The first film taken is called a “negative” and is a sort of “master film.” Once this is dry it is put in an apparatus somewhat like the camera. Under the master film, just as you put a piece of sensitive paper under your one negative, is a reel of unexposed film. A bright light is placed in front, the machinery starts pulling the strip of celluloid along, and from the negative any number of “positives” can be made. It is these positives, with the true relation of lights and shadows, that are thrown on the screen. The positive is put on the projecting machine, an intense electric light is used, again a handle is turned, and the views, magnified many hundred times, are thrown on the screen. For the explanation of why “moving pictures move,” or seem to, though they really do not, I refer readers to the first book of this series, where a full explanation is given, with a short history of how moving pictures were discovered. But I know you boys and girls want to get on with this story, so I will save further explanations for another time. After Blake and Joe had made their pictures of the storm they got quite a surprise. They had put away their camera, and were talking with Mr. Duncan in their stateroom, when a steward knocked at the door. “Well?” asked Blake. “If you please, sir,” the man announced, “there is a friend of yours who wants to see you.” “A friend of ours?” asked Joe. “Yes, sir. On board here. He says he’s an old friend?” “An old friend? We haven’t any old friends on board here,” said Blake, wondering if his rival, Munson, who was later his friend, could be on the ship. “Yes, he says so, and he wants you to come and see him before he dies.” “Before he dies!” cried Joe. “Well, he thinks he is dying--all seasick folks do,” replied the steward. “I will take you to him,” and the boys, much surprised, followed to a nearby stateroom. As they opened the door they heard a familiar voice saying: “Oh, why did I do it? Oh, why did I ever come? Oh, this is the last of me! Let me see my friends before I go. Oh, dear!” “Listen!” cried Blake. “If it isn’t C. C. Piper I’m an Indian!” exclaimed Joe. “Yes, look your last on me, boys,” said the gloomy comedian, as he raised his head from the berth. “I’m a goner!” CHAPTER VII BAD NEWS Blake and Joe hardly knew whether to believe the evidence of their senses or not. To all appearances there, before them, in a narrow bunk, was C. C. Piper, the erstwhile comedian of the theatrical troupe. And yet, as they looked at him again, they saw a great change in him. He was wan, thin, and pale--altogether ill-looking. “Is--is it really him?” gasped Joe. “It doesn’t seem----” “I hardly know,” began Blake, “and yet----” “It’s me, all right, boys,” answered Mr. Piper, and they recognized his voice, weak as it was. “His name is Piper,” put in the steward, “and he’s down that way on the passenger list.”