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A few more strokes of the pump handles, a few more gallons of water, and the fire, which had quickly attacked all parts of the cottage at once, died out. "There!" cried Abe Haskill, the old fisherman-chief. "We saved your building for ye, Mr. Ringold. Ain't no use in buyin' a shack an' then havin' it burn down no matter if it ain't wuth much.
When you left Padden's place you went to Maxim's and listened to the fat quartette, then to the place where the waiter held out a dollar. After the trouble at that point, you tried to get into Tony's rathskeller and couldn't, so you started for the East Side. Ringold was very drunk. Good! Everything is clear so far.
"So what's the matter with getting back up on the cliff as soon as we can, and seeing if we can trace those fellows. You know we've had some experience after taking films of those Indians, and can follow signs pretty well." "I'm with you, Blake!" cried Joe. "We'll do it. I guess Mr. Ringold will let us off when he knows how important it is."
"Do you want that in the picture?" asked Joe, who was at one of the cameras. "No indeed!" cried Mr. Ringold. "It won't fit in at all! He must drift ashore. We'll have to do all this over again." "I can see Gloomy doing it," murmured Blake. At that moment there came a hail from the comedian. "Hello!" he cried. "Are you going to gulp let me glub sink out here?
"You youngsters will have to look out for yourselves before long," said Tom Ringold, the boat-steerer, who had acted the part of Neptune. "We shall be having old Harry Cane aboard here, and he's a precious deal more difficult to tackle than Daddy Neptune, who paid us a visit on the line." "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
Ringold, after a day or two spent in getting the actors and actresses familiar with their parts. "We'll do the business to-morrow morning." Accordingly, they all assembled at the shack, and went through the various acts leading up to the fire scene. The boys ground away industriously at the handles of the moving picture cameras. All went well until it came time to set the fire.
Under the direction of the assistants of Mr. Ringold, while Mr. Hadley looked on critically, the Confederates took their positions in and about the old house. They rehearsed the merry-making scenes and Miss Lee and Miss Shay took the parts of the daughters of the Union sympathizer. The two girls, being actresses of some experience, did very well, and the extra people evidently improved, for Mr.
"Why, naturally, C. C." "Then I serve notice here and now that I resign. I'm tired of being an actor. I'm going into the coal business," and he stopped making odd faces in the glass, practicing some facial contortions for a new clown act, and began to dress as though to go out. "Hold on, C. C.; what's the matter?" asked Mr. Ringold. "Plenty!
"What the devil " Then the dead weight in his arms, the lolling head and sagging jaw of the stranger, sobered him like a deluge of ice-water. "You've done it this time," he muttered. "Good God!" Locke cried. "Let's get away! He's hurt!" "Here, you!" Anthony shot a command at the speaker that checked him half-way across the room. "Ringold, take the door and don't let anybody in or out."
Another, and what might have proved a far more serious matter, occurred. Tom Ringold was steering, when a sea striking the rudder with tremendous force knocked him over the wheel, carrying away several of the brass spokes as it flew round, and sent him against the bulwarks.
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