"I'll go with you," volunteered Russ. "We'll have to make the last bit of this scene over," he went on, to Mr. Pertell.

"Yes, I suppose so," agreed the manager.

"And they'll want a little time to get over the scare so they can pose properly," went on Russ, nodding at Alice and Paul, who, as well as the others who filled in the background of the picture, were somewhat disturbed.

"Yes, it will be just as well to take a breathing s.p.a.ce," said Mr.

Pertell. "But don't run into danger, Russ. We've got lots of plays yet to film."

"I won't," laughed the young operator, and as he went off after Sandy, Ruth gazed after him with rather anxious eyes.

"I knew something like this would happen!" exclaimed Mr. Sneed, gloomily. "That track thirteen----"

"Say, if you don't drop that you can look for another place!" cried the manager, sharply. "Everything that happens you blame on that silly superst.i.tion."

"And things aren't done happening yet, either," went on the "grouchy"

actor, but he took care not to let the manager hear him.

"To what low estate have I fallen!" soliloquized Wellington Bunn, wiping his heated brow. He was wearing a slouch hat, instead of his beloved silk one, and was attired in shabby garments, as befitted his character of a farmhand. "The idea of a man who has played the immortal Shakespearean characters falling so low as to consort with wild bulls. Ah, it is pitiful--pitiful!" he murmured.

"You didn't consort mit dat bull very much!" put in Mr. Switzer, with a cheerful laugh. "I saw you trying to git behint a corn stalk, to consort mit 'im alretty yet!"

"Certainly, I did not wish to be trampled on," replied Mr. Bunn, with dignity--that is, with as much dignity as he could muster under the circ.u.mstances. "Oh, to what low estate have I fallen! A mere country b.u.mpkin--I, who once played Hamlet!"

The others were recovering their spirits, now that the danger was over. Sandy and Russ followed the trail of the bull through the corn, and soon they had him before the gate of his own enclosure.

"That gate is open!" exclaimed the young farmer. "I don't see how it happened. There is something wrong here."

The bull was driven in, and then an examination disclosed the fact that the lock of the gate had been broken; by a stone, evidently, for a shattered rock lay on the ground nearby.

"This is strange," murmured Sandy. "Someone has done this on purpose, I don't like it--after what happened the other night."

"What was that?" asked Russ.

"Why, Mr. Pertell and I saw a suspicious-looking man out in the road, and we chased him," and he told of the circ.u.mstance.

"And you think he broke this lock to let the bull out?" asked the moving picture operator.

"Well, he might have, but I can't think what his object would be, unless he wanted to spoil some of your moving pictures. Have you got any enemies?"

Russ thought of Simp Wolley and Bud Briskett, who had tried to get his invention, as told in the preceding volume, "The Moving Picture Girls," but they were in jail, as far as he knew. Clearly there was some mystery here, but it was not to be solved at once.

The gate was made as secure as possible, and Sandy said he would get a new lock that day.

"I reckon you folks don't want old Nero b.u.t.tin' in on you again," he said to Russ.

"Indeed we don't!" answered the young operator. He was puzzled over Sandy's suggestion as to whether or not some enemy had loosed the dangerous animal.

A little later the end of the interrupted scene was filmed again, and then the actors and actresses were at liberty for the rest of the day.

"I declare, Laura!" exclaimed Miss Pennington, "I'm so nervous about that bull that I don't want any more farm plays."

"Me, either," returned her chum. "But really, the summer is a bad time to change. I think we'll have to stay with Mr. Pertell; but I can't bear this company since those DeVere girls came in."

"Nor can I. They give themselves such airs!"

Which was manifestly unfair to Ruth and Alice, but neither Miss Pennington nor Miss Dixon was over-burdened with fairness.

At first Russ had an idea of speaking to Mr. DeVere about Sandy's theory concerning who might have let loose the bull; but, on second thoughts, he decided not to. The actor had not been so well of late, his voice troubling him considerably, though he managed to go through his parts with credit.

"I'd tell Ruth or Alice," reflected Russ, "only I don't like to bother them. They helped me save my patent, and they know how to do things in an emergency. But I guess I'll wait."

For the next day Mr. Pertell had planned a little drama which gave Mr. Bunn a chance to appear in his favorite roles--some Shakespearean characters. The plot, or at least the first part of it, had to do with Mr. Bunn coming up to the farmhouse in a frock coat, and his favorite tall hat. He was to a.s.sume the character of a theatrical man, who, after obtaining board at a country home, fell in love with the daughter of the house through teaching her some roles from Shakespeare's plays, several characters of which Mr. Bunn himself was to a.s.sume.

All was ready for the first part of the play, and Russ began filming the initial scene, where the actor comes up the gravel walk leading to the Apgar farmhouse. Mr. Bunn had given his silk hat an extra brushing, and it glistened bravely in the sun. To make the scene contain a little more life, Mr. Pertell had stationed Mr. Switzer at one of the front flower beds, with a garden hose to spray the blooms.

Up the walk came the actor, grave and dignified. Russ was grinding away at the handle of the moving picture camera.

Suddenly a dog wormed his way in under the hedge from the road, and, probably meaning no mischief, ran for Mr. Switzer, barking joyously, and leaping about.

"Hi dere! Look out, you! Don't you nip my legs!" cried the German. He sprang to one side, and, naturally, forgot all about the spurting hose he held.

In an instant the stream was directed full at Mr. Bunn, deluging him with water, which descended in a shower on his precious silk hat, the drops falling from the brim copiously.

"Here! What--what do you mean? You--you----" began the Shakespearean actor, and then his words were m.u.f.fled, for the stream from the hose struck him full in the mouth!

CHAPTER VIII

IN THE OLD BARN

"Quick, Russ! Get that!" cried Mr. Pertell, with a laugh. "Don't miss a single motion."

"Do you mean it?" cried the astonished operator. He had ceased, for a moment, to grind on the handle, for he supposed the scene was spoiled.

"Surely I mean it!" cried the manager. "I'll change this and make a comic film of it. Go on, Switzer. Soak him some more! Use that hose for all its worth!"

"Vot! You means dot I vet him all ofer?"

"Certainly I do. Wet him well!"

"I--I protest! I shall not permit----" began Wellington Bunn, but again he was silenced by the volume of water in his mouth. He waved his arms about wildly. He took off his silk hat, probably intending to protect it, but Mr. Switzer had now fully entered into the spirit of the affair, and sent a stream into the hat, filling it as he would a pail.

"Oh, this is awful! This is terrible! I must protest----"

Swish! went the water into his mouth again, and his protest was silenced.