And above all the din could be heard the voice of Mr. Dickle, the stage
manager, roaring directions through his megaphone. "Great scene! Fine!
Register excitement! Fall down, Murphy! Tumble over, there, Lisk;
you're dead--tumble, I say. Don't be afraid of your uniform. I'll pay
for that. Fall!--fall!--fall! Now, Green Mountain Boys, up and at 'em!
Charge! Charge! Beat it, you Red Coats--you're licked. Run! Git! Beat
it, I say! After 'em, scouts, after 'em! Fine! Great scene! All right;
that'll do. Quit firing."

The roar of the flintlocks ceased and Bruce and the rest of the scouts
stopped, thoroughly out of breath with excitement. The Red Coats and
Indians stopped also, and, turning about, rejoined their erstwhile
enemies. The "dead" and "wounded" stood up, too, and began to walk about
and chat with the rest, all of which gave the scouts the impression that
a "movie" battle was the only really pleasant kind of battle, after all.

"Well, you scouts certainly filled the bill as Green Mountain Boys," said
Mr. Dickle when the boys reached the road where he was standing. "That
will make a great scene. Now, just as soon as Bob gets his stuff stowed
away in the truck, we'll start for town."

Bruce noticed that the camera man was having difficulty in getting his
outfit in the truck unassisted, so he ran on ahead of the others to help
him.

"Here, Bruce," said the movie operator, "you get up in the wagon and I
will hand the things to you and you can stow them under the seat."

The camera man handed up the box-like machine, which Bruce started
packing under the seat. Just as the operator started back up the hill to
get his tripod, in some unaccountable manner the brakes of the heavy
truck loosened and the big vehicle started to roll slowly down the hill.
So steep was the grade that the truck gained momentum at a terrific rate.

Bob, the camera man, noticing what had happened, turned and ran swiftly
down the hill. But it had gained such headway that he couldn't overtake
it.

"Hi, there!" shrieked Mr. Dickle. "Stop that trunk! Stopit! My film!
It's all in the camera, and the truck's running away! Stop it, some one!
Save the film!"

Bruce's first impulse was to jump from the truck and leave it to its
fate, but when he heard the manager's frantic appeal to save the precious
film he climbed quickly over the back of the high seat. In another
instant he grasped the steering wheel and jammed his foo