So when the manager saw Sandy Apgar, who by his quick work had saved a film from being spoiled, making his way out of the throng, the theatrical man called to him: "One moment, please. I want to thank you." "Gosh! I'm getting thanked all around to-day!" laughed the young fellow. "Well, I want to make it a little more substantial, then," went on the manager. "You saved me a few dollars." "Oh, pshaw, that's nothing!" returned Sandy. "I guess your trip to Europe could have gone on." "Europe?" questioned Mr. Pertell. "Yes; ain't you folks going to Europe?" "No, this is only a make-believe trip," laughed the manager. "It's for moving pictures. See, there's the chap who was taking the films, and they'd been spoiled if that horse got on the gang-plank. So you see what you did for us." "Moving pictures; eh?" mused Sandy. "I thought they had to be took in the dark. Leastways, all I ever saw was in the dark." "Oh, that's just to show them," the manager explained. "But we ought to be under way now. Can you come aboard for a little trip? We'll soon be back, and I want to thank you properly. I haven't time now. Come, take a little trip with us." "Well, I s'pose I can," responded Sandy, slowly. "But I ought to be gettin' back to Oak Farm." However, he went aboard the yacht, looking curiously about him, and more curiously at Russ, who began making more pictures as the yacht steamed off down the bay. There were to be a number of scenes on board, but they would not be filmed until the yacht was farther out. Meanwhile, however, the progress of the ship down the bay was to be depicted on the screen, so Russ took pictures from either rail, no members of the company being required in these. Mr. Pertell thus had a chance to talk to Sandy. The young fellow was very willing to tell about himself. "Yes, I live on a farm," he said. "It's a right nice place, too, in summer, though lonesome in winter. I've lived there all my twenty-two years--never knew any other place." "Do you live there all alone?" asked Ruth, for the young farmer had been introduced to the members of the company. "No, my father and mother are there with me. Father is Mr. Felix Apgar--maybe you've heard of him?" the young man asked the manager, innocently. "No, I don't think so," and Mr. Pertell had hard work to repress a smile. "Well, he used to ship a lot of asparagus to New York, but maybe that was before your day," went on Sandy. "Pop is too feeble to work now, so I'm running the farm for him. And it--it's sorter hard," he added, rather pathetically. "Especially when you ain't got any too much money. I come to New York to raise some," he went on, "but folks don't seem to want to part with any--especially on a second mortgage." "Is that what you came for?" asked Mr. Pertell. "Yep. I come to raise some money--we need it bad, out our way, but I couldn't do it." "Suppose you tell me," suggested Mr. Pertell. "I may be able to help you."