章节正文
"Well, it's easy enough to learn how to saddle a
horse," Jean told Muriel cheerfully. "First you want
to put on the bridle--"
"Burns told me to put on the saddle first; and then
he cuts the scene just as I pick up the bridle. The
trouble is to get the saddle on right, and then--that
latigo dope!"
"But you ought to bridle him first," Jean insisted.
"Supposing you just got the saddle on, and your horse
got startled and ran off? If you have the bridle on,
even if you haven't the reins, you can grab them when
he jumps."
"Well, that isn't the way Burns directed the scene
yesterday," Muriel Gay contended. "The scene ends
where I pick up the bridle."
"Then Robert Grant Burns doesn't know. I've seen
men put on the bridle last; but it's wrong. Lite Avery,
and everybody who knows--"
Muriel Gay looked at Jean with a weary impatience.
"What I have to do," she stated, "is what Burns tells
me to do. I should worry about it's being right or
wrong; I'm not the producer."
Jean faced her, frowning a little. Then she laughed,
hung the bridle back on the rusty spike, and took down
the saddle blanket. "We'll play I'm Robert Grant
Burns," she said. "I'll tell you what to do: Lay the
blanket on straight,--it's shaped to Pard's back, so that
ought to be easy,--with the front edge coming forward
to his withers; that's not right. Maybe I had better do
it first, and show you. Then you'll get the idea."
So Jean, with the best intention in the world, saddled
Pard, and wondered what there was about so simple a
process that need puzzle any one. When she had
tightened the cinch and looped up the latigo, and
explained to Muriel just what she was doing, she
immediately unsaddled him and laid the saddle down upon
its side, with the blanket folded once on top, and stepped
close to the manger.
"If your saddle isn't hanging up, that's the way it
should be put on the ground," she said. "Now you do
it. It's easy."
It was easy for Jean, but Muriel did not find it so
simple. Jean went through the whole performance a
second time, though she was beginning to feel that
nature had never fitted her for a teacher of young ladies.
Muriel, she began to suspect, rather resented the process
of being taught. In another minute Muriel confirmed
the suspicion.
"I think I've got it now," she said coolly. "Thank
you ever so much."
Robert Grant Burns returned then, and close behind
him rode Gil Huntley and those other desperados who
had helped to brand the calf that other day. Gil was
leading a little sorrel with a saddle on,--Muriel's horse
evidently. Jean had started back to the house and her
own affairs, but she lingered with a very human curiosity
to see what they were all going to do.
She did not know that Robert Grant Burns was perfectly
conscious of her presence even when he seemed
busiest, and was studying her covertly even when he
seemed not to notice her at all. Of his company, Pete
Lowry was the only one who did know it, but that was
because Pete himself was trained in the art of observation.
Pete also knew why Burns was watching Jean
and studying her slightest movement and expression;
and that was why Pete kept smiling that little, hidden
smile of his, while he made ready for the day's work
and explained to Jean the mechanical part of making
moving-pictures.
"I'd rather work with live things," said Jean after
a while. "But I can see where this must be rather
fascinating, too."
"This is working with live things, if anybody wants
to know," Pete declared. "Wait till you see Burns in
action; handling bronks is easy compared to--"
"About where does the side line come, Pete?" Burns
interrupted. "If Gil stands here and holds the horse
for that close-up saddling--" He whirled upon Gil
Huntley. "Lead that sorrel up here," he commanded.
"We'll have to cut off his head so the halter won't
show. Now, how's that?"
This was growing interesting. Jean backed to a
convenient pile of old corral posts and sat down to watch,
with her chin in her palms, and her mind weaving
shuttle-wise back and forth from one person to another,
fitting them all into the pattern which made the whole.
She watched Robert Grant Burns walking back and
forth, growling and chuckling by turns as things pleased
him or did not please him. She watched Muriel Gay
walk to a certain spot which Burns had previously
indicated, show sudden and uncalled-for fear and haste,
and go through a pantomime of throwing the saddle on
the sorrel.
She watched Lee Milligan carry the saddle up and
throw it down upon the ground, with skirts curled under
and stirrups sprawling.
"Oh, don't leave it that way," she remonstrated.
"Lay it on its side! You'll have the skirts kinked so
it never will set right."
Muriel Gay gasped and looked from her to Robert
Grant Burns. For betraying your country and your
flag is no crime at all compared with telling your
director what he must do.
"Bring that saddle over here," commanded Burns,
indicating another spot eighteen inches from the first.
"And don't slop it down like it was a bundle of old
clothes. Lay it on its side. How many times have I
got to tell you a thing before it soaks into your mind?"
Not by tone or look or manner did he betray any
knowledge that Jean had spoken, and Muriel decided
that he could not have heard.
