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