The name of this dangerous-looking individual was Sandy Banks, and the girls were later to learn that the only fierce part of Sandy was his appearance. In reality he was the simplest and gentlest of men, always ready to do a service for his fellow men, and an ardent admirer and champion of all women.
When Tom presented him to Ruth and Helen, this gallant cavalier bent low over the hand of each of them, his mustache sweeping upward in a grand and impressive manner.
Helen suppressed a giggle. But Ruth only smiled, for she had seen the simple friendliness in the eyes of this great hulking fellow and knew at once just what type of man he was.
Besides, her mind was working busily along professional lines. This Sandy Banks would contribute excellent local color to her picture if he could be persuaded to act for a day or two as an extra. Ruth stowed this thought away in a corner of her brain to be brought forward again when the time was ripe.
Meanwhile Sandy readily agreed to transport the motion picture company and its paraphernalia to Knockout Inn, where Tom had already telegraphed ahead for reservations.
“You purty nigh scairt Slick Jones into his grave,” said their new acquaintance, with a deep-chested chuckle. “You come near fillin’ up his hull place—which ain’t worryin’ Slick none, since he leaves nigh onto every cent he kin scrape together down to The Big Chance. Well, sir, where do you want them things stowed?”
Tom gave instructions in regard to the trunks and other luggage, but the cameramen decided to carry their precious cameras with them.
“So far from home it ain’t any use taking chances with them, Miss Fielding,” said Schultz, with a grin.
Finding that Knockout Inn was not far from the river front, they all determined to walk, leaving only the luggage to Sandy Banks’ rattling old wagon and dispirited horse.
So they filed along behind this equipage, keeping at a safe distance from the dust flung up by its wheels, quite willing that Sandy should take the lead and that he should proceed as slowly as possible. It was glorious to be on land again after the long ship journey, and every one was in high spirits. Every one, that is, except the dwarf who brought up the rear in a sort of sulky isolation, seeming like a dark blot upon the gayety of the party.