Movie Pictorial (September 19, 1914)

THE MOVIE PICTORIAL 7 it? Eh? That’s what I want to know!” “I’m going to find some one that can take our films to Naples or Genoa for me—that’s first,” said Taggart. “Then they’ll be on their way back to Broadway. And then—well, I don’t just know. But I guess the first move will be to go to Lake Constance and see if some of those Zeppelins aren’t flying from Friedrichshafen. We ought to get some good pictures of them—that’s where they try out a lot of the new ones, you know.” “Is it safe?” asked Billy Reynolds. Taggart grinned. He understood his camera man pretty well. Billy could work up plenty of nervousness—until the crucial moment came. And then he wasn’t simply brave; he wasn’t simply indifferent to danger. He didn’t even know there was any danger about! From the moment when either his own eyes or the voice of Taggart told him that there was something for the camera to record, he could think of nothing else. It had been so when the Arch- duke Franz Ferdinand was killed; when the Austrian shells, at the Drina, were bursting within a hundred yards; in Altkirch, when the French were driving the Germans through the streets. “Safe? No — of course not!” said Taggart. “But it’s great stuff—or will be.” “All right,” agreed Reynolds. “But I won’t walk there— not if it’s only three blocks! I’ve walked across half of Ger- many already, and enough is enough!” That was pretty nearly a true state- ment, too. They had crossed parts of Belgium, sneaked through Luxem- bourg, got behind the German advance into Lorraine, and crept, making their way by night, past Metz and through half the battlefields of 1870, only to be caught by a German patrol outside of Altkirch. They had no pass; permission to follow the fighting with a moving picture camera had every- where been denied. They had known, therefore, or, at least, Taggart had known, that a meeting with the troops of either army was pretty sure to mean not only confiscation of all their films, which included^ some pictures that promised to be truly remark- able of dirigibles and aeroplanes in action, but a chance to observe a German firing squad from the point of view of those facing its rifles. That, in fact, was exactly what the German commander had promised them. But he had given them respite enough to let them develop their films—and in that brief interim the French had come. Taggart and Reynolds hadn’t stopped to congratulate the French. They felt that they were likely to be misunder- stood. So they had seized the chance to get to Switzerland, knowing that the red-legged soldiers didn’t know of their existence. “We won’t have to walk—not very far, any- how,” soothed Clem. “We’ll ride in a nice Swiss railroad train—and, after you’ve done that for a while you'll be glad to walk!” In spite of which slanderous statement the maligned Swiss railway system took them, in considerable comfort, to Constance. They reached the Swiss city, on the shores of the lake from which it takes its name, early in the morning. And almost at once they were rewarded. For, just emerging from a great hangar in Friedrichshafen, on the Wurtemburg shore, was one of the great air battleships of Zeppelin. The sun shone on its great, cigar- shaped shell; even Reynolds exclaimed at the sight. “Only one thing to do—they’ll never let us work in the open here,” said Taggart. “You wait!” Taggart carried gold—and an eloquent tongue. He needed them both. But he re- turned, to drag Reynolds with him to a house overlooking the lake, from one room of which he was now privileged to do what he might with his camera. “Of course,” complained Taggart, “there’ll be no action to this—not unless she takes a dive into the lake. And even that wouldn’t hurt her—she’d float. That’s why they try them out here. But, Lord—she’s the biggest I’ve seen! What a monster! I bet this is one of the big ones they figure on sending over to drop bombs in England!” “Great little stunt, this telescope,” said Reynolds. He adjusted the device by which Taggart had made it possible to annihilate dis- tance in the taking of pictures. Then he studied the range, using a synchronized glass that let him see the relative size of the objects within his range. And suddenly he exclaimed, sharply. “Got a glass?” he cried. “Then get the Zeppelin. Right? Now—about ten degrees west—and much higher. See that speck? It’s too big for a bird, isn’t it?” “Jove—yes!” said