimly, "but I have got you, jest th' same. Come on."

Sandy left his horse cropping the grass at the roadside, and got into the auto with his prisoner. After a few attempts, the machine was gotten out of the ditch, and the start back was begun. Sandy saw a farmer whom he knew, and asked him if he would bring the horse back to Oak Farm.

"And now we'll 'tend to your case," the young farmer remarked to the man in the auto. "I don't believe you told me what your name was," he added significantly.

"No, I didn't, and I don't intend to," snapped the stranger. "You can find out any way you like."

"Oh, we'll find out, all right," Sandy returned. "Drive on."

The man did not speak as he drove the car forward. They reached the house where the physician had been, and found him waiting; a very angry medical man indeed.

"So you got him; eh?" he called to Sandy.

"That's what I did. And I'd like to borrow your car to take him to jail, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind a bit, and I'll go along to lodge a charge against him. There's a state law against anyone taking another person's automobile without permission. Who is he, anyhow, Sandy?"

"I don't know, and he won't tell."

The man maintained a sullen silence during the remainder of the trip, and when the office of Squire Blasdell was reached he was led inside by Sandy.

"I've got a prisoner here for you, Squire," announced the young farmer. "I don't know what his name is, and I don't exactly know what charge we can make against him. But he's been hanging around Oak Farm for some time, and he runs whenever anyone comes near him, and if that ain't suspicion I don't know what is."

"You're right there, Sandy," said the squire, who, in spite of the fact that he was about to foreclose on Oak Farm, was not on bad terms with the Apgars. The truth of the matter was that the squire only acted as agent for others whose money he put out on mortgages. Personally he was sorry for the Apgars.

"Now then, Mister whatever-your-name-is," began the squire, "what about you?"

"I'll tell you nothing," said the man. "You have no right to hold me."

"He took my auto," broke in the doctor.

"Then we'll hold him on that charge, and we'll call him John Doe," decided the squire. "Maybe he'll change his tune after a bit. Lock him up," he ordered the constable in charge, and the mysterious man, as mysterious as ever, was led away.

"I'd like to ask one favor," he declared, halting a minute.

"You can ask, but I don't know as we'll grant it," spoke the squire.

"I've left a dog up in the old cabin," the man went on. "I guess you know the place," he said to Sandy. "It's the cabin where the girls took shelter from the rain. There's a dog tied there and he might starve to death. I wish you'd feed him."

"I'll do that," responded Sandy, quickly. "I'll look after him, too. He's entitled to some consideration, even if you ain't."

The man said nothing.

"Is it your dog?" asked the squire.

"I—I found him," answered the man, hesitatingly, "and he likes me. I wouldn't want to see him starve."

"He shan't!" promised Sandy.

Then, as the queer character was locked up, Sandy started back for Oak Farm, puzzling over the mysterious man and his object.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE MONEY BOX

"What did he say?"

"Who was he?"

"What was his object?"

These, and a dozen other questions like them, were showered on Sandy Apgar when he arrived at the farm, some little time later, after having seen the mysterious man safely locked up in the town jail.

"Now there's no use askin' me who he is, or what he wants," declared the young farmer. "All I know is that I caught him. He won't talk."

"You did a good piece of work," declared Mr. Pertell, "and a day or so of jail food may make the fellow change his mind. Well, it's too late to do any moving pictures to-day. We'll put off the barn-burning until to-morrow."

"Well, there's one thing we can't put off until to-morrow and that is looking after that dog," remarked Sandy. "The poor fellow may be frantic by now."

"May we go with you?" asked Alice.

"Surely," answered Sandy.

"Come along, Ruth—and anybody else who wants to," she added.

"Count me in!" exclaimed Paul.

"The same here," laughed Russ.

So the five set off for the lonely cabin.

"I can't understand how the dog came to be there, though," mused Russ, as they walked on through the woods. "That fellow wasn't at the cabin the last time we looked."

"But that was several days ago," Paul reminded him. "He may have been staying there ever since, thinking we had given up going there. That's very likely it."

