by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER EIGHT
"THERE'S GOT TO BE A LINE DRAWED SOMEWHERES"
By seven o'clock in the morning,--since that was his ultimatum,--Luckwas standing in his bare feet and pajamas, acrimoniously arguing withMartinson over the telephone. Usually he was up at six, but he was astubborn young man, and the day promised much rainfall, anyway. Hewould have preferred sunshine; the stand he meant to take would havehad more weight in working weather. But since he could not prevent themorning from being a rainy one, he permitted more determination to slipinto his tones.
Martinson had spent an unpleasant evening with Bently Brown, or so hedeclared. He had called up several stockholders of the Acme, and hadtalked the matter over with them, and--
"Well, cut the preamble, Mart," snapped Luck, trying to warm one foot byrubbing it with the other one. "Do I go on with the work, or don't I?"
"From the looks of the weather--" Mart began to temporize.
"Weather cuts no figure with this matter. You know what I mean. What'sthe decision?" Luck scowled at the pretty girl on his wall calendar, andbegan to rub his right foot with the left and to curse the janitor withthat part of his brain not occupied with the conversation.
"Well, listen. You come out to the office, after awhile, and we'll gointo this matter calmly," begged Martinson. "No use in letting thattemper of yours run away with you, Luck. You know we all--"
"What did Bently Brown say? Did you put the proposition up to him as Isuggested?"
"Luck, you know I told you Brown wouldn't consider--"
"Say, Mart, get all those rambling words out of your system, and thencall me up and tell me what I want to know!" And Luck hung up thereceiver and went shivering back to bed. From the things he said tohimself, he was letting that temper of his run away with him in spite ofMartinson's warning.
He had just ceased having spasms of shivering, and had found his warmnest of the night, and was feeling glad that it was raining so that hecould stay in bed as long as he liked, when the phone jingled shrillyagain. Had he been certain that it was Martinson, Luck would have lainthere and let it ring itself tired. But there is always the doubt when atelephone bell calls peremptorily. He waited sulkily until the girl atthe switchboard in the office below settled down to prolong the siege.Luck knew that girl would never quit now that she was sure he was in. Hecrawled out again, this time dragging the bedspread with him for drapery.
"H'l-lo!" There was no compromise in his voice, which was guttural.
"Luck? This is Martinson. You are to retake all of the Bently Brownpictures which you have made so far, under the personal supervision ofBently Brown himself, who will pass upon all film before accepted by thecompany. This is final."
"Martinson? This is Luck. You and Bently Brown and the Acme Film Companycan go where the heat's never turned off. This is final."
Whereupon Luck slammed the receiver into its brackets, trailed over to atable and gleaned "the makings" from among the litter of papers,programs, "stills," and letters, and rolled himself a much-needed smoke.He was sorry chiefly because he had been compelled to use such mildlanguage over the telephone. It would be almost worth a trip to theoffice just to tell Martinson without stint what he thought of him andall his works.
He crawled back into bed and smoked his cigarette with due regard for thebedclothes, and wondered what kind of a fool they took him for if theyimagined for one minute that he would produce so much as a sub-titleunder the personal supervision of Bently Brown.
After awhile it occurred to him that, unless he relented from his finalstatement to Martinson, he was a young man out of a job, but that did notworry him much. Of course, if he left the Acme Company, he would have tolook around for an opening somewhere else, where he could take his HappyFamily and maybe produce....
Right there Luck got up and unlocked his trunk, which was also his chestof treasures, and found the carbon copy of his range scenario. He hadnot named it yet. In thinking of it and in talking about it with theboys he had been content to call it his Big Picture. If he could placehimself and his Big Picture and his boys with some company that wouldappreciate the value of the combination, his rupture with the AcmeCompany would be simply a bit of good luck. While he huddled close tothe radiator that was beginning to hiss and rumble encouragingly, heglanced rapidly over the meagerly described scenes which were to hisimagination so full of color.
"Pam. bleak mesa--snow--cattle drifting before wind. Dale and Johnny dis.riding to foreground. Reg. cold--horses leg-weary--boys all in--"
To Luck, sitting there in his pajamas as close as he could get to aslow-warming steam radiator, those curtailed sentences projected hismental self into a land of cold and snow and biting wind, where thecattle drifted dismally before the storm. Andy Green and Miguel Rapponiwere riding slowly toward him on shuffling horses as bone-weary as theirmasters. Snow was packed in the wrinkles of the boys' clothing. Snow waspacked in the manes and tails of the horses that moved with their headsdrooping in utter dejection. "Boys all in," said the script laconically.Luck, staring at the little thread of escaping steam from the radiatorvalve, saw Andy and the Native Son drooping in the saddles, swayingstiffly with the movements of their mounts. He saw them to the lastlittle detail,--to the drift of snow on their hatbrims and the tinyicicles clinging to the high collars of their sourdough coats, wheretheir breath had frozen.
