Jean of the Lazy A
CHAPTER XII
TO "DOUBLE" FOR MURIEL GAY
While she breakfasted unsatisfactorily upon soda crackers and a bottleof olives which happened to have been left over from a previousluncheon, Jean meditated deeply upon the proper beginning of a book.The memory of last night came to her vividly, and she smiled while shefished with a pair of scissors for an olive. She would start the bookoff weirdly with mysterious sounds in an empty room. That, she argued,should fix firmly the interest of the reader right at the start.
By the time she had fished the olive from the bottle, however, herthoughts swung from the artistic to the material aspect of thosemysterious footsteps. What had the man wanted or expected to find?She set down the olive bottle impulsively and went out and around tothe kitchen door and opened it. In spite of herself, she shuddered asshe went in, and she walked close to the wall until she was well pastthe brown stain on the floor. She went to the old-fashioned cupboardand examined the contents of the drawers and looked into a cigar-boxwhich stood open upon the top. She went into her father's bedroom andlooked through everything, which did not take long, since the room hadlittle left in it. She went into the living-room, also depressinglydusty and forlorn, but try as she would to think of some article thatmight have been left there and was now wanted by some one, she couldimagine no reason whatever for that nocturnal visit. At the same time,there must have been a reason. Men of that country did not ride abroadduring the still hours of the night just for the love of riding. Mostof them went to bed at dark and slept until dawn.
She went out, intending to go back to her literary endeavors; if shenever started that book, certainly it would never make her rich, andshe would never be able to make war upon circumstances. She thought ofher father with a twinge of remorse because she had wasted so much timethis morning, and she scarcely glanced toward the picture-people downby the corrals, so she did not see that Robert Grant Burns turned tolook at her and then started hurriedly up the path to the house.
"Say," he called, just before she disappeared around the corner. "Waita minute. I want to talk to you."
Jean waited, and the fat man came up breathing hard because of hishaste in the growing heat of the forenoon.
"Say, I'd like to use you in a few scenes," he began abruptly when hereached her. "Gay can't put over the stuff I want; and I'd like tohave you double for her in some riding and roping scenes. You're aboutthe same size and build, and I'll get you a blond wig for close-ups,like that saddling scene. I believe you've got it in you to make goodon the screen; anyway, the practice you'll get doubling for Gay won'tdo you any harm."
Jean looked at him, tempted to consent for the fun there would be init. "I'd like to," she told him after a little silence. "I reallywould love it. But I've got some work that I must do."
"Let the work wait," urged Burns, relieved because she showed noresentment against the proposal. "I want to get this picture made.It's going to be a hummer. There's punch to it, or there will be, if--"
"But you see," Jean's drawl slipped across his eager, domineeringvoice, "I have to earn some money, lots of it. There's something Ineed it for. It's--important."
"You'll earn money at this," he told her bluntly. "You didn't think I'dask you to work for nothing, I hope. I ain't that cheap. It's likethis: If you'll work in this picture and put over what I want, it'llbe feature stuff. I'll pay accordingly. Of course, I can't say justhow much,--this is just a try-out; you understand that. But if you candeliver the goods, I'll see that you get treated right. Some producersmight play the cheap game just because you're green; but I ain't thatkind, and my company ain't that kind. I'm out after results."Involuntarily his eyes turned toward the bluff. "There's a ride downthe bluff that I want, and a roping--say, can you throw a rope?"
Jean laughed. "Lite Avery says I can," she told him, "and Lite Averycan almost write his name in the air with a rope."
"If you can make that dash down the bluff, and do the roping I want,why--Lord! You'll have to be working a gold mine to beat what I'd bewilling to pay for the stuff."
"There's no place here in the coulee where you can ride down thebluff," Jean informed him, "except back of the house, and that's out ofsight. Farther over there's a kind of trail that a good horse canhandle. I came down it on a run, once, with Pard. A man was drowning,over here in the creek, and I was up on the bluff and happened to seehim and his horse turn over,--it was during the high water. So I madea run down off the point, and got to him in time to rope him out. Youmight use that trail."