And this proved to be the case. The man had apparently moved back into the cabin. The room was arranged about as it had been the day the girls took shelter in the place, but there was this change—that a fine collie dog was chained near the big fireplace.

And if ever a dog was glad to see anyone it was that same collie. He jumped about, barking joyfully, but was held back by a strong chain, fastened to his collar.

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Sandy kindly, and the dog wagged his tail in friendly greeting.

"Oh, I wish we could keep him!" exclaimed Alice, who loved animals.

"I guess we'll have to—until that feller gits out of jail," spoke the young farmer. "They won't allow no animals in the lockup. We'll take him to the farm."

The dog made friends at once, and seemed particularly fond of Alice. She was patting him, when she happened to turn his collar around. A brass plate came into view and as the girl read something on it she uttered a cry of surprise.

"Look!" she exclaimed. "This is the lost dog!"

"What lost dog?" asked Russ.

"Don't you remember—the one Mrs. Delamont lost when we were in the wreck, coming up here. See, there is his name—Rex III. We have found him for her. How glad she will be!"

"You're right!" exclaimed Paul, after examining the collar. "Here are the initials 'H. A. D.' Weren't those hers?" he asked of Ruth.

"Yes, I have her name and address," replied the girl. "We must send her word at once."

"I don't understand how the man got the dog," observed Russ.

"He might have been at the scene of the wreck, and when he saw the chance he slipped into the baggage car and took Rex," explained Paul. "I suppose he'll tell about that, if he ever confesses. It's a queer business all around."

The fine dog seemed to like his new friends, and skipped and frisked about them as they went back to Oak Farm. And there the dog made his home, though it would not be for long, since Mrs. Delamont would be sure to send for her prize pet when she learned where he was.

"Oh, but I shall hate to let you go!" cried Alice, as she put her arms about the neck of Rex.

"Well, I hope there won't be no more interruptions or delays," remarked Mr. Pertell the next day. "We must get that barn-burning film sure, for I have some other plans to carry out, with winter coming on."

"You don't mean to say you're going to keep on in this moving picture business all winter, do you?" asked Mr. Sneed.

"I certainly do," remarked the manager.

"Well, all I've got to say is that we'll freeze to death," went on the "grouch" in gloomy tones. "You can count me out of it," he added. "I'm not going to freeze for anybody."

"No one asked you to," replied the manager. "Come now, everyone get ready for the fire scene. We'll go over it once more, to be sure we're all right for the final. The roof will be cut and then we'll touch off the place.

"Sandy, see to it that there are plenty of pails of water for the bucket brigade. Mr. Bunn, you're to be one of that crowd, you remember."

"Yes," responded the actor, with a heavy sigh. "I suppose I must lower my art to the level of the movies. Oh, why did I ever get into this wretched business?"

Ruth, Alice and the others went out to the old barn. All was in readiness for the big scene. The ladder for the rescue of the moving picture girls was in readiness, and Paul and Mr. Sneed made sure that it was safe.

"Now then, carpenter, up on the roof with you, and cut out that section so there won't be any doubt but what it will come loose readily when Paul chops at it with his axe," ordered the manager.

The carpenter began his work. He ascended to the roof by the ladder, and was soon cutting and sawing away. The others watched him, half idly, little prepared for the dramatic scene that was to follow. Mr. and Mrs. Apgar had come out to witness the making of the fire film.

"I'll sort of hate to see the old barn go, useless as it is," said the farmer. "It was one of the first buildin's on the farm, and Uncle Isaac used to be terrible fond of stayin' out here. In fact before he died he spent a lot of time out here after th' accident, sittin' all by himself, and sometimes talking a lot of nonsense. His mind was goin' then, I reckon, only none of us knowed it. Yes, poor Uncle Isaac was terrible fond of this old barn, and I sure will hate to see it go up in smoke."

"I wish Uncle Isaac had been fonder of business, an' had left some word where his money went—and ours, too," observed Sandy. "I don't want to blame him for what he couldn't help, but it sure is hard for us!"

The carpenter was chopping away, taking off a section of the roof, to afford easy egress for Ruth and Alice when the time should come. Suddenly he uttered a cry of surprise.