If he could get a company to let him put that on, he would not care, hetold himself, if he never made another picture in his life. If he couldget a company to send him and the boys where that stuff could be found--
Well, it was only eight o'clock in the morning, a rainy morning at that,when all good movie people would lie late in bed for the pure luxury oftaking their ease. But Luck, besides acting upon strong convictions andthen paying the price without whimpering, never let an impulse grow stalefrom want of use. He reached for the fat telephone directory and searchedout the numbers of those motion-picture companies which he did notremember readily. Then, beginning at the first number on his hastilycompiled list, he woke five different managers out of their preciouseight-o'clock sleep to answer his questions.
Whatever they may have thought of Luck Lindsay just then, they repliedpolitely, and did not tell him offhand that there was no possible openingfor him in their companies. Three of them made appointments with him attheir offices. One promised to call him up just as soon as he "had a lineon anything." One said that, with the rainy weather coming on, they werecutting down to straight studio stuff, but that he would keep Luck inmind if anything turned up.
Then I suppose the whole five called him names behind his back,figuratively speaking, for being such an early riser on such a day. Notone of them asked him any questions about his reasons for leaving theAcme; reasons, in the motion-picture business, are generally inventedupon demand and have but a fictitious value at best. And since it isnever a matter of surprise when any director or any member of any companydecides to try a new field, it would seem that change is one of the mostunchanging features of the business.
Luck had no qualms of conscience, either for his treatment of Martinsonand his overtures, or for his disturbances of five other perfectlyinoffensive movie managers. He dressed with mechanical precision and withhis mind shuttling back and forth from his Big Picture to thepossibilities of his next position. He folded his scenario and placed itin a long envelope, hunted until he found his rubbers, took his raincoatover his arm and his umbrella in his hand, and went blithely to theelevator. It was too stormy for his machine, so he caught a street carand went straight to the bungalow where the Happy Family were stillsnoring at peace with the world and each other.
Still Luck had no qualms of conscience. He lingered in the kitchen justlong enough to say howdy to Rosemary Green who was anxiously watching anew and much admired coffee percolator "to see if it were going to perk,"she told him gravely. He assured Rosemary that he had come all the wayout there in the hope of being invited to breakfast. Then he went into asleep-charged atmosphere and gave a real, old-
time range yell.
"Why, I saw that peaked little person with Mr. Martinson," Mrs. Andyremarked slightingly at the breakfast table. "Was that Bently Brown?And he has the nerve to want to stand around and boss you--oh, find, mean umbrella, somebody! I shall choke if I can't go and tell him to hissilly, pink face what a conceited little idiot he is!" (You will seewhy it was that Rosemary Green had been adopted without question as amember of the Happy Family.) "I hope you told him straight out, LuckLindsay, that these boys would simply tear him limb from limb if heever dared to butt in on your work. Why, it's you that made the picturefit to look at!"
Luck let his eyes thank her for her loyalty, and held out his empty cupfor more coffee. "I came out," he drawled quietly, "to find out what youfellows are going to do about it. Of course, they'll get somebody else togo ahead with the stuff, and you boys can stay with it--"
"Well, say! Did you come away out here in the rain to insult us fellers?"Big Medicine roared suddenly from the foot of the table. "I'll take a lotfrom you, but by cripes they's got to be a line drawed somewheres!"
"You bet. And right there's where we draw it, Luck," spoke up the driedlittle man who seldom spoke at the table, but concentrated his attentionupon the joy of eating what Mrs. Andy set before him. "I come out hereto work for you. That peters out, by gorry I'll go back to chufferin abaggage truck in Sioux, North Dakoty. Kin I have a drop more coffee,Mrs. Green?"
While Rosemary proudly brought her new percolator in from the kitchen andrefilled his cup, Luck Lindsay sat and endured the greatesttongue-lashing of his life. Furthermore, he seemed to enjoy the chorus ofreproaches and threats and recriminations. He chuckled over the eloquenceof Andy Green, and he grinned at the belligerence of Pink and themelancholy of Happy Jack.
"I don't guess you're crazy to work under Bently Brown," he finallymanaged to slide into the uproar. "Do I get you as meaning to stick withme--wherever I go?"
"You get us that way or you get licked," Weary, the mild-tempered one,stated flatly. "You can fire us and send us home, but you can't walk offand leave us with the Acme, 'cause we won't stay."
