When the Cuddeback farmer first met the Biograph Indian, “Gad,” thought he, “what was the world coming to anyhow? Moving picture people? Smart folks to have found their Cuddebackville. Who’d have believed it? New York City actors riding up and down their roads, and stopping off to do wicked stage acting right in front of their best apple tree.” “Hey there, Hiram, how’ll five bucks suit you?” Hiram was a bit deaf. “No? Ten? All right, here she is.” Hiram we won completely. He hoped we’d come often. And the Big Farmer’s “help” were with us heart and soul. We sometimes used them for “extras” and paid them five dollars. Back to the farm at five per week after that? No, they’d wait and loaf until the “picture people” came again. The picture people nearly demoralized the farming business in Cuddebackville and environs--got the labor situation in a terrible mess. * * * * * There was need for a stone house in “1776” or “The Hessian Renegades,” and for “Leather Stocking”--a genuine pre-revolutionary stone house. Three saddle horses were also needed. For the moment we were stumped. Toward late afternoon when the light began to fail us, we would utilize the time hunting the morrow’s locations. This fading hour found Billy Bitzer, David, and myself (myself still in Janice Meredith costume and curls of “1776”) enjoying the physical luxury of the “Red Devil,” but mentally disturbed over the stone house and horses. We happened to turn into a pretty road; we spied a beautiful gateway and beyond the gateway, grassy slopes and wonderful trees and pools of quiet water. “Let’s stop here a minute,” said Mr. Griffith. “Whose place is this?” “I’d never go in there, if I were you,” answered Mr. Predmore. “That place belongs to Mr. Goddefroy, he’s the wealthiest man around here; won’t have an automobile on his place and is down on anybody who rides in one; has fine stables and the automobiles are just beginning to interfere with his horseback rides. I don’t know just how he’d receive you. Anyhow I can’t drive you in in this car of mine.” So we parked outside in the roadway. “We’ve got to work in here, that’s all there is to it,” said David, looking about. But where did anybody live? The road wound up and up. Sheep nibbling on the velvet grass were mixed in with a few prize pigs taking their siestas beneath beautiful copper beeches. “Certainly is some place,” he continued. We had sauntered up the gravel road quite to the hilltop before we saw coming towards us across the lawn, a bright-eyed, pink-cheeked woman in simple gingham dress. She greeted us pleasantly. The situation was explained and the lady replied, “Well, that is very interesting, and as far as I am concerned you are quite welcome to take some pictures here, but you must ask the boss first.” Over by his stables we found the “Boss.”