# The Moving Picture Boys and the Flood/Chapter 1

THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
AND THE FLOOD
CHAPTER I
A LONG-DISTANCE CALL
"Say, this looks bad, Joe! It sure does!"
"What's that, Blake? Must be quite serious, to make you sit up and take notice."
"It is! Look at the scare head!" and the speaker held out, for the inspection of his companion, a newspaper the front page of which fairly bristled with black type.
They were two youths, sitting under a cherry tree, on the green grass of a lawn which fronted a farmhouse. They were evidently taking their ease, or had been, for there were comfortable chairs near them, two hammocks, and a pile of magazines, while on a board seat, built into a crotch of the cherry tree, was a large pitcher of lemonade. And if that doesn't show comfort on a warm, sunny June day I don't know what does.
​"Where'd you get that paper?" asked Joe Duncan, as he accepted the sheet his companion, Blake Stewart, passed over.
"It came in the mail, but I didn't take it out of the wrapper until a second ago. It's yesterday's. Some news that; eh?"
"It sure is," and as Joe began to read, Blake looked over his shoulder, murmuring such expressions as: "Worst flood in years! Many houses swept away! Toll of lives will be heavy! Many deeds of heroism! Mississippi on great rampage!"
What Blake gave expression to was merely quoted from some of the lines in the heading of the article that had so excited him and his chum. It was a telegraphed story of a big flood on the Mississippi, which, the article stated, was higher than it had been in years, while unusually heavy spring rains had added to the terrors of the rising waters.
"That sure is some flood!" murmured Joe, as he reached the bottom of the newspaper page, and turned the sheet over. "Hello!" he cried. "They've got some pictures of it, too!"
Almost all of the second page was taken up with half-tone cuts of scenes in the flooded districts. There were views of overturned houses being swept down a turbulent stream, pictures of half-demolished buildings, jammed together into ​a rude sort of raft, on which could be seen farm animals; views of whole towns partly inundated, and people being taken from roofs and out of third-story windows in small boats. It was a photographic story of untold misery and desolation.
"Yes, sir, that sure is some flood, Blake," murmured Joe. "And do you know what I think?"
"I might make a guess at it, old man."
But Joe did not give his chum a chance. He went on hastily:
"I think we ought to go out there with our moving picture cameras, and get some films of that flood."
"I thought you were going to say that."
"Then you're not surprised. But how does it strike you?"
"Well, I sure would like to see the Mississippi on a tear the like of which she's having now, for it would be something worth remembering And I suppose we could make a neat little sum, over and above our expenses, if we went out there and got a lot of films. We could work them off through the moving picture newspaper syndicate easily enough. But you know why we came out here to Central Falls; don't you, Joe?" added Blake.
"To get a good rest in the country, of course."
​"That's it, and we're getting it. There isn't anything I like better than this," and Blake, who had stretched out in lazy luxury on the grass, looked up at the blue sky, and into the cherry tree, which was laden with luscious fruit. "All I want now is a robin to come along, pick the cherries and drop them down to me," went on Blake, with a grin.
"Say, you don't want much," laughed Joe. "But it sure is nice here," and he looked across the fertile farm acres that stretched away to the rear, and on either side of the comfortable house, in the shade of which they were taking their ease.
"Finest place we could strike to spend a vacation," agreed Blake.
"But, all the same, I think we're missing a chance if we don't go out there and get some Mississippi flood pictures," went on Joe. "How does it strike you?"
"Say, I wish you hadn't mentioned it, Joe! Now you've got me going! If we hadn't seen a big story of it in the papers we'd be content to sit here, and take it easy. But, now that the germ has got to working——"
"Then you'll go there with me, and take our moving picture cameras along; won't you?" interrupted Joe, eagerly. "I tell you we may never have another chance like this!
​"We've got pictures of earthquakes, of volcanoes in eruption, of wild animals fighting, and lots of other exciting things. But we never yet tackled a flood," went on Joe, with ever-growing enthusiasm. "And you know moving water always shows up well on the films."
