Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1916)

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liiiiiiiiiiini iinnnii i iiiimiiiiiniii minima minium mi iiiiiiiu mil iiiiiiiiiinn iiiiiiiiiiiiuim in Editor's Note: Herewith is presented the opening instal ment of the first great novel written around the motion picture copilot of the world — Los Angeles. Its diopters exude the living atmosphere of the studios, reflect their romantic glamour — ami reveal at times the hrassiness of the glitter. In order to preclude futile speculation, it /nay he stated that the characters in " The Glory Road" are not real personalities. Begin this vivid transcript from the most colorful page of life now. iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiH liiiiiiiiiiini Author of "Star of the North," "Alloy of Gold," "Children of Banishment," etc. Illustrations by R. VAN BUREN CHAPTER I HAUL TEMPLE stood on a rock that outcropped from the green upward sweep of the canyon, where the cameras were being established and watched Tom Briscoe work. He was a tall young man of about thirty, distinguished by a faint gray at the temples, and a figure as lean and hard as that of a trained athlete. The face that watched the dazzling scene was long and thin, and graven at salient points of eyes and mouth with the indelible marks of experience. It seemed to reveal a life triumphant after turbulent storms. Despite its look of power, a sensitiveness that indicated a fine delicacy of feeling was its dominant characteristic. And yet no one would have thought to ask Temple the time by his wrist watch. As the bright male constellation of the Graphic Film Company, he had scattered himself recklessly over too much of the North American continent for that. Almost his direct opposite was the man he watched — Tom Briscoe, the Directorgeneral of the Graphic forces in California. Just now Briscoe was supervising the setting up of three cameras which would sweep the canyon from as many vantage points. He seemed to bounce rather than walk as he hurried from one to another, and as he issued sharp commands he clapped his hands with startling staccato reports. Short and chunky, with a large, square head, his every motion seemed to crackle with electricity. He radiated waves of it, and his ability to communicate those waves to others had raised him to his present high position. Having managed to sight through a camera by standing on tiptoe, he lowered himself with a grunt of approval, and walked over to where Paul stood. 25