"What's the matter—cut yourself?" called Sandy.

"No, but I've cut into something queer. Better come up here and see what it is—I don't want to touch it."

"I hope it isn't a hornet's nest!" exclaimed Sandy.

"No, it isn't that."

The others wondered what the queer find might be, as Sandy and Russ hurried up the ladder.

As they reached the roof, which at this point was nearly flat, they saw that the carpenter, in taking off a section, had uncovered what proved to be a small secret room. It was built into the barn in such a manner, between false walls, that its existence had never in the past been suspected.

It was a small place, just large enough to contain a table and a chair, and there were no openings or windows on the sides. It must have been a dark place, but there was an old lantern on the table, showing that the occupant, whoever he had been, was not left in the gloom.

But there was something else on the table besides the lantern. This was a large tin box, the sort that valuable papers are usually kept in, and at the sight of it, as Sandy gazed down into the secret room, through the hole in the roof, the young farmer cried:

"There it is! There's Uncle Isaac's money box! The lost is found, and now, if there's only the money and papers in it we'll not lose our farm after all! The Lord be praised! If only the money is there!"

"You can soon tell!" remarked Russ. "Drop down in there and take a look."

"What is it? What have you found?" called Mr. Pertell from the ground. "We want to get the pictures."

"Wait a minute!" Sandy begged. "We've found——"

"Wait, don't tell them yet," suggested Russ. "It won't do to raise the hopes of the old people, and then disappoint them. The box may be empty."

"That's right," agreed Sandy. "I'll soon know, though." He hung by his hands to the edge of the opening, and then dropped down into the secret room, so strangely revealed.

"The box is locked!" he cried.

"Here's my hatchet—break it open," suggested the carpenter.

"Guess I might as well—no telling where the key would be," said Sandy. With the hatchet he soon had lifted the cover of the box. Then he gave a joyful cry.

"It's here!" he shouted. "It was Uncle Isaac's box, all right, and the money's here—quite a lot of it, and some valuable papers worth more. Hurray! The farm is saved, after all! Tell pop and mom!"

"No, we'll let you tell them," said Russ. "Come and tell them yourself."

"How'm I goin' t' git up?" asked Sandy, trembling with excitement and new hope, as he fingered the dusty bills that would mean so much to him and his parents.

"Here's a rope," suggested the carpenter, for he had been using one at his work. "We'll drop it down to you, and you can tie it to the box. Then you can come up on the rope yourself."

This was soon done, and a little later Sandy was standing beside his aged parents, showing them the find.

"It's money—real money!" he cried. "The money Uncle Isaac owes us. Now we can pay off the mortgage on the farm. You won't have t' move off th' farm!—Pop—Mom! You can stay here!"

"Praise the Lord!" cried the farmer, reverently. "My prayer has been granted; I can die on the old place!"

"Why, Pa, don't talk about dyin' now!" protested Mrs. Apgar, through her tears. "We're goin' t' live—live on th' old place!"

"That's what we be!" he cried.

A close examination of the contents of the box disclosed the fact that it contained considerable wealth. There were some bonds and stocks, as well as a large sum in cash. At least five thousand dollars of this belonged to the Apgars, representing the loan they had made to Uncle Isaac. And as he left no other heirs, eventually the entire wealth would come to the farmer.

"This has been a lucky day for us!" exclaimed Sandy, as he put the wealth in a secure place in the house.

"Well, it will be an unlucky one for us, if we don't get this fire film," remarked Mr. Pertell, half humorously.

"Just so," returned Russ.

There was much discussion over the find, and then an examination was made of the secret room. From within the sliding panel door, by which entrance was gained, could easily be seen. But outside, it was so well hidden that it is doubtful if anyone but one who knew the trick could have found it.

Mr. Apgar recalled that the barn stood on the farm when he had purchased the estate years before. It had belonged to an eccentric man, and there was little doubt that he had built the secret room for his own use—though what it was could only be guessed.

"And Uncle Isaac must have discovered the hidden door when he was out here in the barn so much," said Sandy. "Lunatics are cunning, sometimes, I've heard. He probably found th' place and kept it to himself, as a good place to hide his valuables.