Lee Milligan moved the saddle and placed it upon its
side, and Burns went to the camera and eyed the scene
critically for its photographic value. He fumbled
the script in his hands, cocked an eye upward at
the sun, stepped back, and gave a last glance to make
sure that nothing could be bettered by altering the detail.
"How's Gil; outside the line, Pete? All right.
Now, Miss Gay, remember, you're in a hurry, and
you're worried half to death. You've just time enough
to get there if you use every second. You were crying
when the letter-scene closed, and this is about five
minutes afterwards; you just had time enough to catch
your horse and lead him out here to saddle him. Register
a sob when you turn to pick up the saddle. You
ought to do this all right without rehearsing. Get into
the scene and start your action at the same time. Pete,
you pick it up just as she gets to the horse's shoulder
and starts to turn. Don't forget that sob, Gay.
Ready? Camera!"
Jean was absorbed, fascinated by this glimpse into a
new and very busy little world,--the world of moving-
picture makers. She leaned forward and watched every
moment, every little detail. "Grab the horn with your
right hand, Miss Gay!" she cried involuntarily, when
Muriel stooped and started to pick up the saddle.
"Don't--oh, it looks as if you were picking up a
wash-boiler! I told you--"
"Register that sob!" bawled Robert Grant Burns,
shooting a glance at Jean and stepping from one foot to
the other like a fat gobbler in fresh-fallen snow.
Muriel registered that sob and a couple more before
she succeeded in heaving the saddle upon the back of the
flinching sorrel. Because she took up the saddle by
horn and cantle instead of doing it as Jean had taught
her, she bungled its adjustment upon the horse's back.
Then the sorrel began to dance away from her, and
Robert Grant Burns swore under his breath.
"Stop the camera!" he barked and waddled irately
up to Muriel. "This," he observed ironically, "is
drama, Miss Gay. We are not making slap-stick
comedy to-day; and you needn't give an imitation of
boosting a barrel over a fence."
Tears that were real slipped down over the rouge
and grease paint on Muriel's cheeks. "Why don't you
make that girl stop butting in?" she flashed unexpectedly.
"I'm not accustomed to working under two directors!"
She registered another sob which the camera never got.
This brought Jean over to where she could lay her
hand contritely upon the girl's shoulder. "I'm
awfully sorry," she drawled with perfect sincerity.
"I didn't mean to rattle you; but you know you never
in the world could throw the stirrup over free, the way
you had hold of the saddle. I thought--"
Burns turned heavily around and looked at Jean, as
though he had something in his mind to say to her; but,
whatever that something may have been, he did not say
it. Jean looked at him questioningly and walked back
to the pile of posts.
"I won't butt in any more," she called out to Muriel.
"Only, it does look so simple!" She rested her elbows
on her knees again, dropped her chin into her
palms, and concentrated her mind upon the subject of
picture-plays in the making.
Muriel recovered her composure, stood beside Gil
Huntley at the horse's head just outside the range of
the camera, waited for the word of command from
Burns, and rushed into the saddle scene. Burns
shouted "Sob!" and Muriel sobbed with her face
toward the camera. Burns commanded her to pick up
the saddle, and Muriel picked up the saddle and flung it
spitefully upon the back of the sorrel.
"Oh, you forgot the blanket!" exclaimed Jean, and
stopped herself with her hand over her too-impulsive
mouth, just as Burns stopped the camera.
The director bowed his head and shook it twice
slowly and with much meaning. He did not say anything at
all; no one said anything. Gil Huntley looked
at Jean and tried to catch her eye, so that he might
give her some greeting, or at least a glance of
understanding. But Jean was whollyconcerned with the
problem which confronted Muriel. It was a shame,
she thought, to expect a girl,--and when she had
reached that far she straightway put the thought into
speech, as was her habit.
"It's a shame to expect that girl to do something she
doesn't know how to do," she said suddenly to Robert
Grant Burns. "Work at something else, why don't
you, and let me take her somewhere and show her how?
It's simple--"
"Get up and show her now," snapped Burns, with
horse," Jean told Muriel cheerfully. "First you want
to put on the bridle--"
"Burns told me to put on the saddle first; and then
he cuts the scene just as I pick up the bridle. The
trouble is to get the saddle on right, and then--that
latigo dope!"
"But you ought to bridle him first," Jean insisted.
"Supposing you just got the saddle on, and your horse
got startled and ran off? If you have the bridle on,
even if you haven't the reins, you can grab them when
he jumps."
"Well, that isn't the way Burns directed the scene
yesterday," Muriel Gay contended. "The scene ends
where I pick up the bridle."
"Then Robert Grant Burns doesn't know. I've seen
men put on the bridle last; but it's wrong. Lite Avery,
and everybody who knows--"
Muriel Gay looked at Jean with a weary impatience.
"What I have to do," she stated, "is what Burns tells
me to do. I should worry about it's being right or
wrong; I'm not the producer."