Robert Grant Burns stood and stared at her as though he did not see herat all. In truth, he was seeing with his professional eyes a pictureof that dash down the bluff. He was seeing a "close-up" of Jeanwhirling her loop and lassoing the drowning man just as he had given uphope and was going under for the third time. Lee Milligan was thedrowning man! and the agony of his eyes, and the tenseness of Jean'sface, made Robert Grant Burns draw a long breath.
"Lord, what feature-stuff that would make!" he said under his breath."I'll write a scenario around that rescue scene." Whereupon he caughthimself. It is not well for a director to permit his enthusiasm tocarry him into injudicious speech. He chuckled to hide his eagerness."Well, you can show me that location," he said, "and we'll get to work.You'll have to use the sorrel, of course; but I guess he'll be allright. This saddling scene will have to wait till I send for a wig.You can change clothes with Miss Gay and get by all right at adistance, just as you are. A little make-up, maybe; she'll fix that.Come on, let's get to work. And don't worry about the salary; I'lltell you to-night what it'll be, after I see you work."
When he was in that mood, Robert Grant Burns swept everything beforehim. He swept Jean into his plans before she had really made up hermind whether to accept his offer or stick to her literary efforts. Hehad Muriel Gay up at the house and preparing to change clothes withJean, and he had Lee Milligan started for town in the machine with thekey to Burns' emergency wardrobe trunk, before Jean realized that shewas actually going to do things for the camera to make into a picture.
"I'm glad you are going to double in that ride down the bluff, anyway,"Muriel declared, while she blacked Jean's brows and put shadows aroundher eyes. "I could have done it, of course; but mamma is so nervousabout my getting hurt that I hate to do anything risky like that. Itupsets her for days."
"There isn't much risk in riding down the bluff," said Jean carelessly."Not if you've got a good horse. I wonder if that sorrel is rope broke.Have you ever roped off him?"
"No," said Muriel, "I haven't." She might have added that she neverroped off any horse, but she did not.
"I'll have to try him out and see what he's like, before I try to ropefor a picture. I wonder if there'll be time now?" Jean was pleasantlyexcited over this new turn of events. She had dreamed of doing manythings, but never of helping to make moving pictures. She was eager andfull of curiosity, like a child invited to play a new and fascinatinggame, and she kept wondering what Lite would have to say about herposing for moving pictures. Try to stop her, probably,--and fail, asusual!
When she went out to where the others were grouped in the shade, shegave no sign of any inner excitement or perturbation. She wentstraight up to Burns and waited for his verdict.
"Do I look like Miss Gay?" she drawled.
The keen eyes of Burns half closed while he studied her.
"No, I can't say that you do," he said after a moment. "Walk offtoward the corrals,--and, say! Mount the sorrel and start off like youwere in a deuce of a hurry. That'll be one scene, and I'd like to seehow you do it when you can have your own way about it, and how close upwe can make it and have you pass for Gay."
"How far shall I ride?" Jean's eyes had a betraying light of interest.
"Oh--to the gate, maybe. Can you get a long shot down the trail to thegate, Pete, and keep skyline in the scene?"
Pete moved the camera, fussed and squinted, and then nodded his head."Sure, I can. But you'll ha
ve to make it right away, or else wait tillto-morrow. The sun's getting around pretty well in front."
"We'll take it right after this rehearsal, if the girl can put thestuff over right," Burns muttered. "And she can, or I'm badlymistaken. Pete, that girl's--" He stopped short, because the shadow ofLee Milligan was moving up to them. "All right, Miss--say, what's yourname, anyway?" He was told, and went on briskly. "Miss Douglas, juststart from off that way,--about where that round rock is. You'll comeinto the scene a little beyond. Hurry straight up to the sorrel andmount and ride off. Your lover is going to be trapped by the bandits,and you've just heard it and are hurrying to save him. Get the idea?Now let's see you do it."
