Merton of the Movies

fair supporting an immense tank that would, evidently for some occult reason important to screen art, hold a great deal of water. The sawmill was gone; at one end of the pool rode a small

y it was that. Yet he didn't want to face her again, even if for a moment she had quit trying to be funny, even if for a moment her eyes had searched his quite earnestly, her broad, amiable face glowing with that sudden friendly concern. It had been hard to withstand this yeste

rest in his affairs, even by someone as inconsequent, as negligible in the world of screen artistry as this lightsome minx who, because of certain mental infirmities, could never hope

s was the narrow street of some quaint European village, Scotch he soon saw from the dress of its people. A large automobile was invading this remote hamlet to the dismay of its inhabitants. Rehearsed through a megaphone

osed bones and the jaded droop of his head above a low stone wall. Twice the car sped by him, arousing

stupefaction of Merton Gill, even the old horse proved to be an actor of rare merits. As the car approached he seemed to suffer a painful shock. He tossed his aged head, kicked viciously with his rear feet, stood absurdly aloft on them, then turned and fled from the monster. As Merton mused upon the genius of the trai

k-salt. Merton Gill hoped it had been nothing sterner. For the first time in his screen career he became cynica

een smitten with a quick vision of Beulah Baxter in one of her most daring exploits. She, at least, was real. D

e bar-room dance-hall was for the moment deserted of its ribald crew while an honest inhabitant of the open spaces on a balcony was holding a large revolver to the shrinking back of one of the New York men who had lately arrived by the stage. He forced this

've heard a shot-you're running outside to see what's the matter. On your toes, now-try it

and passed from the picture. Here they

to get ahead, and you're noisy, too. You're shouting. You're saying, 'What's this? What's it all about? What's the matter? Which way did he go?' Say anything you want to, but keep shou

at moment he descried the Montague girl back behind a light-standard. She had not noted him, but was in close talk with a man h

orrow afternoon, anyway

er on the set whenever you're through. Come over tonigh

yout-she'll be doing tank stuff till all hours-shipwreck and murder and all like that. Gosh, I hope it ain't cold. I don'

of yourself-don't dive and forget to

Gill beside her. "Well, well, as I live, the actin' kid once mor

the place where he had watched the carpenters and the men on the sailboat; but as he tried to word this he saw that the girl was again scann

s again in her eye the look of warm concern, and she was no longer trying to be funny. He might

d the piano during that gun play just now, and you stay hid t

a few hours he would actually behold his wonder-woman in at least one of her daring exploits. Shipwreck! Perhaps she would be all but drowned. He hastened back to the pool t

ng besides food to think of. And he wondered what the Montague girl could be doing in the company of a really serious artist like Beulah Baxter. From her own story she was going to get wet, but from what he knew of her she would be some character not gr

Immense lights, both from the scaffolding and from a tower back of the sailing-craft, flooded its deck and rigging from time to time as adjustments were made. The rigging was slack and the deck wa

ant with the quiet starlit night. Then he traced them without difficulty to their various sources. The gale issued from the swift revolutions of that aeroplane propeller he had noticed a while ago. The flooding billows wer

rtense. He called directions to the men who tugged the rope, to the men in control of the lights, and to another who seemed to create the billows. Among other items he wished more action for the boat and more wa

ggressive, he spoke rudely to his doubtless conscientious employees, he danced in little rages of temper, and altogether he was not one with whom the watcher would have cared to come in contact. He wondered, indeed, that so puissant a star as Beulah Baxter should not be

in which the man so far forgot himself as to speak sharply to the star, and in which a certain young actor, a new member of the company, resent

louded moon broke through the mist that issued from a steam pipe. There was another lull, and the Semitic type on the platform became increasingly offensive. Merton saw himself saying, "Allow me, Miss Baxter, to relieve you of the presence of this b

ig lights at last seemed to be adjusted to the director's whim. The aeroplane propeller whirred and the gale was found

s the mist lifted. She was chatting with one of the pirates who had stepped ashore from the boat. The wonderful golden hair shone resplendent under the glancing rays of the arcs. A cloak was about her shoulders, but at a word of command from the director

all ready Jose and Ga

alled from so many of her pictures, a half-humorous, half-mocking little defiance. She used it

least one of the crew would be at the wheel in this emergency. Probably the director knew no better. Indeed the boat, so far

the wind blew, and billows swept the deck. At the height of the tempest Beulah Baxter sprang from the cabin to the deck, clutchin

d upon the death of the heroine. Then, when she reached midships and the foremost fiend was almost upon her, the mightiest of all the billows descended and swept her off into the cruel wate

an instant to the camera and its agony was illumined. Then the dread waters closed above her. The director's whistle blew, the waves were

t even help her to climb out. At least no one else had appeared to do this. Seemingly no one now cared where Miss Baxter swam to or whether she were offered any assistance in landing. She swam with an admirable crawl stroke, reached the wa

threw a blanket about the star's shoulders as she hovered above the glowing coals. Merton had waited for her voice. He might still

re he'd have it warmed but I'm here to say

uld hardly expect his heroine's own musical clearness. Then as the girl spoke again something stirred among his more recent memories. The voice was still hoarse, b

Swore he'd put the steam into that water and take off the chill. And he never." She threw aside

tle glow, anyhow. Wha'd

e felt. He believed now that Miss Baxter would have done it much better. He ventured a question.

hat water? Quit

e at all-won't she

af around on the set when she's payi

more of the girl's nonsense, and a blasphe

ll the lot she hasn't found any one yet that ca

e never allowed any one to double f

I been on the lot a year and a half. Say, he ought to see some the stuff you done for her out on location, like jumpin' into the locomotive engine from your auto and catchin' the brake beams when the trai

elf." Very wonderfully Merton Gill divined that this was said with a hu

cool million dollars. And that chase stuff on the roofs down town where you jumped across that court that wa

don't really hate to talk about myself-that's on the level. And s

and get me about two quarts of that hot coffee and about four

aimed Jimmie

ly cared to know, now, if Beulah Baxter were married. It was the Montague girl who had most thrilled him for two y

nk you'd know it from the way that

is

er husband, of course-h

of the wonder-woman, the man he had supposed she must find intolerable even as a director. It was unthinka

lo Bill. In fact, he's all right in spite of his rough ways. He'd go farther for you than most of the men on this lot. If I wanted a favour I'd go to

swered, not know

talking, you seem kind of up against it. Where's yo

s Montague!" The di

olds of her blanket and sped around the pool to disappear in the mazes of the scaffolding

yed a double at critical junctures. "She'd be a fool not to," the Montague girl had said. And in private

under the first shock of his discoveries he was now sorry. Beulah Baxter was no longer his wonder-woman. S