"Oh, I can see what all this is leading to," broke in Blake. "Good-bye to all the fine, lazy times we've been having the last two weeks. No more lying in bed as long as you like—no more chicken dinners—we'll be lucky if we can hold a sandwich in one hand and grind away at the crank of the moving picture camera with the other. Good-bye to a good day's fishing in the brook. No more cherry pie, and no more lemonade in the shade. And, speaking of lemonade, we might as well finish this pitcher, and get ready to go. I can see what is going to happen," and he sighed in pretended dolefulness.
"Oh, don't go just because I suggested it, Blake," said Joe, quickly.
"Oh, no, I'm not blaming you. It's just that it's in our blood, I guess We can't seem to keep away from places where there are moving pictures to be made. Might as well get started. Here, have some," and he poured out a drink of lemonade.
"Oh, we'll have a good time, as well as some work, if we go out there," declared Joe. "It ​won't be as bad as you try to make out. Didn't we always have good times on our trips?"
"Yes, and strenuous times, too. I'm not making any kick. Only if we hadn't seen that newspaper we could still be sitting here in the shade, eating cherries——"
Something fell with a thud on Blake's upturned face.
"Wow!" he cried. "I guess that robin's getting busy," for a ripe, luscious cherry had fallen from above, and Blake laughed as he popped it into his mouth.
"It's a good thing this isn't a cocoanut tree," remarked Joe. "You wouldn't feel so jolly if one of those hit you."
"I guess not. Well, I s'pose we might as well go in and tell Mr. Baker that we're going to leave him. We can pack up to-day, and start West to-morrow. We'll have to have the cameras sent on from New York. We can order them and a supply of film by telegraph. I guess we could telephone the message in. That will save a trip to town, and we haven't much time," added Joe.
"There you go! Off with a rush! Telephones and telegrams. Walking will be too slow for you! Everything bang-up! Let her go!" cried Blake, swinging his arms to indicate progress. ​"Good-bye, vacation!" he cried. "The strenuous life from now on!"
The two youths arose from the grass, and together they started for the house at which they were boarding.
They had gone only a few steps, however, when, from across the country road, and a short distance down it, came a hail.
"Who's that?" asked Joe.
"I don't know—listen!" suggested Blake. "Are they calling us?"
There was no doubt about it a moment later, for the boys heard a voice shouting:
"Hi there! Joe! Blake! Moving Picture Boys! You're wanted!"
"Who is it? I can't see," murmured Joe.
"It's Harry, the clerk in Robertson's store," answered Blake, for a short distance away was the general store—"The Universal Emporium," as the sign had it—of Hank Robertson, of Central Falls.
"Come on, boys!" went on the voice of the caller, who was out of sight because of a roadside hedge. "You're wanted on the long-distance telephone!"
"Ugh!" groaned Blake. "Might have known it. Did you start this, Joe?" and he looked at his chum suspiciously.
​"Don't know a thing about it. Who can want us on the 'phone?"
"Best way's to go and find out. Mighty queer, though, that just as we read of the Mississippi flood, and decide to go, someone should ring us up on long distance. I thought we got rid of all that when we came here for our vacation. Things have started with a rush."
"Say, are you comin'?" demanded the store clerk. "Central has been ringin' like all possessed! Must be important!"
"I guess it is, or they wouldn't telephone," murmured Blake.
"We're coming!" cried Joe.
Together the boys hurried out into the road, and turned down toward the store.
There were not many telephones in the country village of Central Falls. They were considered too much of a luxury. But Hank Robertson was rather progressive, and had had a long distance instrument installed in his store some time before.
"There you be, boys!" he said, as Joe and Blake entered. "I knew as soon as I heard the bell ring that it was long distance. I answered, and sent Harry out to call you."
"Much obliged," spoke Blake. "Do you know who it is?"
​"Nope. It was Central talking. She said either of you two was wanted."
Blake stepped to the instrument, and took up the receiver, which had been standing upright on the desk.
"Hello!" He called into the transmitter. Then he was silent, but, from the look of wonder and surprise that spread over his face as he listened, Joe knew that it was something important, and out of the usual.