Taggart. “Aeroplane! Coming, too—coming like a streak! Funny! Wouldn’t think they’d have a ’plane coming that way! Heading from the French border— Strassburg, maybe. Hello!" Suddenly he was vastly excited. "Get ready!” he almost shrieked. “I can’t believe it—but—yes, by the Lord Harry! That’s a Depperdussin monoplane—and the Germans never had a ’plane of that type! Ready—start her, Billy!” Nearer and nearer came the aeroplane, flying, with the wind behind it, at a speed almost in- credible. And, as it came, it was sweeping downward, volplaning in long curves, then being caught up again. The big Zeppelin was up perhaps eight hundred feet; it began to maneuver now. And suddenly, from the gun platforms above the great gas bag little puffs of smoke began to rise. About the flying, dodging monoplane other puffs appeared; the smoke of bursting shells. “Glory be!” said Taggart, solemnly. “Billy —that’s a Frenchman, raiding! Look—there he goes!” The aeroplane was circling above the airship now. And they saw something drop—some- thing that separated into two black dots, drop- ping in a sort of unison. “Linked bombs—Lord!” gasped Taggart. “See?” But Billy wasn’t looking. He was thinking only of his work. Taggart alone—and the camera—saw what happened. Saw the linked bombs strike true, the chain that held them drooping over the cigar-shaped shell. Saw the frantic efforts of the men on the gun platforms climbing out, regardlessly, on the frail footing of the gas bag., Saw the sudden flash; the crumpling of the huge Zeppelin as both bombs exploded. Saw the whole mighty structure col- lapse in a puff of smoke and flame. Saw, a moment later, the smoking wreckage dive, like a plummet, for the lake. Saw the cloud of steam that marked the grave of the air mon- ster and every man aboard. And saw, finally, the monoplane winging its way back toward the west, whence it had come to deal that blow! Then, and only then, the camera stopped. And the two Americans looked at one another. “Did you get it all?” asked Taggart, awed. “Every bit!” said Reynolds. “And I’ve got just three feet of film left!” “Think of it!” said Taggart. “Can you see that on a screen, Billy? Gosh! It’s too good to be true! They’ll get it away from us! No one was ever meant to pull off anything like that! And we’ll never see a thing like it!” Reynolds was si- lent. “Here’s where we lose the camera!” said Taggart, with decision. “It’s no good without film— and I don’t know where we’ll get any, short of London or Paris — and I wouldn’t bank on Paris. Anyhow—we can get another camera anywhere where we can get film. Here—I’ll dark- en up this room—or, you do it. I’ll go down and fix up some kind of a lan- tern we can use.” “We can’t develop here,” protested Billy. “Don’t intend to. But we can’t carry that film around loose, either. I just thought—I’ve got a chance to beat even a German search.” When he returned, with an improvised red lantern — actu- ally, a pocket flash- light, with a red covering—the room was dark. They cut up the film then into short lengths— all that they had. And each length Taggart wrapped, first in red oil silk, then in black cloth. “Thought of this sort of a fix long ago,” he explained. “Then I got rattled, for a minute, and forgot. All right—give me your coat.” He removed his own coat. Deliberately he ripped out the linings. Then he produced needle and thread and distributed the precious packages of film. After which, having seen that each length was securely fastened, and that it would not rustle, or bulge unduly, he sewed the linings in the coats again. “Some seamstress!” said Billy, derisively. "I suppose you learned that putting on your own buttons!” “I learned it, anyhow,” said Taggart, grimly. “And I suspect it’s going to annoy some people a whole lot, too! The result is, anyhow! Even if they shoot us, they may have the decency to ship our clothes home as relics— and that’ll do the trick. All right. I think we’ll go home through Germany!” “Help!” cried Reynolds, weakly. “Do you want to commit suicide? You’ve had lots easier ways than that of doing it!” “Nix,” said Taggart, cheerfully. “We used to be movie men, Billy. But I’ve had a chance to read the papers. Now we’re stranded American tourists—who didn’t have sense enough to get passports. See!” He tore up the documents that had done (Continued on page 26) A Burned and Blackened Farm House Near Liege Which was Destroyed by the German Troops