"You don't want me to sob, do you?" Jean looked over her shoulder toinquire. "Because if I were going to save my lover, I don't believeI'd want to waste time weeping around all over the place."
Burns chuckled. "You can cut out the sob," he permitted. "Just goahead like it was real stuff."
Jean was standing by the rock, ready to start. She looked at Burnsspeculatively. "Oh, well, if it were real, I'd run!"
"Go ahead and run then!" Burns commanded.
Run she did, and startled the sorrel so that it took quick work tocatch him.
"Camera! She might not do it like that again, ever!" cried Burns.
She was up in the saddle and gone in a flurry of dusts while RobertGrant Burns stood with his hands on his hips and watched her gloatingly.
"Lord! But that girl's a find!" he ejaculated, and this time he didnot seem to care who heard him. He cut the scene just as Jean pulledup at the gate. "See how she set that sorrel down on his haunches?" hechuckled to Pete. "Talk about feature-stuff; that girl will jump ourreleases up ten per cent., Pete, with the punches I can put into Gay'sparts now. How many feet was that scene, twenty-five?"
"Fifteen," corrected Pete. "And every foot with a punch in it. Toobad she's got to double for Gay. She's got the face for close-up work,believe me!"
To this tentative remark Robert Grant Burns made no reply whatever. Hewent off down the path to meet Jean, critically watching her approachto see how nearly she resembled Muriel Gay, and how close she couldcome to the camera without having the substitution betrayed upon thescreen. Muriel Gay was a leading woman with a certain assuredfollowing among movie audiences. Daring horsewomanship would greatlyincrease that following, and therefore the financial returns of theseWestern pictures. Burns was her director, and it was to his interestto build up her popularity. Since the idea first occurred to him,therefore, of using Jean as a substitute for Muriel in all the scenesthat required nerve and skill in riding, he looked upon her as a doublefor Muriel rather than from the viewpoint of her own individualpossibilities on the screen.
"I don't know about your hair," he told her, when she came up to himand stopped. "We'll run the negative to-night and see how it shows up.The rest of the scene was all right. I had Pete make it. I'm going totake some scenes down here by the gate, now, with the boys. I won'tneed you till after lunch, probably; then I'll have you make that ridedown off the bluff and some close-up rope work."
"I suppose I ought to ride over to the ranch," Jean said undecidedly."And I ought to try out this sorrel if you want me to use him. Wouldsome other day do just--"
"In the picture business," interrupted Robert Grant Burnsdictatorially, "the working-hours of an actor belong to the directorhe's working for. If I use you in pictures, your time will belong tome on the days when I use you. I'll expect you to be on hand when Iwant you; get that?"
"My time," said Jean resolutely, "will belong to you if I consider itworth my while to let you have it. Otherwise it will belong to me."
Burns chuckled. "Well, we might as well get down to brass tacks andhave things thoroughly understood," he decided. "I'll use you as anextra to double for Miss Gay where there's any riding stunts and so on.Miss Gay is a good actress, but she can't ride to amount to anything.With the clothes and make-up you--impersonate her. See what I mean?And for straight riding I'll pay you five dollars a day; five dollarsfor your time on the days that I want to use you. For any featurestuff, like that ride down the bluff, and the roping, and the like ofthat, it'll be more. Twenty-five dollars for feature-stuff, say, andfive dollars for straight riding. Get me?"
"I do, yes." Jean's drawl gave no hint of her inner elation at theprospect of earning so much money so easily. What, she wondered, wouldLite say to that?
