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Tales of the Old West: B. M. Bower Collection - 45 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). B. M. Bower
Читать онлайн.Название Tales of the Old West: B. M. Bower Collection - 45 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition)
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9788027220229
Автор произведения B. M. Bower
Издательство Bookwire
“Not get it—no.” Luck unfolded his napkin with fingers that shook a little. “I was offered it, but I’m not going to take it.”
“Not—why, Luck Lindsay!” Rosemary very nearly dropped her new percolator.
“Y’ ain’t?”
“Aw, gwan! Only reason I wouldn’t take two hundred a week would be because I’d drop dead at the chance and couldn’t.”
“Well, listen. There’s one point that hasn’t spilled into studio gossip yet,” Luck managed to slip into the uproar. “I didn’t take the place. There were some details we couldn’t get together on, so I thanked him and turned it down.”
There was silence, while the Happy Family stared at him.
“What dee-tails was them?” Big Medicine demanded belligerently. “Way I heard it—”
“Studio gossip,” Luck interrupted hastily. “You can’t depend on anything you hear passed around amongst the extras. We failed to agree on certain technical details. I haven’t any more job than a jack rabbit; let it go at that. What have you fellows been doing?”
“Us? Why, the Acme’s goin’ to give us absent, treatment from now on,” Andy stated cheerfully. “They’re paying us thirty a week apiece to stay away from ‘em—and I sure never earned money easier than that. Clements is going to take orders from that so-called author, and he told me straight out that they’ll be using actors in those stories.”
“They’ll need ‘em,” Luck commented drily. “You’re in luck that they don’t want you to work. Any other news?”
“You bet they’s other news!” roared Big Medicine, goggling across the table at Luck. “I rustled me a job, by cripes! Soon as this rain’s over, I’m goin’ to cash in my face fer two dollars a day with the Sunset. Feller over there wants me bad fer atmosphere in a pitcher he’s goin’ to make of the Figy Islands. Feller claims he can clothe me in a nigger wig and a handful of grass and get more atmosphere, by cripes, to the square inch—”
Rosemary gasped and bolted for the kitchen. When she came back, red-faced and still gurgling spasmodically, Pink was relating his experiences with another company. He and the Native Son and Weary, it transpired, were duly enrolled upon the extra list and were reasonably sure of a day’s work now and then. Rosemary had paid her Japanese maid and let her go, and Andy was going to help her with the housework until the industrial problem was solved. She listened for a minute and then made a suggestion of her own.
“We’re all in the same boat,” she said, “and by just sticking together, I know we’ll come out swimmingly. Why don’t you leave the hotel, and come out here and batch with us, Luck? It would be so much cheaper; and I can turn that couch in the kitchen into a bed, easy as anything. I’d like to shake that Great Western Company for acting the way they have with you. Think of offering a man a two-hundred-a-week position and then haggling—”
“Say, Luck,” the dried little man spoke up suddenly, “how much does one of them there camaries cost? I’d be willin’ to chip in and help buy one; and, by gorry, we could make some movin’ pitchers of our own and sell ‘em, if we caji’t do no better.” He craned his neck and peered the length of the table at Luck. “Ain’t no law ag’in it, is there?” he challenged.
“No, there’s no law against it.” Luck closed his lips against further comment. The idea was like a sudden blow upon the door of his imagination.
The Happy Family looked at one another inquiringly. They had never thought of doing anything like that. The dried little man may have meditated much upon the subject, but he certainly had not given a hint of it to any of them.
“Oh, why couldn’t you boys do that?” Rosemary exclaimed breathlessly.
Luck stirred his coffee carefully and did not look up. “Don’t run away with the idea that you can buy a camera for twenty or thirty dollars,” he quelled. “A camera, complete with tripod, lenses, magazines, and cases, would cost about fourteen hundred dollars—at least.”
That, as he had expected it to do, rather feazed the Happy Family for a few minutes. They became interested in the food they were eating, and their eyes did not stray far from their plates.
“I can ante two hundred,” Weary remarked at last with elaborate carelessness, reaching for more butter.
“See yuh and raise yuh fifty,” Andy Green retorted briskly. “I’ve got a wife that’s learning me to save money.”
“You can count my chips for all I got.” Pink’s dimples showed briefly. “I’ll go through my pockets when I get filled up, and see how rich I am. But, anyway, there’s a couple of hundred I know I’ve got,—counting Acme handouts and all.”
“We-ell—” the dried little man laid down his fork to rub his chin thoughtfully, “I never had much call to spend money in Sioux, North-Dakoty. I batched and lived savin’. I can put in half of that fourteen hundred—mebby a little mite more.”
“Well, by cripes, I got a boy t’ look out fer, and I ain’t rich as some, but all I got goes in the pot!” cried Big Medicine impulsively.
Luck leaned back in his chair and regarded the flushed faces enigmatically. “This is all good material for an argument on our financial standing,” he said, “but if you’re taking yourselves seriously, let me tell you something before you go any farther. Buying a camera is only a starter. Besides, I wouldn’t play with little stuff and compete with these big, established companies releasing on regular programs. Say, for the sake of argument, that we cooperate and go into this; all I’d handle would be features,—State’s rights stuff. (Make big four-or-five reelers, and sell the rights in as many States as possible; that’s what it amounts to.) But it isn’t a thing to play with, boys. Let’s do our joking about something else.”
Rosemary set her two elbows upon the table, clasped her hands together, and dropped her chin upon them so that she was looking at Luck from under her eyebrows. That pose meant determination and an argumentative mood.
“I’ve been doing a little mental arithmetic,” she began. “Also I’ve done a little thinking. I know now what spoiled that Great Western offer for you, Luck Lindsay. It was because they wouldn’t take the boys too. And you turned it down because you—oh, they’re the ‘technical details,’ young man! You see? Your eyes give you away. I knew it, once the idea popped into my head. What do you think of a fellow like that, boys? Refused a two-hundred-a-week position because he couldn’t get you fellows a job too.”
“That two hundred seems to worry you a good deal,” Luck muttered, crimson to his collar.
“Now don’t interrupt, because I shall keep right on talking just the same. I’ve a lot more to say. Do you realize that the donations these boys have made already amounts to over fifteen hundred dollars? And that does not include Happy Jack or Miguel, because they haven’t—”
“Aw, gwan! I never had a chanct to git a word in edgeways,” Happy hurriedly defended his seeming parsimony. “I’m willin’ to chip in.”
“Well, the point is this: Why not all put in what you can, and just go out where there are cattle, and make your Big Picture, Luck Lindsay? We could live in the country cheaper than we can here: and there wouldn’t be anything to buy but grub,—just a bag of beans and some flour and coffee. I’d be willing to starve for the sake of making that Big Picture!”
“By gracious, there’s our transportation money, too!” Andy broke another short silence. “Three hundred and fifty, right there in a lump.”
“Let it stay transportation money, too!” Rosemary advised quickly. “It can transport you fellows to where Luck wants to make his picture.”
They waited then