That was what Luck had ridden twelve cold, rainy miles to hear the HappyFamily declare. He had expected them to take that stand, but it was goodto hear it spoken in just that tone of finality. He stacked his cup andsaucer in his plate, laid his knife and fork across them in the old rangestyle, and began to roll a cigarette,--smoking at the table being anothercomfortable little bad habit which Rosemary Green wisely and smilinglypermitted.
"That being the case," he began cheerfully, "you boys had best go overwith me now and give in your two weeks' notice. I'm director of ourcompany till I quit--see? I'll arrange for your transportation home--"
"Aw, gwan! Who said we was goin' home?" wailed Happy Jack distressfully.
"Now, listen! You're entitled to your transportation money. That doesn'tmean you'll have to use it for that purpose--sabe? It's coming to you,and you get it. There's a week's salary due all around, too, besides thetwo weeks you'll get by giving notice. No use passing up any bets likethat. So let's go, boys. I've got an appointment at one o'clock, and Imay as well wipe the Acme slate clean this forenoon, so I can talkbusiness without any come-back from Mart, or any tag ends to pick up.Grab your slickers and let's move."
That was a busy day for Luck Lindsay, in spite of the fact that it was astormy one. His interview with Mart, which he endured mostly for the sakeof the Happy Family, developed into a quarrel which severed beyondmending his connection with the Acme.
It was noon when he reached his hotel, and his wrath had not cooled withthe trip into town. There were two 'phone calls in his mail, hediscovered, and one bore an urgent request that he call Hollywoodsomething-or-other the moment he returned. This was from the GreatWestern Film Company, and Luck's eyes brightened while he read it. Hewent straight to his room and called up the Great Western.
Presently he found himself speaking to the great Dewitt himself, and hisblood was racing with the possibilities of the interview. Dewitt hadheard that Luck was leaving the Acme--extras may be depended upon forcarrying gossip from one studio to another,--and was wasting no time inoffering him a position. His Western director, Robert Grant Burns whomLuck knew well, had been carried to the hospital with typhoid fever whichhe had contracted while out with his company in what is known as NiggerSloughs,--a locality more picturesque than healthful. Dewitt feared thatit was going to be a long illness at the very best. Would Luck considertaking the company and going on with the big five-reel feature whichBurns had just begun? Dewitt was prepared to offer special inducementsand to make the position a permanent one. He would give Burns a dramaticcompany to produce features at the studio, he said, and would give Luckthe privilege of choosing his own scenarios and producing them in his ownway. Could Luck arrange to meet Dewitt at four that afternoon?
Luck could, by cancelling his appointment with a smaller and lessimportant company, which he did promptly and with no compunctionswhatever. He did more than that; he postponed the other two appointments,knowing in his heart that his chances would not be lessened thereby.After that he built a castle or two while he waited for the appointment.The Great Western Company had been a step higher than he had hoped toreach. Robert Grant Burns he had considered a fixture with the company.It had never entered his mind that he might possibly land within theGreat Western's high concrete wall,--and that other wall which was higherand had fewer gates, and which was invisible withal. That the greatDewitt himself should seek Luck out was just a bit staggering. He wantedto go out and tell the bunch about it, but he decided to wait untileverything was settled. Most of all he wanted the Acme to know thatDewitt wanted him; that would be a real slap in the face of Mart'sjudgment, a vindication of Luck's abilities as a director.
What Luck did was to telephone the hospital and learn all he could aboutBurns' condition. He was genuinely sorry that Burns was sick, even thoughhe was mightily proud of being chosen as Burns' successor. He even foundhimself thinking more about Burns, after the first inner excitement woreitself out, than about himself. Burns was a good old scout. Luck hated tothink of him lying helpless in the grip of typhoid. So it was with mixedemotions that he went to see Dewitt.
Dewitt wanted Luck--wanted him badly. He was frank enough to let Luck seehow much he wanted him. He even told Luck that, all things being equal,he considered Luck a better Western director than was Robert Grant Burns,in spite of the fact that Burns had scored a big success with his _Jean,of the Lazy A_ serial. You cannot wonder that Luck's spirits rose tobuoyancy when he heard that. Also, Dewitt named a salary bigger than Luckhad ever received in his life, and nearly double what the Acme had paidhim. Luck spoke of his Big Picture, and when he outlined it briefly,Dewitt did not say that it seemed to lack action.
Dewitt had watched Luck with his keen blue eyes, and had observed thatLuck owned that priceless element of success, which is enthusiasm for hiswork. Dewitt had listened, and had told Luck that he would like to seethe Big Picture go on the screen, and that he would be willing to pay himfor the scenario and let him make it where and how he pleased. He evenvolunteered to try and persuade Jean Douglas, of _Lazy A_ fame, to comeback and play the leading woman's part.