"Well, that part's all right then. By feature-stuff, I mean anything Iwant you to do to put a punch in the story; anything from ridingbucking horses and shooting--say can you shoot?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Well, I'll have use for that, too, later on. The more stunts you canpull off, the bigger hits these pictures are going to make. You seethat, of course. And what I've offered you is a pretty good rate; but Iexpect to get results. I told you I wasn't any cheap John to work for.Now get this point, and get it right: I'll expect you to report to meevery morning here, at eight o'clock. I may need you that day and Imay not, but you're to be on hand. If I do need you, you get paid forthat day, whether it's one scene or twenty you're to work in. If Idon't need you that day, you don't get anything. That's what being anextra means. You start in to-day, and if you make the ride down thebluff, it'll be twenty-five to-day. But you can't go riding offsomewhere else, and maybe not be here when I want you. You're under myorders, like the rest of the company. Get that?"
"I'll try it for a week, anyway," she said. "Obeying your orders willbe the hardest part of it, Mr. Burns. I always want to stamp my footand say 'I won't' when any one tells me I must do something." Shelaughed infectiously. "You'll probably fire me before the week's out,"she prophesied. "I'll be as meek as possible, but if wequarrel,--well, you know how sweet-tempered I can be!"
Burns looked at her queerly and laughed. "I'll take a chance on that,"he said, and went chuckling back to the camera. To have a girlabsolutely ignore his position and authority, and treat him in thatoff-hand manner of equality was a new experience to Robert Grant Burns,terror among photo-players.
Jean went over to where Muriel and her mother were sitting in theshade, and asked Muriel if she would like to ride Pard out into theflat beyond the corrals, where she meant to try out the sorrel.
"I'd like to use you, anyway," she added frankly, "to practice on. Youcan ride past, you know, and let me rope you. Oh, it won't hurt you;and there'll be no risk at all," she hastened to assure the other, whenshe saw refusal in Muriel's eyes. "I'll not take any turns around thehorn, you know."
"I don't want Muriel taking risks like that," put in Mrs. Gay hastily."That's just why Burns is going to have you double for her. A leadingwoman can't afford to get hurt. Muriel, you stay here and rest whileyou have a chance. Goodness knows it's hard enough, at best, to workunder Burns."
Jean looked at her and turned away. So that was it--a leading womancould not afford to be hurt! Some one else, who didn't amount toanything, must take the risks. She had received her first littlelesson in this new business.
She went straight to Burns, interrupted him in coaching his chiefvillain for a scene, and asked him if he could spare a man for half anhour or so. "I want some one to throw a rope over on the run," sheexplained naively, "to try out this sorrel."
Burns regarded her somberly; he hated to be interrupted in his work.
"Ain't there anybody else you can rope?" he wanted to know. "Where'sGay?"
"'A leading woman,'" quoted Jean serenely, "'can't afford to get hurt!'"
Burns chuckled. He knew who was the author of that sentence; he hadheard it before. "Well, if you're as fatal as all that, I can't turnover my leading man for you to practice on, either," he pointed out toher. "What's the matter with a calf or something?"
"You won't let me ride out of your sight to round one up," Jeanretorted. "There are no calves handy; that's why I asked for a man."
Whereupon the villains looked at one another queerly, and
the chuckleof their director exploded into a full-lunged laugh.
"I'm going to use all these fellows in a couple of scenes," he toldher. "Can't you practice on a post?"
"_I_ don't have to practice. It's the sorrel I want to try out."Jean's voice lost a little of its habitual, soft drawl. Really, thesepicture-people did seem very dense upon some subjects!
"Well, now look here." Robert Grant Burns caught at the shreds of hisdomineering manner. "My part of this business is producing the scenes.You'll have to attend to the getting-ready part. You--you wouldn'texpect me to help you put on your make-up, would you?"
"No, now that I recognize your limitations, I shall not ask any helpwhich none of you are able or have the nerve to give," she returnedcoolly. "I wish I had Lite here; but I guess Pard and I can handle thesorrel ourselves. Sorry to have disturbed you."
