Stage nine was one of the smaller sound units on the Ace lot, but the
director had a camera crew, the sound men and an electrician awaiting
their arrival.
He tested the lights quickly.
"Just walk onto the set, do your lines and action, and forget about the
rest of us," he said. "We'll take part of it, maybe."
Janet's knees felt very weak and when she touched Helen's hand it was
damp with a chill perspiration.
"This is awful," whispered Janet. "I wish your Dad could be here."
"I'm glad he isn't," said Helen fervently.
"Go ahead, girls," urged the director, and Janet and Helen, who had
already agreed on the scene, started their lines. The action and words
were simple, but both of them were scared stiff and they acted like
wooden people.
"Wait a minute," said Billy Fenstow. "I'm human. I won't bite and I don't
expect you to be world beaters. Now try that over and loosen up."
Janet laughed a little and Helen found a handkerchief and wiped the palms
of her hands. Both of them felt better. The lights brightened until it
was impossible to see the camera crew; it was more like being on the
stage of the gym with Miss Williams over in the wings with her prompt
book in her hands.
Both girls entered into the spirit of their bit the second time, talking
and acting as they had the night of the class play. For the moment they
forgot the camera crew and failed to hear the soft whirring of the camera
as Billy Fenstow signaled the cameraman to pick up the sequence. They ran
through the scene and the lights dimmed.
Billy Fenstow stepped forward.
"That was better. We shot it and I'll have it put through at once.
There's a couple of others have a final word on the casting and they'll
want to see the test."
"When will it be ready?" asked Helen.
"Tonight. Suppose you bring your father over at eight and we'll send it
through with rushes of other stuff that's been taken today."
"We'll be here," promised Janet.
On their way out they overheard several electricians talking.
"One of the kids was Henry Thorne's girl," said one. "What did you think
of her?"
"She's not bad looking, but their skit was lousy."
"Yeh, I thought so too."
Helen looked at Janet and for some reason or other, felt like laughing.
Why hadn't her Dad warned them about the test? He should have given them
something to rehearse that would have been impressive.
It was nearly noon when they reached home and after lunch Janet sat down
and wrote in detail of the things that had transpired since they left
Clarion. In the letter she enclosed the picture and the newspaper
paragraph.
In the late afternoon Henry Thorne came home, tired but elated.
"I'm delighted with the first draft of the script for the new picture."
"Haven't you seen Mr. Fenstow?" asked Helen.
"No, why?"
"I'm afraid it wasn't so good."
"Nonsense. You made out well enough. What did he put you through?"
"That's just it," explained Janet. "He had us do a scene from the high
school play and we felt like awful nit-wits."
"I suppose so," conceded Helen's father. "When will the test be ready?"
"Mr. Fenstow said to come over at eight. He said several others had to
have a word about the casting."
"Sure. The supervisors always want the last word."
After dinner they drove to the studio, Mrs. Thorne accompanying them.
Helen's father took them directly to the projection room. Billy Fenstow
was waiting and half a dozen others were in the room. Most of them spoke
to Henry Thorne and he introduced several to Janet and Helen, but Janet
couldn't remember their names.
Then the lights went out and they settled back into comfortable
leather-upholstered chairs.
Scenes from a number of pictures in production flashed before their eyes.
Suddenly Janet and Helen saw themselves on the screen, moving and
talking, and Janet dropped her eyes for a minute. To her it looked pretty
terrible, but her voice was well modulated and pleasing.
After that the lights came on and Henry Thorne went over to speak to
Billy Fenstow. When he returned a few minutes later Janet couldn't even
guess what the decision had been.
"The action was punk," Helen's father said frankly, "but the supervisors
liked your voices. You've got good faces and figures. In other words you
report Monday morning and both of you go into 'Broad Valley,' Billy's
next picture."
_Chapter XXII_
WESTERN ACTION
In the days intervening Janet and Helen found plenty to do. Billy Fenstow
sent over scripts of his new western and they had a chance to familiarize
themselves with the general theme of the play. The story, briefly, was
the efforts of a band of ruthless men to gain control of "Broad Valley,"
a great cattle ranch which had been left to young Fred Danvers by his
father. There was plenty of action, some gunplay, and a love theme in
which Fred fell in love with the leader of the band of men who sought his
property. The theme was as old as western pictures, but Billy Fenstow had
a knack of dressing them up and making them look new.
Janet and Helen reported at stage nine at eight o'clock Monday morning,
Henry Thorne driving them over himself. He left as soon as they reached
the lot.
Nearly a score of people were clustered around the chubby little director
and he nodded as Janet and Helen joined the crowd. Janet nudged Helen.
"There's Curt Newsom, the western star. I'll bet he's got the lead."
"He looks nice," replied Helen, "but older than he appears on the
screen."
A rather artificial blonde was seated at Billy Fenstow's right, idly
thumbing through the sheaf of script from which the picture would be
shot.
Mr. Fenstow spoke sharply. "Attention everybody. All of you have had a
chance to study the script; all of you should be familiar with the parts.
We'll make plenty of changes as we go along, but in general you know what
we're aiming at. We've got two weeks assigned for the shooting and that
means we'll be done in two weeks, and not three."
He looked around at each of them, then went on.
"Curt Newsom goes into the lead as Fred Danvers and Miss Jackson will
play the rôle of Ruth Blair, the girl he falls in love with."
He ran on down the list. "The green cousins from the east who come to
visit Bill will be played by Janet Hardy and Helen Thorne."
Janet felt her heart bound. She actually had a part and it mattered
little that it was an insignificant rôle.
Bertie Jackson, the blonde in the chair, turned and looked sharply at the
girls, then sniffed. "I should say they would be well qualified to play
such rôles."
Billy Fenstow caught the sneer in her voice and turned quickly.
"You know, Miss Jackson, you don't have to work in this picture if you
don't want to. There are plenty of blondes would jump at the chance to
play this lead."
"Oh, calm down, Billy. Just because one of the girls is Henry Thorne's
daughter, you don't need to get on your high horse when I make a harmless
wisecrack."
But Helen had her own ideas about Bertie Jackson's wisecrack and she
resolved to watch the pallid blonde. Bertie, if it served her own
purpose, was quite capable of doing any number of mean tricks.
The morning passed rapidly with costume assignments being made. There
were a number of interior shots of the ranch house which would be
necessary and these scenes had already been erected on stage nine.
Janet and Helen would have their first scenes tomorrow, but they remained
on hand to watch the first shots of the picture and to attempt to get
acquainted with other members of the company. Most of them were friendly
enough, but they seemed to feel that the girls had deliberately been put
into the cast through Henry Thorne's influence and Helen voiced her
belief quietly.
"We've got to expect that," admitted Janet, "but we don't need to let it
spoil all of our fun."
Whatever she might have thought of Bertie Jackson from a standpoint of
personality, Janet had to admit that the actress was a thorough workman
and she went through her rôle in an easy and screen-appealing manner. In
makeup Curt Newsom appeared much younger than the forty years he was
willing to admit.
The next morning Janet and Helen reached the lot early. Although not
their first scene in the picture, the first one in which they were to be
shot showed them arriving at the ranchhouse.
Simple travelling costumes had been assigned by the wardrobe department,
but Roddy stepped in and quietly added a touch or two that made them
distinctive. Janet could almost hear Bertie Jackson hissing. It was an
unheard of thing for Roddy to pay any attention to the costume worn by a
minor character in a western or any other character in a picture of that
type.
"Your lines are simple, girls. You've just gotten out of a buckboard
after a long ride from the nearest railroad station. You're tired and
stiff and a little mad because Curt didn't come to meet you. Janet,
remember that you're a little giddy and anything crazy you do will fit in
all right."
"She'll do plenty of that," said Bertie Jackson, under her breath.
Billy Fenstow didn't believe in rehearsals. He told his people what he
wanted, then asked them to do it, and started the cameras grinding. If it
was too bad, he had to shoot it over, but if it was fair, he let it go,
with the result that once in a while he got some exceptional shots.
"All set, girls?" asked the director.
Janet, her mouth dry, nodded.
"Let's go. Camera!"
They stepped into the range of the cameras, Helen in the lead and Janet,
a rather vacant stare on her face, following. There was a bear-skin rug
in front of the door and some way her feet became tangled up in it and
she pitched forward, only the strong arm of Curt Newsom preventing her
from falling. Curt, a veteran trooper, faked a line and Janet had enough
presence of mind to come back with a cue. Then they went on with the
scene, which was extremely brief, ending with a cowboy, laden with
baggage, trying to get through the door.
"Cut it," waved Billy. "What are you trying to do, clown this?" he
demanded of the red-faced Janet.
"No, Mr. Fenstow. You see, I slipped. I didn't mean to do it," she
explained.
"Well, whatever it was, it was a nice bit of action and I think we'll
keep it. It ought to be worth a laugh or two."
The next morning they left early by bus for a location back in the
mountains. Billy Fenstow had every ranch possibility listed in a small
black book and this was one of his favorites. He had used it several
times, but a studio carpenter crew, by going out several days in advance,
had changed the barns and corrals enough to disguise them. They arrived
shortly before noon and a delicious meal was waiting for them.
Janet and Helen had little to do for the next two days, most of the shots
being confined to action on the range, with the camera, mounted on a
special truck, racing ahead of the pounding horses while the broad valley
resounded to volleys of blank shots as the cowboys, led by Curt Newsom,
chased and were chased by the marauders.
Then Janet and Helen got their chance in a comedy sequence called for
their first riding. Neither of them felt any qualms until they were
mounted. Then their horses seemed to explode and both girls hung on for
their lives, their faces registering surprise in no uncertain terms.
Helen lost her grip and flew through the air to land in an undignified
position in a cloud of dust. Janet, either more fortunate or a better
rider, clung on for another minute, then found herself dumped into the
open water trough. Splashing furiously and sputtering at a great rate,
Janet got her head above water. Her hair was plastered to her head and
she was soaking wet. The camera crew, in spite of their roars of
laughter, had kept grinding away.
"Great stuff, Janet. You've got a natural born sense of comedy," chuckled
Billy Fenstow as he wiped the tears out of his eyes.
"It looks like I'm all wet as an actress," admitted Janet.
"Oh, I don't know. Getting all wet may make you one," countered the
director. "Get into some dry clothes. We're through with this sequence,
anyhow."
The days on location passed swiftly and in the main pleasantly. Curt
Newsom took an interest in the girls, which only heightened Bertie
Jackson's jealousy. He taught them several tricks about riding and they
spent every extra hour in the saddle.
One of the last sequences to be filmed at the ranch was one calling for a
wild ride by Janet to take news of a raid on the ranch to the sheriff's
office in a near-by town.
With the camera crew in the truck ahead, the action started. Janet rode
hard, but was careful to keep in camera range. Suddenly she felt her
saddle slipping and she grabbed desperately at the mane of the galloping
horse. Alarmed by the looseness of the saddle, the beast increased its
stride and Janet, a stifled scream on her lips, plunged headlong. She
felt the shock of the ground as she struck and then a mantle of merciful
darkness descended upon her.
_Chapter XXIII_
ON THE SCREEN
Curt Newsom was the first to reach the unconscious Janet. He picked her
up, almost without effort, and ran to the car in which Billy Fenstow had
been following the action.
"Step on it, Billy. This girl's had a bad fall," he said, and the
director swung the car quickly and sped back toward the ranchhouse.
Helen, mounted, galloped after them and the rest of the company,
including the camera crew, trailed along.
When Janet regained her senses she was lying on a bed in the ranchhouse
with Helen, her face expressing her anxiety, bending over her.
"What happened?" asked Janet faintly.
"Your saddle came loose and you took a header," explained Curt. "How do
you feel?"
"Let me get up and take a few steps and then I'll tell you," replied
Janet.
"Better stay quiet for a few more minutes. We've got a doctor coming out
to look you over," advised Billy Fenstow.
"But I'm sure there's nothing really wrong with me, except perhaps I'm
clumsy," replied Janet.
Just then one of the cowboys tiptoed in and whispered something to Curt
Newsom. Janet caught a flash of anger in his face as he turned and
followed the cowboy outside.
The doctor arrived within a few minutes and made a thorough examination
for possible injuries.
"Just a liberal supply of bumps and bruises," he decided. "Better take it
easy for a day or two."
"Well, that's that," Janet managed to smile when the doctor had departed.
"I'm afraid I spoiled another sequence and you'll have to shoot it over."
"I should say not," replied Billy Fenstow. "The camera got every bit of
action and I'll work it in somehow. Any time I let a swell shot like that
go unused you can write 'finished' after my name. Stay in bed the rest of
the day. The schedule of scenes you were in is practically completed
anyway."
Helen was in and out the rest of the day for there were several shots in
which she appeared and it was late afternoon when she came in to stay.
"Curt Newsom is on the warpath," she said slowly as she sat down beside
Janet.
"Sore about my mussing up that scene?" asked Janet.
"No. He's been looking at the saddle and says someone tried to kill you."
Helen's voice was flat.
Janet sat up in bed.
"Someone tried to kill me?" she demanded.
Tears welled into Helen's tired eyes.
"Oh, this is all a mess," she cried. "We never should have come out here.
There are too many intrigues and jealousies among those established."
"Tell me just what you mean?" insisted Janet.
Helen waved her hands helplessly. "Curt's found out that the saddle girth
was almost cut through. That's the reason your saddle came loose and you
were pitched out."
"Does he have any idea who did it?"
"If he does, he isn't saying anything, but I heard him tell Billy Fenstow
that this is the last picture he'll work in with Bertie Jackson."
"I wonder if that means he suspects Bertie?" Janet pondered.
"You could take it that way if you wanted to, and personally I think
Bertie is fully capable of some despicable stunt like that. I'm glad
shooting on this picture is practically over. I've seen all of Bertie I
ever want to."
"It doesn't seem as though she would do anything like that, though," said
Janet. "But, after all, Bertie's determined to get ahead and I expect
she's wholly unscrupulous when she thinks anything or anyone may be
blocking her way. But why should she pick on us?"
"Because we came in as absolute greenhorns and got fairly good bits.
She's afraid we may be pushed ahead too fast because of Dad's position
with the company. I think it's all plain enough."
"Perhaps you're right," conceded Janet. "I'll certainly watch myself when
I'm around Bertie from now on."
Janet felt much better the next morning. She was still stiff and sore,
but was able to walk with only a moderate amount of discomfort.
It was the final day of shooting for "Broad Valley" and a certain
tenseness gripped the whole company. Billy Fenstow was determined to
finish on time and they worked like mad through the long, hot hours.
Janet had to do another riding sequence, and she went about it gamely,
although every bone in her body ached as her horse galloped at a mad pace
across the broad valley and into the rolling hills behind it. Then it was
done. The picture was "in the can."
Supper was served at the ranchhouse and after the meal, in the soft
twilight of the summer evening, they piled into the bus that was to take
them back to Hollywood.
There was little conversation on the way back to the city. Some of them
were completely worn out by the strain of working against time for the
last few days and a number dozed as the bus, striking a concrete road,
rolled smoothly and swiftly toward Hollywood.
The days had been exciting and even thrilling for Janet and Helen--an
experience they might never know again and both girls knew they would
come to treasure the recent days highly.
Janet wondered what would be in store for them in Hollywood. Would they
win other rôles or were they through? It would depend on the verdict
after "Broad Valley" had its screening before the studio executives.
The lights of Hollywood glowed and they pulled up in front of the studio.
Some of the actors and actresses had their own cars; others took busses
and only a few signalled for waiting taxis. Janet and Helen were among
these.
Henry Thorne was waiting for them when they reached home.
"All done?" he asked.