Photoplay (Jan - Jun 1919)

PRIDE OF KENTUCKY IF anything were needed to nnall) convince the Last doubter that these United States form one nation, the great war has supplied that need In France, Michigan and Alabama boys, brigaded together, are winning hand in hand; at home, North and South have united in pouring out not only their best, but their .ill. tor support and relief of a great common cause. V i he Cameron home in Virginia, on a Spring afternoon, the whole neighborhood had opened its thrifty hands to shower their Contents into the patient lap of that greatest mother, the Red Not everyone had much to give, few had much to give, but all were giving as though to give were an excess of hapThe Camerons themselves, much richer once than now. were putting upon the altar of mercy "Southern Pride." a great and ultimate gift of horseflesh. They could not give money, for they hadn't it; they could only proffer a living thing that was nearer their hearts than any gold could be. True, Southern Pride had sprained a tendon in her foreleg, and might never run again, but did that lessen her intrinsic value in the family's eyes? Not at all! So Lucille Cameron stood there, a bit brave, a bit terrified, crying in a voice tint was a bit shrill in spite of its determination to be calm: "One dollar a chance, ladies and gentlemen! You stand to win Southern Pride, daughter of Selim Bey. who, as you ail know, was undisputed champion at one mile!" The hand that held the tickets trembled, but the blue eyes smiled dauntlessly. Lucille was not exactly pretty; she was more than that: she was fascinating. She had that for which many a merely pretty girl might give her dimples and her teeth: fascination. Slowly, her tickets were taken. As we have intimated, the spirit of mercy in and around Cameronville was infinite, but like Cameron House, the district had more spirit than coin. Far back in the shadow of the deep, high-pillared porch sat Lucille's father. Colonel Cameron had been a boy not old enough to fight in the days of the Civil War. He had seen and heard it all and he grew up fired with the chivalry of a lost though perhaps errine cause. He was indeed a gentleman of the old school, and a scheme of life such as his demanded a million a year, at least. Now. the weight of sixty years of dreams and debts lay upon him like a silver cloud; in the bright sunlight beyond. Lucille, his darling, was trying vainly to raffle the last of his horses. Vainly! There was the tragedy. His hand convulsively shot to his pocket . . . should he spend the few silver dollars there in helping out his little girl. . . .? Just then the gate banged determinedly, and among neighbors and neighboring farmers strode one obviously not of them. Jim Luce was such a hale fellow generally well met that few had noticed a shifty eye that had a habit of settling nowhere, like a buzzing fly. Today that eye roamed restlesslv across the crowd, lingering not at all. except, when her head was turned the other way, on Lucille. The rcymo.ru t oj a h race thai eliminated Md.so?] and Dixon's Lnk' and reconstructed a .so ti I h e r /i col on c i. By Marion Craig A surprising victory Lucille had won her own horse! She was ashamed to accept — delighted that Southern Pride was not leaving the family. "Well, Miss Cameron — how^ about it?" Luce squared himself in front of the nearest to her, his hands in his pockets, his feet wide apart. He had a habit of recognizing and master ing helpless people's emergencies, and he recognized this a> one of them. "Oh!" exclaimed the girl, swallowing hard — "I've got twentyfive that I just can't seem to sell!" "I'll buy them — for you," responded Luce abruptly, flashing forth a sheaf of green money. "Ten — and another ten — and how about five ones — nice new Federal Reserve ones — made 'cm all myself — that's why they're so new." And he laughed at the dull and ancient witticism as if it were his own. Lucille laughed, too. from sheer nervousness and happiness. She would have laughed at anything that had been said to her in that relieving instant. She jumped down and the drawing for Southern Pride commenced immediately. Luce made his way to the portico. Colonel Cameron rose to meet him. "Got your message at the hotel half an hour ago. Colonel," -aid Luce, with elaborate cheerfulness, shooting a hand to the older man. "What's the big idea? Anything 1 can do?" "I wanted you to come down ... to come down. . . ." Colonel Cameron looked cautiously around. "I wanted you to come down and relieve me of mv oil stock — the stock you