“Why, yes, you can,” was the prompt response. “It’s pretty rushing around here when the people get hungry.”
Dave under direction set seven wooden plates and as many paper napkins on the impromptu table. He sliced up two long loaves of bread, carried the cold meat and fruit to the table, and went to a spring nearby to fill a big tin pail with cool, sparkling water.
A young man wearing glasses, and smart looking and brisk, seemed to be the manager. He beckoned Dave and the chauffeur to join the family party. Dave enjoyed the liberal meal immensely. He was interested and entertained with the continuous chatter of the group about him.
“What’s the programme, Mr. Alden?” asked the big fellow who had acted the Indian.
The man addressed took a roll of manuscript out of his pocket. He separated the sheets and passed one around to each of the party.
“There’s your parts,” he said. “Scenario: ‘The Ruined Mill’.”
“I don’t see any mill,” observed the man who had played the hunter, looking up and down the ravine.
“Two miles farther on, according to my directions,” explained the leader of the party, consulting his note book.
Dave was so interested that he planned that he would linger with the group till he had seen how they made a moving picture film. When one of the crowd whom they called Davis moved away from the table and went to the intricate outfit near the wagon, Dave unobtrusively followed him. He was engrossed in watching the process of “loading up” the film reels, when the manager came up.
“See here, Davis,” he said in his jerky, energetic way, “we’ll have to get busy if we expect to cover the programme in daylight.”