Jean faced her, frowning a little. Then she laughed,
hung the bridle back on the rusty spike, and took down
the saddle blanket. "We'll play I'm Robert Grant
Burns," she said. "I'll tell you what to do: Lay the
blanket on straight,--it's shaped to Pard's back, so that
ought to be easy,--with the front edge coming forward
to his withers; that's not right. Maybe I had better do
it first, and show you. Then you'll get the idea."
So Jean, with the best intention in the world, saddled
Pard, and wondered what there was about so simple a
process that need puzzle any one. When she had
tightened the cinch and looped up the latigo, and
explained to Muriel just what she was doing, she
immediately unsaddled him and laid the saddle down upon
its side, with the blanket folded once on top, and stepped
close to the manger.
"If your saddle isn't hanging up, that's the way it
should be put on the ground," she said. "Now you do
it. It's easy."
It was easy for Jean, but Muriel did not find it so
simple. Jean went through the whole performance a
second time, though she was beginning to feel that
nature had never fitted her for a teacher of young ladies.
Muriel, she began to suspect, rather resented the process
of being taught. In another minute Muriel confirmed
the suspicion.
"I think I've got it now," she said coolly. "Thank
you ever so much."
Robert Grant Burns returned then, and close behind
him rode Gil Huntley and those other desperados who
had helped to brand the calf that other day. Gil was
leading a little sorrel with a saddle on,--Muriel's horse
evidently. Jean had started back to the house and her
own affairs, but she lingered with a very human curiosity
to see what they were all going to do.
She did not know that Robert Grant Burns was perfectly
conscious of her presence even when he seemed
busiest, and was studying her covertly even when he
seemed not to notice her at all. Of his company, Pete
Lowry was the only one who did know it, but that was
because Pete himself was trained in the art of observation.
Pete also knew why Burns was watching Jean
and studying her slightest movement and expression;
and that was why Pete kept smiling that little, hidden
smile of his, while he made ready for the day's work
and explained to Jean the mechanical part of making
moving-pictures.
"I'd rather work with live things," said Jean after
a while. "But I can see where this must be rather
fascinating, too."
"This is working with live things, if anybody wants
to know," Pete declared. "Wait till you see Burns in
action; handling bronks is easy compared to--"
"About where does the side line come, Pete?" Burns
interrupted. "If Gil stands here and holds the horse
for that close-up saddling--" He whirled upon Gil
Huntley. "Lead that sorrel up here," he commanded.
"We'll have to cut off his head so the halter won't
show. Now, how's that?"
This was growing interesting. Jean backed to a
convenient pile of old corral posts and sat down to watch,
with her chin in her palms, and her mind weaving
shuttle-wise back and forth from one person to another,
fitting them all into the pattern which made the whole.
She watched Robert Grant Burns walking back and
forth, growling and chuckling by turns as things pleased
him or did not please him. She watched Muriel Gay
walk to a certain spot which Burns had previously
indicated, show sudden and uncalled-for fear and haste,
and go through a pantomime of throwing the saddle on
the sorrel.
She watched Lee Milligan carry the saddle up and
throw it down upon the ground, with skirts curled under
and stirrups sprawling.
"Oh, don't leave it that way," she remonstrated.
"Lay it on its side! You'll have the skirts kinked so
it never will set right."
Muriel Gay gasped and looked from her to Robert
Grant Burns. For betraying your country and your
flag is no crime at all compared with telling your
director what he must do.
"Bring that saddle over here," commanded Burns,
indicating another spot eighteen inches from the first.
"And don't slop it down like it was a bundle of old
clothes. Lay it on its side. How many times have I
got to tell you a thing before it soaks into your mind?"
Not by tone or look or manner did he betray any
knowledge that Jean had spoken, and Muriel decided
that he could not have heard.
Lee Milligan moved the saddle and placed it upon its
side, and Burns went to the camera and eyed the scene
critically for its photographic value. He fumbled
the script in his hands, cocked an eye upward at
the sun, stepped back, and gave a last glance to make
sure that nothing could be bettered by altering the detail.
"How's Gil; outside the line, Pete? All right.
Now, Miss Gay, remember, you're in a hurry, and
you're worried half to death. You've just time enough
to get there if you use every second. You were crying
when the letter-scene closed, and this is about five
minutes afterwards; you just had time enough to catch
your horse and lead him out here to saddle him. Register
a sob when you turn to pick up the saddle. You
ought to do this all right without rehearsing. Get into
the scene and start your action at the same time. Pete,
you pick it up just as she gets to the horse's shoulder
and starts to turn. Don't forget that sob, Gay.
Ready? Camera!"
Jean was absorbed, fascinated by this glimpse into a
new and very busy little world,--the world of moving-
picture makers. She leaned forward and watched every
moment, every little detail. "Grab the horn with your
right hand, Miss Gay!" she cried involuntarily, when
Muriel stooped and started to pick up the saddle.
