filmed separately, while other
camera men, in the made street, took pictures of the activities there.
Men, women and children went in and out of the houses. Though, as Mr.
Belix Apgar said, "If you call them houses you might as well call the
smell of an onion a dinner. There ain't nothin' to 'em!"

Suddenly an excited rider dashed into the midst of the peaceful
activities of the Southern town.

"They're coming! They're coming!" he cried, waving his hat. "The Yankees
are coming!" This would be flashed on the screen.

Then ensued a wild scene. Colored mammies rushed here and there seeking
their charges. Men began to look to their arms. Then came the advance
guard of the retreating Confederates, turning back to fire at their
enemies.

"Come on now, Ruth--Alice! This is where we make our rush--just as the
first of the Union soldiers appear!" called Paul, who was acting the
part of a Southern youth. "Grab up your stuff and come on!"

Ruth was to carry a bandbox and a case supposed to contain the family
jewels. Alice, who played the part this time of a frivolous young woman,
was to save her pet cat.

"Here they come!" yelled Paul, as the first of the Unionists came into
view at the head of the street. "Hurry, girls!"

Out they rushed, down the steps of the mansion, fleeing before the
mounted Union soldiers, who laughed and jeered, firing at the
Confederates, who were retreating.

Ruth and Estelle, with some of the other women, were in the lead. Alice
had lingered behind, for the cat showed a disposition to wiggle out of
her arms, and she wanted to keep it to make an effective picture.

Finally the creature did make its escape, but Alice was not going to
give up so easily. She started in pursuit, and then one of the Union
soldiers, Maurice Whitlow, spurred his horse forward. He wanted to get
in the foreground of the picture and took this chance.

"Get back where you belong!" yelled the director angrily. "Who told you
to get in the spotlight? Get back!"

But it was too late. Alice, in pursuit of the cat, was running straight
toward Whitlow's horse, and the next moment she slipped and went down,
almost under the feet of the prancing animal.

CHAPTER IX

MISS DIXON'S LOSS

"Look out!" shouted Paul, and, dropping what he was carrying, he made a
leap toward the animal Whitlow was riding.

"Roll out of the way of his feet!" cried the director.

"Shall I keep on with the film?" asked the camera man, for h