"Ugh!" protested Miss Pennington, making a gesture of annoyance.
"I am glat dot ve come here," went on the German. "I haf not hat any sauerkraut—dot is, not any to mention of—since ve left New York."
"Why, I saw you eating some the other day," laughed Paul, as the odor of cooking cabbage became more pronounced from the hotel kitchen.
"Oh, yes, I hat a leetle—yust enough to know der taste of it," agreed the German, with a genial smile. "But I ain't really hat vot you could call a meal of it."
"You're like a man I heard of," said Russ, joining in the talk. "He was a German farmer, I guess, and when his neighbor asked him if he was putting away any sauerkraut that season the German answered: 'No, ve ain't put none down to speak of dis season. Only yust seven or eight barrels in case of sickness!'"
"Goot! Goot! Dot vos a real German!" laughed Mr. Switzer.
There was sauerkraut for supper that night, and the German actor certainly ate enough to ward off any possible illness. And, in spite of the rather homely character of the hotel, the meal was an excellent one, and the moving picture players were more comfortable in the matter of rooms than they had expected. About the only ones to find fault were Miss Pennington, Miss Dixon, and Mr. Sneed. But they would have had some objection to offer in almost any place, so it did not much matter.
Plans were made for taking a train early next morning, to continue on out West, but something occurred to delay matters, though it resulted in the making of an excellent film.
It was just before everyone was ready for breakfast when Ruth, thinking she heard her sister's knock sharply on the door, opened it.
Instead of confronting Alice, Ruth jumped back in terror as she saw a bear standing upright in the hall opposite her door.