"Don't--oh, it looks as if you were picking up a
wash-boiler! I told you--"
"Register that sob!" bawled Robert Grant Burns,
shooting a glance at Jean and stepping from one foot to
the other like a fat gobbler in fresh-fallen snow.
Muriel registered that sob and a couple more before
she succeeded in heaving the saddle upon the back of the
flinching sorrel. Because she took up the saddle by
horn and cantle instead of doing it as Jean had taught
her, she bungled its adjustment upon the horse's back.
Then the sorrel began to dance away from her, and
Robert Grant Burns swore under his breath.
"Stop the camera!" he barked and waddled irately
up to Muriel. "This," he observed ironically, "is
drama, Miss Gay. We are not making slap-stick
comedy to-day; and you needn't give an imitation of
boosting a barrel over a fence."
Tears that were real slipped down over the rouge
and grease paint on Muriel's cheeks. "Why don't you
make that girl stop butting in?" she flashed unexpectedly.
"I'm not accustomed to working under two directors!"
She registered another sob which the camera never got.
This brought Jean over to where she could lay her
hand contritely upon the girl's shoulder. "I'm
awfully sorry," she drawled with perfect sincerity.
"I didn't mean to rattle you; but you know you never
in the world could throw the stirrup over free, the way
you had hold of the saddle. I thought--"
Burns turned heavily around and looked at Jean, as
though he had something in his mind to say to her; but,
whatever that something may have been, he did not say
it. Jean looked at him questioningly and walked back
to the pile of posts.
"I won't butt in any more," she called out to Muriel.
"Only, it does look so simple!" She rested her elbows
on her knees again, dropped her chin into her
palms, and concentrated her mind upon the subject of
picture-plays in the making.
Muriel recovered her composure, stood beside Gil
Huntley at the horse's head just outside the range of
the camera, waited for the word of command from
Burns, and rushed into the saddle scene. Burns
shouted "Sob!" and Muriel sobbed with her face
toward the camera. Burns commanded her to pick up
the saddle, and Muriel picked up the saddle and flung it
spitefully upon the back of the sorrel.
"Oh, you forgot the blanket!" exclaimed Jean, and
stopped herself with her hand over her too-impulsive
mouth, just as Burns stopped the camera.
The director bowed his head and shook it twice
slowly and with much meaning. He did not say anything at
all; no one said anything. Gil Huntley looked
at Jean and tried to catch her eye, so that he might
give her some greeting, or at least a glance of
understanding. But Jean was whollyconcerned with the
problem which confronted Muriel. It was a shame,
she thought, to expect a girl,--and when she had
reached that far she straightway put the thought into
speech, as was her habit.
"It's a shame to expect that girl to do something she
doesn't know how to do," she said suddenly to Robert
Grant Burns. "Work at something else, why don't
you, and let me take her somewhere and show her how?
It's simple--"
"Get up and show her now," snapped Burns, with
- saddle [´sædl]
n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词) - intention [in´tenʃən] n.意图；打算；意义 (初中英语单词)
- puzzle [´pʌzl] n.迷(惑) v.(使)迷惑 (初中英语单词)
- performance [pə´fɔ:məns] n.履行；行为；工作 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- suspect [´sʌspekt, sə´spekt] v.怀疑；觉得 n.嫌疑犯 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- mechanical [mi´kænikəl] a.机械的；力学的 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- betray [bi´trei] vt.背叛；辜负；暴露 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- upward [´ʌpwəd] a.&ad.向上(的)；以上 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- barrel [´bærəl] n.(琵琶)桶；圆筒 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- director [di´rektə] n.指导者；....长；导演 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- uncalled-for [ʌn´kɔ:ldfɔ:] a.多余的；不适宜的 (高中英语单词)
- adjustment [ə´dʒʌstmənt] n.调整；适应；调解 (高中英语单词)
- imitation [,imi´teiʃən] n.模仿；仿制品；赝品 (高中英语单词)
- grease [gri:s] n.脂肪；油脂 vt.涂油 (高中英语单词)
- concerned [kən´sə:nd] a.有关的；担心的 (高中英语单词)
- straightway [´streitwei] ad.立刻 (高中英语单词)
- coolly [´ku:li] ad.冷(静地)，沉着地 (英语四级单词)
- stirrup [´stirəp] n.马蹬；镫形具 (英语四级单词)
- composure [kəm´pəuʒə] n.镇静，沉着 (英语四级单词)
- halter [´hɔ:ltə] n.缰绳，绞索 (英语六级单词)
- photographic [,fəutə´grɑ:fik] a.摄影(术)的；逼真的 (英语六级单词)
- script [skript] n.笔迹；手稿；剧本 (英语六级单词)
- involuntarily [in´vɔləntərili] ad.不 自觉地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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