Robert Grant Burns, his leading man and all his villains stood andwatched her walk away from them to the stable. They watched her leadPard out and turn him loose in the biggest corral. When they saw hertake her coiled rope, mount the sorrel and ride in, they went, in ahurried group, to where they might look into that corral. They watchedher pull the gate shut after her, lean from the saddle, and fasten thechain hook in its accustomed link. By the time she had widened herloop and turned to charge down upon unsuspecting Pard, Robert GrantBurns, his leading man and all his villains were lined up along thewidest space between the corral rails, and Pete Lowry was running overso as to miss none of the show.
"Oh, I thought you were all so terribly busy!" taunted Jean, while herloop was circling over her head. Pard wheeled just then upon his hindfeet, but the loop settled true over his head and drew tight againsthis shoulders.
The sorrel lunged and fought the rope, and snorted and reared. It tookfully two minutes for Jean to force him close enough to Pard so thatshe might flip off the loop. Pard himself caught the excitement andsnorted and galloped wildly round and round the enclosure, but Jean didnot mind that; what brought her lips so tightly together was theperformance of the sorrel. While she was coiling her rope, he wasmaking half-hearted buck jumps across the corral. When she swished therope through the air to widen her loop, he reared and whirled. Shejabbed him smartly with the spurs, and he kicked forward at her feet.
"Say," she drawled to Burns, "I don't know what sort of a pictureyou're going to make, but if you want any roping done from this horse,you'll have to furnish meals and beds for your audiences." With thatshe was off across the corral at a tearing pace that made the watchersgasp. The sorrel swung clear of the fence. He came near going down ina heap, but recovered himself after scrambling along on his knees.Jean brought him to a stand before Burns.
"I'll have to ask you to raise your price, Mr. Burns, if you want me torun this animal down the bluff," she stated firmly. "He's just what Ithought he was all along: a ride-around-the-block horse from somelivery stable. When it comes to range work, he doesn't know as muchas--"
"Some people. I get you," Burns cut in drily. "How about that horse ofyours? Would you be willing to let me have the use of him--at so muchper?"
"If I do the riding, yes. Now, since you're here, and don't seem asbusy as you thought you were, I'll show you the difference between thislivery-stable beast and a real rope-horse."
She dismounted and called to Pard, and Pard came to her, steppingwarily because of the sorrel and the rope. "Just to save time, willone of you boys go and bring my riding outfit from the stable?" sheasked the line at the fence, whereupon the leading man and all thevillains started unanimously to perform that slight service, whichshows pretty well how Jean stood in their estimation.
"Now, that's a real, typical, livery-stable saddle and bridle," sheobserved to Burns, pointing scornfully at the sorrel. "I was going totell you that I'd hate to be seen in a picture riding that outfit,anyway. Now, you watch how differently Pard behaves with a rope andeverything. And you watch the sorrel get what's coming to him. ShallI 'bust' him?"
"You mean throw him?" Burns, in his eagerness, began to climb thecorral fence,--until he heard a rail crack under his weight. "Yes,BUST him, if you want to. John Jimpson! if you can rope and throw thatsorrel--"
Jean did not reply to that half-finished sentence. She was busysaddling Pard; now she mounted and widened her loop with a sureness ofthe result that flashed a thrill of expectation to her audience. Twicethe loop circled over her head before she flipped it out straight andtrue toward the frantic sorrel as he surged by. She caught him fairlyby both front feet and swung Pard half away from him. Pard's musclesstiffened against the jerk of the rope, and the sorrel went down with abump. Pard backed knowingly and braced himself like the trainedrope-horse he was, and Jean looked at Robert Grant Burns and laughed.
"I didn't bust him," she disclaimed whimsically. "He done bustedhimself!" She touched Pard with her heel and rode up so that the ropeslackened, and she could throw off the loop. "Did you see how Pard sethimself?" she questioned eagerly. "I could have gotten off and goneclear away, and Pard would have kept that horse from getting on hisfeet. Now you see the difference, don't you? Pard never would havegone down like that."
"Oh, you'll do," chuckled Robert Grant Burns, "I'll pay you a littlemore and use you and your horse together. Call that settled. Come on,boys, let's get to work."