Janet Hardy in Hollywood Part 31

Helen was some distance away and Janet, playing a hunch, followed Bertie at a safe distance.

There was no moon, but the sky was studded with stars. The walking through the sand was hard going, but noiseless, and Janet, keeping low, could discern Bertie's silhouette.

Suddenly the older actress stopped and whistled softly, a long, a short and a long whistle. The sound could not have carried back to Sagebrush and Janet, vaguely alarmed, waited.

Almost before she knew it another figure joined Bertie and she could hear the two conversing, but she didn't dare move closer. The newcomer struck a match to light a cigarette and carefully shielded though it was, Janet was close enough to glimpse his face. It was that of a stranger. The match went out and the night seemed darker.

Janet wanted to get closer, but as she moved forward she stumbled over something in the dark and plunged headlong into the sand.

Before she could regain her feet she heard a muttered exclamation and knew she had been discovered.

Then the thin beam from a shielded flashlight struck her face.

Janet knew her only chance was to run for it and she tried to rise, but her feet were entangled in a tough creeper.

"Look out! She may scream!" warned Bertie.

Janet opened her lips to cry out, but before she could do it, the man with Bertie leaped forward and thrust a heavy hand against Janet's mouth.

Suddenly the world went black, the stars vanished, and she dropped into the sand.

_Chapter XXVI_ BOMBS FROM THE SKY

It was later in the evening when Janet was missed. Helen thought her companion had gone to visit some other member of the company and it was well after ten o'clock when she became alarmed and started making inquiries.

"Looking for someone?" asked Bertie Jackson, who seemed to be everywhere.

"I haven't seen Janet for several hours."

"Maybe she's got a date with a boy friend in the desert."

"Janet hasn't any boy friend and she wouldn't be dating in the desert,"

snapped Helen.

"Have it your own way," retorted Bertie, but as she turned away a sneer distorted her vapid face.

Helen finally communicated her fears to her father.

"I've gone over the entire camp and no one has seen Janet for at least an hour and none of them are sure it was that recent. I'm worried."

Henry Thorne, busy working with one of the writers on a difficult bit of script that needed smoothing up half way dismissed Helen's fears with a wave of his hand. Then he stopped.

"You're sure she's not in camp?" he asked.

"I'm positive, Dad. Do you think anything terrible has happened?"

"Of course not. She's probably walked out into the desert and has gone too far. I'll rout out some of the men and we'll start a searching party."

Curt Newsom was one of the first to answer the call and he muttered to himself when he heard the news.

"There's trouble brewing," he told Helen. "You stick close to me."

"What do you mean, Curt?" asked Helen, her voice filled with anxiety.

"I mean this picture promises to be too big and someone is trying to throw a wrench in the proceedings."

"Some rival company?"

"It could be that. I'm not saying, but I'm certainly going to keep my eyes open."

Under the brisk commands of Helen's father, the ghost town awoke. Men who had been asleep were routed out, cars commandeered, and parties swept away over the desert in search of the missing girl.

Curt Newsom, who had brought several horses with him, preferred to ride and Helen went with him. Curt saddled the horses and they swung away into the desert together.

Across the almost level floor of the desert they could see the cars swinging in great circles.

"They won't find anything," said Curt, and after that they rode on in a silence broken only by the steady shuffling of the horses through the sand.

At intervals they stopped and Curt's great voice boomed through the night.

"We'd better turn back to camp," the cowboy star finally advised. "Maybe some of the others have news."

But when they gathered in the ghost town, Helen knew that the search had been fruitless.

Each searching party brought back the same report--no trace of the missing Janet had been found.

"Everyone try to get some sleep now," said Helen's father. "We'll resume the search at dawn."

Helen went to the room a.s.signed to her and lay down, fully dressed, to try and rest in the short interval before dawn. But sleep would not come and thoughts raced through her head. Something was decidedly amiss and, like Curt Newsom, she could now sense impending disaster to the company.

Just what it was or how it would strike she could not determine, but a terrible uneasiness gripped her.

Breakfast was served at dawn. Most of the women in the company were on hand to aid in the search, but Henry Thorne called only upon the men.

Half a dozen cars were manned and they swung out again to comb the desert floor.

"Let them go," said Curt Newsom to Helen. "We'll ride. If there are any tracks, we'll be able to follow them easier."

The tall, well-built cowboy star swung into his saddle and they trotted away between two tumbledown houses of the ghost town.

Shadows of the morning were long and heavy, for the sun was just topping the mountains, but Helen, riding close behind the cowboy, glimpsed a footprint in the sand. She reined in her horse and called to Curt, who whirled quickly.

"Someone's been through here," she said, pointing to where the sand was fairly hard packed.

"Anyone could have left a print like that," replied the cowboy star.

"Your nerves are getting the best of you, Helen. Steady up."