e duet.

A little later the place where the retake was to be made was reached.
Mr. Bunn was on hand, wearing his air of "Hamletian gloom," as Alice
whispered, and the work of retaking the scenes was soon under way.

This time all went well. Alice drove her "flivver" at Mr. Bunn, who was
properly knocked down and looked after by Ruth. No small boys, with an
exaggerated sense of humor, got in the way, and the girls were shortly
back in their apartment. They had moved to a more pretentious home since
their success in moving pictures, and the Dalwoods had taken an
apartment in the same building.

"And now to get on with my packing!" sighed Alice. "All I am sure of is
that I have my 'brogans' in."

"I'll help you," offered Ruth.

Two days later the Comet Film Company, augmented for the occasion, was
at the depot in Hoboken, ready to take the Lackawanna train out to Oak
Farm, New Jersey, where it nestled in the hills of Sussex County.

"I don't see how they are going to take battle scenes with just this
company," observed Alice, as she surveyed her fellow workers. "And where
are the guns and horses?"

"They'll come up later," Russ informed her. "There are to be two big
companies and a couple of batteries, but they won't be on hand until
they are really needed. It costs too much to keep them when they are not
working."

"Are you all here?" asked Mr. Pertell hurrying along the seats with a
handful of tickets--"counting noses," so to speak.

"All here, I think," answered Russ.

"Where is Carl Switzer?" asked the manager.

"He was here a minute ago," Alice said.

"Well, he isn't here now," remarked Mr. Bunn.

"And almost time for the train to start!" exploded the director. "We
need him in some of the first scenes to-morrow. Get him, somebody!"

"Hey, Mister! Does yer mean dat funny, moon-faced man what talks like a
pretzel?" asked a newsboy in the station.

"Yes, that's Mr. Switzer," was the answer. "Where is he?"

"I jest seen him go out dat way," and the boy pointed toward the doors
leading to the street in front of the ferry. This street led over to the
interned German steamships at the Hoboken piers.

CHAPTER III

HARD AT WORK

"Great Scott!" ejaculated Mr. Pertell. "I might have known that if
Switzer came anywhere near his German friends he'd be off having a
confab with them. Go after him, somebody! It's only five minutes to
train time, and it will take those Germans that long to say how-de-do