"That's why he spent so much time out here. I used to wonder sometimes, at having him appear from inside the old barn, when I never suspected he was on hand. He was in this room, all right."

"It certainly was a good hiding place," agreed Mr. Pertell. "It was lucky he did not shut himself up and die in here, or you would never have known where to look for him. He must have left his money box here one day, closed the place up and then came his unfortunate loss of mind, after he was hurt. He forgot all about where he had left the wealth, and of course he couldn't tell anyone. Well, I'm glad you've got it back."

"So am I!" chuckled Sandy. "Now if we only had some explanation as to why that queer chap was always hanging about this farm we'd be all right."

"Maybe he knew your Uncle Isaac," suggested Ruth.

"No, that man's a stranger around here," declared Sandy.

After some little further talk about the queer find, Mr. Pertell again suggested that the taking of the picture be resumed.

Sandy seemed to hang back and the manager asked him:

"Do you want to give up your part in it, now that you have your money again? Don't you want the barn burned?"

"Oh, yes; it ain't that!" the young farmer hastened to assure the manager. "It's a good thing we didn't burn the barn before we found the money. I was only wishin' I could send word of it to Squire Blasdell, so he could call off the foreclosure. I hate to see them signs up."

"Then you go and tell him the good news," suggested the manager, generously. "We've had so many delays on this thing that a little more won't hurt. Go tell the squire."

So Sandy went off, and the players had an unexpected rest.



CHAPTER XXIV

EXPLANATIONS

Sandy found Squire Blasdell having an interview with the strange prisoner.

"I'm putting him on the grill, and trying to find out something about him, but it's hard work," the Squire said to the young farmer.

"Yes, you might as well save your time," spoke the man. "I'll tell you nothing!"

"I've got news for you, Squire," said Sandy, a little later when the constable had been called in to take the stranger back to his cell.

"Looks like good news, by your face, Sandy," the lawyer replied. "You haven't been finding money for the mortgage; have you?"

"That's just what I have, Squire!" Sandy cried. "We just found Uncle Isaac's money box!"

"You did! 'Gosh all Hemlock' as the boys used to say. How was it?"

"We found the money box—with a lot of cash and papers in a secret room in the old barn we're goin' to burn for movin' pictures. We found the money box, all right."

There was a sound from the room where the prisoner sat. He started to his feet, and stepped to the grating which separated the cell from the apartment in which Sandy and the Squire were.

"You say you found Isaac Apgar's hidden wealth?" he asked.

"Yes—but what is that to you?" inquired the Squire.

"A lot to me. The game is up now, and I'll confess everything. I've been keeping still, hoping I could get out and find that box myself. That's what my object has been in hanging around your farm," he went on. "I was looking for that box myself. I—I thought maybe I might get a reward if I located it."

This statement might be doubtful, but there was no way of disproving it. The man might have been hoping only for a reward; but, on the other hand, if he had found the wealth he might have kept it all for himself.

"How did you come to know about this?" asked Squire Blasdell, curiously. "Did you ever know Isaac Apgar?"

"Well, I don't know as you could exactly call it 'knowing' him," was the slow answer, "seeing that he didn't know anybody himself, of late years. I may as well tell you the whole story. My name is Monk Freck, and I used to be a keeper in the state lunatic asylum where Isaac Apgar was confined. That's how I knew him. I was his keeper!"

This was strange and startling news, but it explained many things.

"Go on," urged the Squire. "What about looking for his money?"

"That's it," added Sandy.

"I'll come to that. Though few folks knew it, Mr. Apgar had some lucid moments during his insanity. He was as right as anyone at times, but maybe only for a half hour or so at a stretch. And it was in those times that he'd talk about the wealth he had hidden.

"I tried to get him to tell me just where it was, for I had heard rumors that he had hidden quite a pile before he went crazy. But he was either too cunning to tell me, or his mind failed him at the critical moment. All I could learn was that it was hidden somewhere about the corner of the old barn on the Apgar place.

