wed to go unless accompanied by a parent or guardian,"
Arthur stated; "but I saw a group of eleven under the care of one
cheery-looking old lady, so I suppose the little ones evade the law in
that way."

On Tuesday forenoon they drove to the office of the Continental Film
Manufacturing Company and inquired for Mr. Werner. Every approach to the
interior of the big stockade was closely guarded in order to prevent the
curious from intruding, but Werner at once hurried out to greet them and
escorted them into the enclosure.

"You are just in time," said he, "to witness one of the scenes in our
great picture, 'Samson and Delilah.' They're getting it on now, so you
must hurry if you want to see the work. It's really the biggest thing our
firm has ever turned out."

They passed a group of low but extensive frame buildings, threading
their way between them until finally they emerged within a large open
space where huge frames covered with canvas were propped up in broad
daylight and apparently in great disorder. Huddled here and there were
groups of people wearing Oriental costumes of the Bible days, their
skins stained brown, the make-up on their faces showing hideously in the
strong light. A herd of meek donkeys, bearing burdens of faggots, was
tethered near by.

"Follow me closely," cautioned their guide, "so you will not step over
the 'dead line' and get yourselves in the picture."

"What is the 'dead line'?" inquired Uncle John.

"The line that marks the limit of the camera's scope. Outside of that you
are quite safe. You will notice it is plainly marked in chalk."

They passed around to the front and were amazed at the picture disclosed
by the reverse of the gaunt, skeleton-like framework. For now was
displayed Solomon's temple in all its magnificence, with huge pillars
supporting a roof that seemed as solid and substantial as stone and
mortar could make it.

The perspective was wonderful, for they could follow a line of vision
through the broad temple to a passage beyond, along which was
approaching a procession of priests, headed by dancing girls and
musicians beating tomtoms and playing upon reeds. The entire scene was
barbaric in its splendor and so impressive that they watched it
spellbound, awed and silent.

Yet here beside them was the motion-picture camera, clicking steadily
away and operated by a man in his shirt-sleeves who watched the scene
with sharp eyes, now frowning and now nodding approval. Besi