Billy and the Big Stick [5]
or they must starve. The one whose features seemed familiar replied:
"Still, we are leaving to-night," he said; "not on a steamer, but on a war-ship."
"A war-ship?" cried Billy. His heart beat at high speed. "Then," he exclaimed, "you are a naval officer?"
The young man shook his head and, as though challenging Billy to make another guess, smiled.
"Then," Billy complied eagerly, "you are a diplomat! Are you our new minister?"
One of the other young men exclaimed reproachfully:
"You know him perfectly well!" he protested. "You've seen his picture thousands of times."
With awe and pride he placed his hand on Billy's arm and with the other pointed at the one in the Panama hat.
"It's Harry St. Clair," he announced. "Harry St.Clair, the King of the Movies!"
"The King of the Movies," repeated Billy. His disappointment was so keen as to be embarrassing.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I thought you----" Then he remembered his manners. "Glad to meet you," he said. "Seen you on the screen."
Again his own troubles took precedence. "Did you say," he demanded, "One of our war-ships is coming here TO-DAY?"
"Coming to take me to Santo Domingo," explained Mr. St. Clair. He spoke airily, as though to him as a means of locomotion battle-ships were as trolley-cars. The Planter's punch, which was something he had never before encountered, encouraged the great young man to unbend. He explained further and fully, and Billy, his mind intent upon his own affair, pretended to listen.
The United States Government, Mr. St. Clair explained, was assisting him and the Apollo Film Company in producing the eight-reel film entitled "The Man Behind the Gun."
With it the Navy Department plotted to advertise the navy and encourage recruiting. In moving pictures, in the form of a story, with love interest, villain, comic relief, and thrills, it would show the life of American bluejackets afloat and ashore, at home and abroad. They would be seen at Yokohama playing baseball with Tokio University; in the courtyard of the Vatican receiving the blessing of the Pope; at Waikiki riding the breakers on a scrubbing-board; in the Philippines eating cocoanuts in the shade of the sheltering palm, and in Brooklyn in the Y. M. C. A. club, in the shadow of the New York sky-scrapers, playing billiards and reading the sporting extras.
As it would be illustrated on the film the life of "The Man Behind the Gun" was one of luxurious ease. In it coal- passing, standing watch in a blizzard, and washing down decks, cold and unsympathetic, held no part. But to prove that the life of Jack was not all play he would be seen fighting for the flag. That was where, as "Lieutenant Hardy, U. S. A.," the King of the Movies entered.
"Our company arrived in Santo Domingo last week," he explained. "And they're waiting for me now. I'm to lead the attack on the fortress. We land in shore boats under the guns of the ship and I take the fortress. First, we show the ship clearing for action and the men lowering the boats and pulling for shore. Then we cut back to show the gun-crews serving the guns. Then we jump to the landing-party wading through the breakers. I lead them. The man who is carrying the flag gets shot and drops in the surf. I pick him up, put him on my shoulder, and carry him and the flag to the beach, where----"
Billy suddenly awoke. His tone was one of excited interest.
"You got a uniform?" he demanded.
"Three," said St. Clair impressively, "made to order according to regulations on file in the Quartermaster's Department. Each absolutely correct. "Without too great a show of eagerness he inquired: "Like to see them?"
Without too great a show of eagerness Billy assured him that he would.
"I got to telephone first," he added, "but by the time you get your trunk open I'll join you in your room."
In the cafe, over the telephone, Billy addressed himself to the field-marshal in charge of the cable office. When Billy gave his name, the voice of that dignitary became violently agitated.
"Monsieur Barlow," he demanded, " do you know
"Still, we are leaving to-night," he said; "not on a steamer, but on a war-ship."
"A war-ship?" cried Billy. His heart beat at high speed. "Then," he exclaimed, "you are a naval officer?"
The young man shook his head and, as though challenging Billy to make another guess, smiled.
"Then," Billy complied eagerly, "you are a diplomat! Are you our new minister?"
One of the other young men exclaimed reproachfully:
"You know him perfectly well!" he protested. "You've seen his picture thousands of times."
With awe and pride he placed his hand on Billy's arm and with the other pointed at the one in the Panama hat.
"It's Harry St. Clair," he announced. "Harry St.Clair, the King of the Movies!"
"The King of the Movies," repeated Billy. His disappointment was so keen as to be embarrassing.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I thought you----" Then he remembered his manners. "Glad to meet you," he said. "Seen you on the screen."
Again his own troubles took precedence. "Did you say," he demanded, "One of our war-ships is coming here TO-DAY?"
"Coming to take me to Santo Domingo," explained Mr. St. Clair. He spoke airily, as though to him as a means of locomotion battle-ships were as trolley-cars. The Planter's punch, which was something he had never before encountered, encouraged the great young man to unbend. He explained further and fully, and Billy, his mind intent upon his own affair, pretended to listen.
The United States Government, Mr. St. Clair explained, was assisting him and the Apollo Film Company in producing the eight-reel film entitled "The Man Behind the Gun."
With it the Navy Department plotted to advertise the navy and encourage recruiting. In moving pictures, in the form of a story, with love interest, villain, comic relief, and thrills, it would show the life of American bluejackets afloat and ashore, at home and abroad. They would be seen at Yokohama playing baseball with Tokio University; in the courtyard of the Vatican receiving the blessing of the Pope; at Waikiki riding the breakers on a scrubbing-board; in the Philippines eating cocoanuts in the shade of the sheltering palm, and in Brooklyn in the Y. M. C. A. club, in the shadow of the New York sky-scrapers, playing billiards and reading the sporting extras.
As it would be illustrated on the film the life of "The Man Behind the Gun" was one of luxurious ease. In it coal- passing, standing watch in a blizzard, and washing down decks, cold and unsympathetic, held no part. But to prove that the life of Jack was not all play he would be seen fighting for the flag. That was where, as "Lieutenant Hardy, U. S. A.," the King of the Movies entered.
"Our company arrived in Santo Domingo last week," he explained. "And they're waiting for me now. I'm to lead the attack on the fortress. We land in shore boats under the guns of the ship and I take the fortress. First, we show the ship clearing for action and the men lowering the boats and pulling for shore. Then we cut back to show the gun-crews serving the guns. Then we jump to the landing-party wading through the breakers. I lead them. The man who is carrying the flag gets shot and drops in the surf. I pick him up, put him on my shoulder, and carry him and the flag to the beach, where----"
Billy suddenly awoke. His tone was one of excited interest.
"You got a uniform?" he demanded.
"Three," said St. Clair impressively, "made to order according to regulations on file in the Quartermaster's Department. Each absolutely correct. "Without too great a show of eagerness he inquired: "Like to see them?"
Without too great a show of eagerness Billy assured him that he would.
"I got to telephone first," he added, "but by the time you get your trunk open I'll join you in your room."
In the cafe, over the telephone, Billy addressed himself to the field-marshal in charge of the cable office. When Billy gave his name, the voice of that dignitary became violently agitated.
"Monsieur Barlow," he demanded, " do you know