"Well, he kept on getting worse until he died, and I made up my mind to have a try for the money box. I gave up my job in the asylum, and came here. And since then I've been looking around, trying to make the discovery, and claim a reward.

"I spent a good deal of time in the barn, but I never thought there could be a secret room. I thought it might be buried somewhere around the place. I didn't have much chance to hunt, though, after the moving picture people got here," he added.

"And was it you who made the queer noises in the barn, and scared the girls?" asked Sandy.

"It was. I didn't mean to scare 'em, though. I was trying to crawl up between two beams one day, when I slipped and fell. I rattled some loose boards where I had lifted some up to have a place to hide. I hurt myself, too, and I guess I groaned. The fall made me lame for a while."

"That accounts for your limp," said Sandy. "How did you come to go to the cabin?"

"Oh, I wanted some place to stay near your barn, and as no one used the cabin, I took up my quarters there. Before that I often used to sleep in a secret place in your old barn. But I didn't mean any harm. Of course I didn't want it known who I was, for if it was learned that I had been Mr. Apgar's keeper in the asylum everybody would have guessed my object. So I ran whenever I saw anybody from Oak Farm. But you finally caught me. I'm not sorry, for I was getting tired of the game. And so you found the hidden box? Well, I wish it could have been me."

"Did you steal that dog, too?' asked Sandy.

"No, I did not. I found him wandering about and took a notion to him. I guess maybe he had been stolen, but I didn't do it. If I had known who he belonged to I might have got a reward from them."

"The owner is known," Sandy said, "and she may reward you. I feel so happy that I don't wish anybody bad luck. Now Squire, I suppose the foreclosure is off; ain't it? I've got more than the four thousand dollars."

"The old farm is safe, Sandy," the Squire answered, "and I'm glad of it, for your sake. You may have thought me hard and grasping, but I had to do the business for my clients. Now we'll have to decide what to do with this man. I reckon we can let him go, seeing that he didn't really do anything except take the auto, and I guess the doctor won't press that charge."

This proved to be the case, and that day Monk Freck was released. Mrs. Delamont was to over-joyed to get her dog back that she gave Freck a substantial reward, for the former asylum keeper had been kind to Rex III, and insisted that he had found him after the dog had gotten away from the real thief.



CHAPTER XXV

THE FIRE FILM

"All ready now, Russ!"

"All ready, Mr. Pertell."

"Then start off. Be ready with the torch there, Sandy, and touch off the pile of hay and straw inside the barn when I give the word. Then come out for the bucket brigade."

"Yes, sir."

It was the day after the finding of the money box, for there had been so much excitement attending that episode, that Mr. Pertell thought it wise to postpone the fire scene. But now all was in readiness for it.

"All ready now!" called the manager, and the play began. There were several preliminary scenes before the final one of the burning barn, and these were successfully run off, Russ filming them one after the other.

There was no hitch, so well had the play been rehearsed. Now came the time when Ruth and Alice were to take refuge in the barn, the action being supposed to occur after a chase when they wished to escape from a rascally guardian.

The firing of the barn (in the play) was supposed to be done by an enemy of the farmer, and was not done to entrap the girls, of whose presence the incendiary supposedly knew nothing.

But the girls were locked in the barn when the fire broke out, and necessarily must be rescued.

"Touch her off!" cried the manager at the proper point, and Sandy set fire to a pile of hay and straw inside the barn. This would make considerable smoke, and smoke always shows up well in moving pictures.

"Get ready with the water now!" called Mr. Pertell. "I want a lively bucket brigade scene here!"

Sandy and his force, of whom Wellington Bunn was one, ran back and forth from the water barrel, carrying the filled buckets and splashing the contents on the flames.

The fire was now at its height.

"All ready for the rescue!" ordered the manager. "Up with the ladder and get after the girls, Paul. Mr. Sneed, you're in on this."

Up the ladder climbed Paul, and with an axe he began chopping away at the roof. This was the place prepared beforehand, and Ruth and Alice were to be drawn up through the hole that went down into the secret room where the money box had been found.

