lively with the passing of many people。 He drew a long breath and became calculating。 He must see everything and see it methodically。 He even went now along the asphalt walk to the corner of the office building from which he had issued for the privilege of looking back at the gate through which he had so often yearningly stared from across the street。
Now he was securely inside looking out。 The watchman sat at the gate； bent low over his paper。 There was； it seemed； more than one way to get by him。 People might have headaches almost any time。 He wondered if his friend the casting director were subject to them。 He must carry a box of the Eezo wafers。
He strolled down the street between the rows of offices and the immense covered stages。 Actors in costume entered two of these and through their open doors he could see into their shadowy interiors。 He would venture there later。 Just now he wished to see the outside of things。 He contrived a pace not too swift but business…like enough to convey the impression that he was rightfully walking this forbidden street。 He seemed to be going some place where it was of the utmost importance that he should be； and yet to have started so early that there was no need for haste。
He sounded the far end of that long street visible from outside the gate； discovering its excitements to wane gently into mere blacksmith and carpenter shops。 He retraced his steps； this time ignoring the long row of offices for the opposite line of stages。 From one dark interior came the slow； dulled strains of an orchestra and from another shots rang out。 He met or passed strangely attired people； bandits； priests； choir boys； gentlemen in evening dress with blue…black eyebrows and careful hair。 And he observed many beautiful young women； variously attired； hurrying to or from the stages。 One lovely thing was in bridal dress of dazzling white； a veil of lace floating from her blonde head； her long train held up by a coloured maid。 She chatted amiably； as she crossed the street； with an evil…looking Mexican in a silver…corded hata veritable Snake de Vasquez。
But the stages could wait。 He must see more streets。 Again reaching the office that had been his secret gateway to these delights； he turned to the right； still with the air of having business at a certain spot to which there was really no need for him to hurry。 There were fewer people this way； and presently； as if by magic carpet； he had left all that sunlight and glitter and cheerful noise and stood alone in the shadowy； narrow street of a frontier town。 There was no bustle here； only an intense stillness。 The street was deserted； the shop doors closed。 There was a ghostlike； chilling effect that left him uneasy。 He called upon himself to remember that he was not actually in a remote and desolate frontier town from which the inhabitants had fled； that back of him but a few steps was abounding life； that outside was the prosaic world passing and repassing a gate hard to enter。 He whistled the fragment of a tune and went farther along this street of uncanny silence and vacancy； noting； as he went； the signs on the shop windows。 There was the Busy Bee Restaurant； Jim's Place； the Hotel Renown； the Last Dollar Dance Hall； Hank's Pool Room。 Upon one window was painted the terse announcement； 〃JoeBuy or Sell。〃 The Happy Days Bar adjoined the General Store。
He moved rapidly through this street。 It was no place to linger。 At the lower end it gave insanely upon a row of three…story brownstone houses which any picture patron would recognize as being wholly of New York。 There were the imposing steps； the double…doored entrances； the broad windows； the massive lines of the whole。 And beyond this he came to a many…coloured little street out of Bagdad； overhung with gay balconies； vivacious with spindled towers and minarets； and small reticent windows； out of which veiled ladies would glance。 And all was still with the stillness of utter desertion。
Then he explored farther and felt curiously disappointed at finding that these structures were to real houses what a dicky is to a sincere； genuine shirt。 They were pretentiously false。
One had but to step behind them to discover them as poor shells。
Their backs were jutting beams carried but little beyond the fronts and their stout…appearing walls were revealed to be fragile contrivances of button…lath and thin plaster。 The ghost quality departed from them with this discovery。
He left these cities of silence and came upon an open space and people。 They were grouped before a railway station； a small red structure beside a line of railway track。 At one end in black letters； on a narrow white board； was the name Boomerville。
The people were plainly Western： a dozen cowboys； a sprinkling of bluff ranchers and their families。 An absorbed young man in cap and khaki and puttees came from a distant group surrounding a camera and readjusted the line of these people。 He placed them to his liking。 A wagon drawn by two horses was driven up and a rancher helped a woman and girl to alight。 The girl was at once sought out by the cowboys。 They shook hands warmly under megaphoned directions from a man back by the camera。 The rancher and his wife mingled with the group。 The girl was drawn aside by one of the cowboys。 He had a nobler presence than the others； he was handsome and his accoutrements seemed more expensive。 They looked into each other's eyes a long time； apparently pledging an eternal fidelity。 One gathered that there would have been an embrace but for the cowboy's watchful companions。 They must say good…by with a mere handshake； though this was a slow； trembling； long…drawn clasp while they steadily regarded each other； and a second camera was brought to record it at a distance of six feet。 Merton Gill thrilled with the knowledge that he was beholding his first close…up。 His long study of the photo…drama enabled him to divine that the rancher's daughter was going to Vassar College to be educated； but that； although returning a year later a poised woman of the world； she would still long for the handsome cowboy who would marry her and run the Bar…X ranch。 The scene was done。 The camera would next be turned upon a real train at some real station； while the girl； with a final look at her lover； entered a real car； which the camera would show moving off to Vassar College。 Thus conveying to millions of delighted spectators the impression that a real train had steamed out of the station； which was merely an imitation of one； on the Holden lot。 The watcher passed on。 He could hear the cheerful drone of a sawmill where logs were being cut。 He followed the sound and came to its source。 The saw was at the end of an oblong pool in which logs floated。 Workmen were poling these toward the saw。 On a raised platform at one side was a camera and a man who gave directions through a megaphone； a neighbouring platform held a second camera。 A beautiful young girl in a print dress and her thick hair in a braid came bringing Ms dinner in a tin pail to the handsomest of the actors。 He laid down his pike…pole and took both the girl's hands in his as he received the pail。 One of the other workmen； a hulking brute with an evil face； scowled darkly at this encounter and a moment later had insulted the beautiful young girl。 But the first actor felled him with a blow。 He came up from this； crouchingly； and the fight was on。 Merton was excited by this fight； even though he was in no doubt as to which actor would win it。 They fought hard； and for a time it appeared that the handsome actor must lose； for the bully who had insulted the girl was a man of great strength； but the science of the other told。 It was the first fight Merton had ever witnessed。 He thought these men must really be hating each other； so bitter were their expressions。 The battle grew fiercer。 It was splendid。 Then； at the shrill note of a whistle； the panting combatants fell apart。
〃Rotten！〃 said an annoyed voice through the megaphone。 〃Can't you boys give me a little action？ Jazz it； jazz it！ Think it's a love scene？ Go to it； nowplenty of jazzunderstand what I mean？〃 He turned to the camera man beside him。 〃Ed； you turn tenwe got to get some speed some way。 Jack〃to the other camera man〃you stay on twelve。 All ready！ Get some life into it； now； and Lafe〃this to the handsome actor〃don't keep trying to hold your front to the machine。 We'll get you all right。 Ready； now。 Camera！〃
Again the fight was on。 It went to a bitter finish in which the vanquished bully was sent with a powerful blow backward into the water； while the beautiful young girl ran to the victor and nestled in the protection of his strong arms。
Merton Gill passed on。 This was the real thing。 He would have a lot to tell Tessie Kearns in his next letter。 Beyond the sawmill he came to an immense wooden structure like a cradle on huge rockers supported by scaffolding。 From the ground he could make nothing of it； but a ladder led to the top。 An hour on the Holden lot had made him bold。 He mounted the ladder and stood on the deck of what he saw was a sea…going yacht。 Three important…looking men were surveying the deckhouse forward。 They glanced at the newcomer but with a cheering absence of curiosity or even of