Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

"It must belong to some of the cottages around the bend," answered Dave. "I believe there is quite a colony somewhere up here."

They passed around the point of rocks, and a few minutes later came in sight of several rustic cottages set in a grove of trees. In front of the cottages was a long, narrow dock, at which rested several craft, including a fair-sized motor-boat.

"Hello, I didn't know there was a motor-boat on this lake!" exclaimed Dave. "Whoever owns it must have had some job getting it here."

No one was at the dock or on the motor-boat, and passing that point, Dave sent his canoe along another picturesque bit of the lake shore. Then, as they made another turn, they came in sight of a log cabin which had evidently been erected many years before.

"Well, I never! Dave, what in the world are those folks doing?"

The cry came from Jessie, and not without reason, for they had suddenly come in sight of three or four men and several ladies, all stationed in front of the old log cabin. One of the men was dressed in the garb of a woodsman; and he held a large ax in his hands, raised over his head as if to strike down one of the younger ladies. Then another of the ladies rushed up, and fell on her knees with upraised hands in front of the man.

"Hello, I know these people!" cried Dave, in astonishment. "They are the moving-picture actors who were on board that burning steam yacht!"

CHAPTER XIV

SOMETHING OF A QUARREL

"The moving-picture actors, Dave?" queried Jessie, in wonder.

"Yes. Don't you see the man over there with the camera? He is grinding out a picture of that scene."

"O my! is that the way they do it?" returned the girl, with interest. "I've read about it, but I never had a chance before to see how it was done."

Dave brought the canoe to a standstill, and both watched the little drama being enacted before the old log cabin. Our hero saw that the young lady in the scene was Della Ford, and the elderly lady the one she had called Aunt Bess.

"All over!" exclaimed a man, who stood beside the individual at the moving-picture camera. The latter had stopped turning the handle of the machine, and now he proceeded to cover the whole outfit with a black cloth.

"Well, I'm glad that's over!" those in the canoe heard Della Ford exclaim. "Come, Aunt Bess, let us go back to the water." The young lady turned from the group, and as she did so she caught sight of the canoe and its occupants. She stared for an instant, and then her face lit up.

"Mr. Porter! is it possible!" she exclaimed. "I certainly didn't expect to meet you up here. Aunt Bess, here is the young gentleman who saved us from drowning."

"You don't tell me!" came from the aunt, and then both hurried their steps toward a tiny dock beside which the canoe was resting.

"I certainly didn't expect to meet you again, and away up here in the Adirondacks," answered Dave, with a smile. And then, as the young moving-picture actress came closer, he introduced the girls to each other.

"This is my aunt, Mrs. Bess Ford," announced Della, to Jessie. "I suppose you saw us acting just now?"

"We did," answered Jessie. "It was quite interesting."

"I suppose it is, to an outsider," responded the young actress. "It gets to be an old story with us; doesn't it, Aunt Bess?"

"Oh, I don't mind it," returned the aunt. "I'd rather be up here in the woods acting for the movies than down in some stuffy theater in this warm weather."

"Did Mr. Porter tell you what a grand hero he is, Miss Wadsworth?" asked Della Ford, turning to Jessie. "Oh, he's just the grandest hero I ever met!" and she beamed on Dave.

"Come now, Miss Ford, please don't mention it again," expostulated Dave. "I didn't do so very much, and you know it."

"Isn't saving my life a good deal?" demanded the young actress, archly.

"Oh, I don't mean that. What I mean is that anybody could have done what I did."

"But you did it, young man, and you ought to have credit for it," put in Mrs. Ford, bluntly. "It was certainly a brave thing to do."

"It was; and I shall never cease to thank Mr. Porter for it," went on Della Ford, and she gave Dave another warm look, at which he blushed more than ever.

This look was not lost on Jessie; and she bit her lip in a way that showed she was not altogether pleased. Then Mr. Appleby, the manager of the moving-picture company, came forward, followed by several others.

"This certainly is a surprise!" said the manager. "First we meet on the Atlantic Ocean, and next in the heart of the Adirondacks."

"It's like some of your changes in the movies," answered Dave, smiling. "You show us a shipwreck, and then, presto! you transfer us to an office in Wall Street. You must have to jump around pretty lively to get all the scenes of a drama."

"We don't take just one drama," explained Mr. Appleby. "We sometimes do half a dozen or more. For instance, while we are up here we are going to take the outdoor scenes to fifteen or twenty dramas. Then we'll go back to the city and finish up with a number of interiors."

"Wouldn't you like to be a moving-picture actor, Mr. Porter?" asked Della Ford, eagerly. "You could go into a nautical rescue scene very nicely."

"There you go again, Miss Ford!" returned Dave. "Just the same, it must be some fun being in a moving picture."

"Oh, Dave, don't you go into any moving picture," interrupted Jessie, quickly.

"Why, what would be the harm?" he questioned.

"Oh, no particular harm, I suppose. Only I shouldn't like it," she answered, in a low tone.

"You might get into our next scene," went on Della Ford, ignoring Jessie's remark. "We are going to have one that will show several canoes besides the motor-boat tied up at the dock around the bend."

"Well, I'll think about it," answered Dave, hesitatingly; and then he went on to Mr. Appleby: "By the way, is Ward Porton still with you?"

"He is with my company, yes; but he is not here just now," was the reply. "I expect him in a week or so."

"I met him in Crumville, where I live."

"Is that so? I thought he had gone to his old home down East. However, it doesn't matter; he has a right to go where he pleases."

"By the way, Mr. Appleby, I would like to speak to you in private for a moment," went on Dave, and leaping ashore he drew the manager to one side.

"What is it?"

"You have a new member of your company, a young fellow named Link Merwell."

"Yes, what of it?"

"Link Merwell is a criminal – a fugitive from justice," answered Dave. And then he gave the man some of the particulars already known to my readers.

"If what you say is true, Porter, I don't want that fellow in my company," said Mr. Appleby, warmly. "What do you want me to do when he comes, hold him a prisoner?"

"I wish you would do that, and let us know. Mr. Wadsworth will take care of Merwell."

"All right, I'll do it – if he shows up. But he may not do that – if he has found out that you are in this vicinity," added the manager.