is everyone here?" asked Mr. Pertell a little later, when a
railroad man, through a megaphone, announced the make-up of the
train.

"It seems so," remarked Mr. DeVere, who spoke in a hoarse and husky
whisper, difficult to understand. In fact, as you will learn later,
it was this affliction that had caused him to be acting for moving
pictures instead of in the legitimate drama.

Mr. Pertell took a rapid survey of his little company, and then went
off to make sure that the trunks containing the various costumes had
been properly checked.

"Funny thing about Beatonville," remarked Russ to Ruth.

"Why so?" she asked.

"Oh, every time I inquired of the brakeman, or starter, where the
train for that place left from, they'd laugh. I thought there must be
some joke, and I asked about it."

"Was there?"

"Well, not much of one. It seems that Beatonville is about the last
place in Jersey that anyone ever heads for. I guess it must consist
of the depot and one house--the one where the agent lives. There is
only one train a day and the place is so lonesome, the starter said,
that the engineer hates to stop there."

"Oh, well, we aren't going there for pleasure--we're going to work,"
put in Ruth. "Besides, Oak Farm isn't exactly in Beatonville; is it,
Russ?"

"No, a few miles out, I believe. Well, it will be a rest for us after
the rush of the city, anyhow."

"All aboard!" called a brakeman, and the Comet Film Company, bag and
baggage, started for the train that was to take them to new scenes of
activity.

"Why do you carry your camera, Russ?" asked Ruth, when she and her
sister were seated near the young man, on whom devolved the duty of
"filming," or taking, the various scenes of the plays it was planned
to produce.

"Oh, I didn't know but what I might see something to 'shoot' it at,"
he answered, with a laugh. "You know Mr. Pertell sometimes sends
films to the Moving Picture Weekly Newspaper--scenes of current
events. I might catch one for him on the way."

"I see. Have you ever been to Oak Farm, Russ?"

"Yes, I went up there when Mr. Pertell looked it over to see if it
would do for our new rural dramas."

"What sort of a place is it?" asked Alice.

"Very nice--for a farm."

"Isn't there something queer about it?" asked Ruth. "I mean wasn't
there some sort of a mystery connected with Sandy Apgar, the young
farmer who works it? You know we met him in New York," she added to
Alice.

"Yes, I remember."