"That's one thing that has been bothering me a little," Luck ownedgratefully. "Of course I considered her absolutely out of reach. But withher for my leading woman, and the boys holding up the range end asthey're capable of doing--"
Dewitt gave him a quick look. "Yes, my boys are able to do that," he saiddistinctly. "They have been well trained in Western dramatic work."
Luck braced himself. "When I mentioned the boys," he said, "I meantmy boys that I brought from the Flying U outfit, up in Montana. Theygo with me."
Dewitt did not answer that statement immediately. He inspected his fingernails thoughtfully before he glanced up. "It's a pity, but I'm afraidthat cannot be managed, Mr. Lindsay. The boys in my Western company havebeen with me, some of them, since the Independent Sales Company wasorganized. They worked for n
ext to nothing till I got things started. Twoor three are under contracts. You will understand me when I say that myboys must stay where they are." He waited for a minute, and watchedLuck's face grow sober. "I have heard about your Happy Family," he added."There has been a good deal of discussion, I imagine, among the studiosabout them. Ordinarily I should be glad to have you bring those boys withyou; but as matters stand, it is impossible. Our Western Company is full,and I could not let these boys go to make room for strangers,--howevergood those strangers might be. You understand?"
"Certainly I understand." But Luck's face did not brighten.
"Can't they stay on with the Acme? From what I hear, the Acme's WesternCompany is not large at best."
"They can stay, yes. But they won't. The whole bunch gave in theirtwo weeks' notice this morning." There was a grim satisfaction inLuck's tone.
"Left when you did, I suppose?"
"That's just exactly what they did. I told them they better stay, andthey nearly lynched me for it."
"Have you made any agreement with them in regard to placing them withanother company--for instance?"
"Certainly not. Some things don't have to be set down in black andwhite."
"I--see." Dewitt did see. What he saw worried him, even though itincreased his respect for Luck Lindsay. He studied his nails morecritically than before.
"These boys--have they any resources at all, other than their work inpictures? Did they burn their bridges when they came with you?"
"Oh, far as that goes, they've all got ranches. They wouldn't starve."Luck's voice was inclined to gruffness under quizzing.
"As I see the situation," Dewitt went on evenly and with a logic thatmade Luck squirm with its very truthfulness, "they left their ranches andcame with you to work in pictures in a spirit of adventure, we might say.There is a glamour; and your personal influence, your enthusiasm, had itseffect. Should they go back to their ranches now, they would carry back afresh outlook and a fund of experiences that would season conversationagreeably for months to come. They will not have lost financially, I takeit. They will have had a vacation which has in many ways been aprofitable one. Should the question be laid before them, I venture theassertion that they would urge you to take this position with us.
"They would feel some disappointment of course--just as you would feelsorry not to be able to bring them with you. But no reasonable man wouldblame you or expect you to bear the handicap of six or seveninexperienced young fellows. You must see that your only hope of placingthem would be with some new company just starting up. And this is not theseason for young companies. Next spring you might stand a better chance."
"Yes, that's all true enough," Luck admitted, since Dewitt plainlyexpected some reply. "At the same time--"
"There is no immediate need of a decision," Dewitt hastily completedLuck's sentence. "From all weather reports, this storm is going to be along one. I doubt very much if you could get to work for several days.I wish you would think it over from all sides before you accept orrefuse the proposition, Mr. Lindsay. Lay the matter before your boys;tell them frankly just how things stand. I'll guarantee they willinsist upon your accepting the position. I know, and you know, that itwill give you a better opportunity than you have had in some time. AndI am going to say candidly that I believe you need only the opportunityto make your work stand out above all the others. That is why I sentfor you this morning. I believe you have big possibilities, and I wantyou with the Great Western."
There was that instant of silence which terminates all conferences. ThenLuck rose, and Dewitt tilted back his office chair and swung it away fromthe desk so that he was still facing Luck. So the two looked at eachother measuringly for a moment.
"I certainly appreciate your good opinion of me, Mr. Dewitt," Luck said."Whether I take the place or not, I want to thank you for offering it tome. It all looks fine--the chance of my life; but I can't--"
"No, don't say any more." Dewitt raised his hand. "You do as Isuggest; tell the boys just what has passed, if you like. Let themdecide for you."
"No, that wouldn't be fair. They'd decide for my interests and forgetabout their own. I know that."
"Well, let's just wait a day or two. You think it over. Think what youcould do with Jean Douglas, for instance. I'll try and get her back; Ithink perhaps I can. She's married, but I think they'll both come if Imake it worth their while. Come and see me day after to-morrow, will you?We'll say four o'clock again. Good-by."
So Luck went away with temptation whispering in his ear.