"Quick!" cried Paul, as he made the splinters fly. This was only for the effect, as the section on the roof was all ready to come away. "Hurry up, Sneed!" called the young fellow. "It's getting pretty hot here. We'll have to follow each other closely down the ladder."

"We can't get away from here any too soon for me," the other answered. "This is the worst yet."

In another moment the secret room was exposed. Ruth and Alice were in it, a little afraid, after all, that something might happen.

"Come on!" cried Paul reaching down his hands. Alice climbed up on a chair in the room, and Paul lifted her out on the roof. Then Mr. Sneed did the same for Ruth.

Putting the girls over their shoulders, in the manner in which firemen make rescues, the two started down the ladder.

In spite of Mr. Sneed's fear, nothing happened. The rescue went off finely, and even those not taking part in it applauded as it came to a close and Ruth and Alice, who were supposed to have fainted, were revived.

Then their parts ended, for that particular scene, but the barn continued to burn, as was intended, and soon it was a glowing heap of embers and ashes. The work of the bucket brigade had not been successful, nor had it been intended that it should be.

The final scenes of the play—away from the fire—were made, and then the players could rest.

"I hope it's a success," said the manager, with a sigh. "We have worked hard enough over it."

And a few days later word came back from New York, whither the film had been sent, that it was a great success, and one of the best dramas the Comet Company had ever put over. The scenes where Alice and Ruth were rescued were particularly fine.

* * * * *

"Well, I wonder what sort of 'stunts' we'll have to do next, Ruth?" remarked Alice as they were in their room in the old farm house one morning, about a week after the barn fire.

"There is no telling," was the answer. "Mr. Pertell has some plans, but I don't believe they are ready yet."

"Yes they are, my dears!" exclaimed Mr. DeVere, as he entered the room. "We have just received word that the entire company will spend some months in the backwoods, getting pictures of winter scenes."

"Oh, the woods in winter!" cried Alice. "I'll just love that; won't you, Ruth?"

"I think I shall. But I do hope we won't have so much excitement as we've had here."

Whether they did or did not may be learned by reading the next volume of this series, to be called: "The Moving Picture Girls Snowbound; Or, the Proof on the Film."

Happy days followed at Oak Farm, for after the hard work of the season Mr. Pertell decided to give his company a little vacation. And the Apgars were happy, too, for the foreclosure proceedings were stopped by the satisfying of the mortgage with Uncle Isaac's money.

Mrs. Delamont sent on for Rex III, and Alice bade the fine animal good-bye rather sadly, for she had grown very fond of him.

"Come on," said Paul to her one day, "we'll take a walk, and maybe we can find another dog."

"Not like Rex, though," laughed Alice, as she set off with the young fellow. And now, for a time, we will take leave of the Moving Picture Girls.

THE END



THE JANICE DAY SERIES

By HELEN BEECHER LONG

12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket

A series of books for girls which have been uniformly successful. Janice Day is a character that will live long in juvenile fiction. Every volume is full of inspiration. There is an abundance of humor, quaint situations, and worth-while effort, and likewise plenty of plot and mystery.

An ideal series for girls from nine to sixteen.

JANICE DAY, THE YOUNG HOMEMAKER JANICE DAY AT POKETOWN THE TESTING OF JANICE DAY HOW JANICE DAY WON THE MISSION OF JANICE DAY



THE NAN SHERWOOD SERIES

By Annie Roe Carr

12 mo, cloth, illustrated, and colored jacket

In Annie Roe Carr we have found a young woman of wide experience among girls—in schoolroom, in camp and while traveling. She knows girls of to-day thoroughly—their likes and dislikes—and knows that they demand almost as much action as do the boys. And she knows humor—good, clean fun and plenty of it.

NAN SHERWOOD AT PINE CAMP or The Old Lumberman's Secret

NAN SHERWOOD AT LAKEVIEW HALL or The Mystery of the Haunted Boathouse

NAN SHERWOOD'S WINTER HOLIDAYS or Rescuing the Runaways

NAN SHERWOOD AT ROSE RANCH or The Old Mexican's Treasure

NAN SHERWOOD AT PALM BEACH or Strange Adventures Among the Orange Groves

THE END