style="font-size:15px;"> Cora and Margie, imbued with the excitement of actually being with a movie company, appeared as vivacious as ever.
At breakfast Billy Fenstow outlined plans for the final day’s shooting.
“We’ve got one more scene to take in the village,” he explained. “It’s a shot of a group of townspeople watching the arrival of Curt and the rustlers he has captured.”
Impetuous Cora Dean broke in.
“May Margie and I get in the crowd scene?” she asked eagerly.
A frown appeared on Billy Fenstow’s usually bland face, for he disliked greatly being interrupted when he was outlining his plans to his company.
“We’ll see about it later,” he said curtly, and continued with his explanation.
After breakfast Cora faced Janet.
“Too bad you couldn’t have said a good word for us with your director,” she flared.
“There wasn’t a real good chance,” replied Janet. “I warned you last night not to bother him if he wasn’t in a good mood.”
“But how was I to know?” complained Cora.
“Well, you do now,” said Janet, and it was hard to keep from smiling. But she could realize how much it would mean to Cora and Margie and it would be mean of her not to help them just a little so later she spoke to “Skeets” Irwin, the assistant director, and “Skeets” promised to get Cora and Margie into the crowd scene.
Janet and Helen were in the same scene and they changed into their costumes, Janet into a dusty riding habit and Helen into a gingham dress and the apron that was her badge as a waitress in the village’s one restaurant.
The girls rode down to the village, Cora and Margie following in their own car. “Skeets” had provided them with appropriate costumes and they were so excited they could hardly talk.
Billy Fenstow was back giving instructions to the riders who were to sweep down into the village while “Skeets” handled the scene at the village.
“Don’t stand around like a bunch of wooden Indians,” said the assistant director. “Show some interest when those horsemen come over the hills. I want plenty of action in this scene.”
“Keep close to us,” Janet advised Cora and Margie. “All you have to do is look excited.”
“That’s going to be easy,” smiled Margie. “I’m so nervous now I can’t stay still a minute.”
Final instructions were given and the cameras started grinding as a massed body of riders swept over the crest of the hills and galloped madly toward the village.
The girls, who had been in the restaurant, rushed into the street and joined the other members of the company and the villagers who had been pressed into service as extras.
It was action and good action. Janet thrilled at the magnificent riding of Curt Newsom, who rode with consumate skill and grace. He was a part of the horse he was astride and it was no effort to Janet to register extreme excitement.
The mounted men, a band of captives in the center of the group, reined in before the astonished villagers and Curt, dismounting, pulled one of the captives from his saddle and strode toward the door which was marked sheriff’s office. Curt pulled the protesting rider after him, disappearing into the sheriff’s office. That finished the sequence and the cameras stopped clicking.
It was the last of the big scenes and the rest of the day was to be spent in picking up shots to fill out the story.
“Do you suppose we looked all right?” asked Cora, who had been fitted out in a housedress and sunbonnet. Margie was similarly attired.
“I’m sure you looked your parts,” Janet assured them, “but don’t be too disappointed when you see the picture. There’ll only be a flash of this action on the screen and the ‘mob’ scene won’t last more than a few seconds.”
“We’ll see that one of the theaters at home books it,” declared Margie firmly, “and maybe Pete Benda will run a story about us.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” agreed Janet.
They went back to the ranchhouse for lunch and Billy Fenstow beamed.
“We’re ahead of schedule now. Another two hours and we’ll be ready to start for the studio where we can finish up the interiors in a couple more days.”
The bus which had brought them from Hollywood rolled into the valley and several of the cowboys started loading baggage and equipment aboard it.
Janet and Helen went upstairs, followed by Cora and Margie. Both of the latter had been hinting that they would like an invitation to stay for a time in Hollywood, but they had been so mean and small during their high school days that neither Janet nor Helen could bear the thought of entertaining them.
“Coming back to Clarion this fall?” asked Cora, her dark eyes fairly snapping as she waited eagerly for the answer to her question.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied Janet, quite truthfully.
“How about you, Helen?” It was Margie asking this time.
Helen shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Can’t you stay on in pictures?” asked Cora, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.
That nettled Janet. “If we want to,” she retorted, “but neither one of us can see much of a future in being actresses in western films.”
“With all of the influence your father has, you ought to be able to get into better pictures,” Margie told Helen, and it was her turn to feel a mounting flood of color in her cheeks.
“You can leave Dad out of this. He gave us an introduction, but we’ve won our parts,” snapped Helen.
The girls finished packing in silence and were ready to go down stairs when “Skeets” stuck his head in the door.
“Bus is all ready to start back for the city,” he said, picking up Janet’s and Helen’s bags.
Cora and Margie took their own luggage and followed them down stairs.
“Do you think we ought to invite them to Hollywood with us?” whispered Helen.
“That’s up to you,” replied Janet, “for they would have to be entertained in your home.”
“Well, what do you honestly think?”
Janet didn’t answer at once, but as they reached the bus, she said, “I think I’ve had about all of the insinuations I can stand from either one of them.”
Helen smiled. “That’s a help, for I feel the same way.” She turned toward the other girls, who were putting their baggage in their car.
“We may see you in Clarion before college starts this fall,” she said.
“Thanks for all your help,” flipped Cora, seating herself behind the wheel. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy
