His manner of using a cigarette case was so much more graceful than her own.

And he seemed to know everything. Certainly he thought he did.

And all his men gave him such blind obedience. He had a trick of flashing the sun in their eyes from his cigarette case that probably caused them to do this, she deducted.

Two days pa.s.sed before he finally decided she had given the hero the rose properly. That, doubtless, was why they used artificial roses. A real one couldn't last out a rehearsal.

But somehow, in the depths of her harrowed, deeply embittered, astonished young soul, she was humbly glad that at last she had given the hero the rose properly.

"That's that," said the High Mandarin of the Movies, "and although worse than bad eggs, in other things you may stand a chance of realizing my genius for me in the soul-stirring, magnificent, marvelous, magnitudinous work of art I am on the brink of creating.

Come--come--a little loud and prolonged applause--everybody please. I thank you.

"The next scene will call for you saying a tender farewell--keep remembering your s.e.x, madame--with your lover under a tree. An apple tree in full bloom."

"There aren't apple trees on the desert," Verbeena with simply idiotic indiscretion observed.

The director flung his hat on the sand, kicked it in the air, ran around the desert on all fours for a mile, then arose majestically.

"How dare you! Can't you see that under one of those tall palm trees the shadows wouldn't fall right on the picture? No blossoming apple trees on the desert, eh? I guess you don't know _me_! Billy, an apple tree, full blossom!"

The man addressed obeyed swiftly. In a jiffy he had brought one from the property aeroplane and raised it in place.

"O, Good Lord," again and again reverberated in the ears of Verbeena, "you squint so with that snub-nosed face of yours!

You--gently--gently, gently into his arms. You're not wrestling him--you're loving him--you--not that sidelong glance--a big look into his eyes and now then--remember although we've only begun here, this is the end of the picture--the final close-up--now, extend lips in full, both--stick 'em way out--that's it--now then, kiss--kiss--hold that--hold it--kiss, kiss, kiiiiiiiisssssssssss!"

"You know nothing of kissing! Nothing! And you're supposed to have had Oriental training too! Here--come here--like _THIS! Kiss--kiss--LIKE THIS!!_"

A gleam of anger shot into Verbeena's tired eyes but she was powerless. The compelling quality of this terrible creature, the force with which he held her, the exultant, horrible, heavy, hot, and, she could feel, relentless, half savagely cruel, indifferent way he was doing it to her!

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHEREIN THE MOVIE MAHOUT INFORMS VERBEENA SHE WILL NEXT BE REQUIRED TO BE SHOT OUT OF A PALM TREE BY HER LOVER IN MISTAKE FOR A SQUIRREL.]

She dropped to her knees at the end of it begging for mercy.

He laughed at her coldly.

"You must get the idea of it--the sooner the better," he said with a hauteur that made her cringe back into her old caterpillar crouch.

"Now the next scene--and we must hurry up or the light will be bad--is where you are shot out of the top of a palm tree by your lover in mistake for a squirrel.

"Come now--action--Cameras!--Cameras train on that palm tree over there. The tallest one, of course. Remember, Mrs. Amut, you fall dead--a dead fall--right straight out of the tree on your face. What's that? Dangerous? Nonsense! And what if it is? What do you suppose we are paying you for? What's a cracked nose for art's sake! No more nonsense, no more words--up you go!"

Verbeena climbed.

Sometime later on being restored to consciousness wherein she knew what was going on around her, she heard the great Gristmille saying:

"Very well, hop up there, leading woman! All ready for the next scene."

"What--what is it?" faltered Verbeena.

"How dare you ask questions? Your instructions will all come in due time. And now's the time!

"In the next scene you fall from your horse--you're shot or something, perhaps struck in the back with a lance--I haven't quite made up my mind--and then you will be run over by a herd of wild Arabian horses with Mr. Arbuckle pursuing in the hope of rescue borne by eleven camels, one for the hope and ten for Mr. Arbuckle.

"Come now--quick--and remember you are not to look frightened as the horses--about two thousand of them--rush over you. As a heroine you are calm-eyed in the face of certain death. If you do we'll have to keep repeating the scene and I don't want to give too much time to it.

"Come on now--there must be no delay--the horses are ready--at great expense--they are ready and now--_hey, Billy, Jim, Grady, Bert_--_quick--how dare she!--quick--catch that girl!_"

But Verbeena's early education when she used to beat all the Harrow boys at sprinting served her well.

She covered the three miles back to her own Oasis leaving all pursuers in the ruck. _Time 42-1/2 seconds, but record not official._

CHAPTER XIV

Verbeena floundered wild-eyed, wide-mouthed, panting into the tent of the Sheik Amut Ben Butler.

She fled into the arms of Amut. She clung there girlishly trembling, so tired she was exhausted.

"O, dash it all, dash it all--that man--that man--that _terrible_ man!

Save--save me! I'm all for you and Allah hereafter, Amut, save--save me--save me from that _terrible man_!"

He held her as he had never held her before--as he never had been able to hold her before.

He regarded the pitiful, gasping little figure which tried to kneel at his feet, and, once more a deep and splendid chestiness came upon Amut Ben Butler.

He--in spite of all--Allah, and by Jove, he loved her!

He had long wrestled with himself concerning it because it was preferable than trying to wrestle with Verbeena.

Ah, the dear head now drooping that once so proudly poised with its jaunty clubbed curls.

A lion's heart grew under the jelab of the old-time Boss of Oasis Nos.

4, 5, 12 and 16.

There was the sound of horsery and the clangor and click of camera men without.

"Save me, O G.o.d, save me!" gasped Verbeena anew. "That man--that _terrible_ man!"

Amut Ben Butler strode proudly to the flap of his tent and looked out.

"You just go away from here, every one of you, do you hear? Yes, I mean you too--you big stiff with the silver cigarette case! I think it's phoney anyway. My wife doesn't care to have anything to do with you and I don't either. So back to your aeroplanes and flooey!"

In horror, in abject dread Verbeena's clubbed curls were buried in the cushions. But in a little while her distrait, white face was lifted.

"Amut," she ventured, "Amut--has he gone?"