“But how did it happen?” Joe wanted to know.
“He didn’t have time to give me many particulars over the wire. He said he’d do that when he met us in New York.”
“Some of our friends lost in the flood,” murmured Joe. “I wonder if there’s a chance of saving them?”
“We’ve got to try, anyhow,” spoke Blake, seriously.
“Was C. C. among them?” Joe wanted to know, referring to the gloomy comedian.
“No, he’s in New York, where Mr. Ringold also has a company at work for the movies. C. C. escaped. But Birdie Lee went adrift with the others.”
“Birdie Lee!” cried Joe, for he and Blake were both very fond of the pretty, vivacious girl, whose pictures they had taken many times, as she went through her parts before the camera.
“I only hope we can rescue her,” murmured Blake. “It certainly is a bad bit of news.”
“And he didn’t say how it happened?” inquired Joe.
“All he told me,” resumed Blake, “was that the company was performing open-air stuff near the flooded district. How they happened to be carried away Mr. Ringold didn’t know. It seems that someone telegraphed him the news, that’s how he heard of it.”