Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

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Send for it TODAY. AMERICAN SCHOOL Dept. H-476 Drexel Ave. &58th St. ©A.S.1923 CHICAGO Tour choice of the World's beBt typewriters— Underwood, Remington, Oliver — full size, late model, completely rebuilt and rennisbod brand new. Prices smashed down to half. Act Quick. fZ and it's your ree Trial Jnet send your name and address and we will mall yoo our complete FREE CATALOG prepaid, fully describing and showing actual photographs of each beautiful machine in full colors. Telia •very detail of our direct-to-yoa small-payment plan. Write now foC 'Iremcndous saving. No obligation whatever. Still time if you act now* international Typewriter Exchange U048B W. Lake Streets » Department 473, Chieaso. III. Film Struck Continued from page 95 They laughed and shouted and made great sport of their difficulties. To Oscar, it suddenly became a blur of silk stockings, pretty legs and bare knees ; but if the colorful exhibition reddened his cheeks, which it did, none took notice. And presently he climbed in to wedge himself among them, his hat on the back of his head, his suit case tucked between his legs. There were hardly seats enough to go around ; and when a girl pushed her way in, just as the bus started with a jerk, she was flung into Oscar's lap. Embarrassed, he tried to squirm free, intending to offer the late comer his seat, but the girl protested strenuously. "That's all right," she assured him, making herself comfortable and holding on with an arm about his neck. "Sit still. You're rocking the boat. I'm fine and dandy." Some of the others laughed and a few hurled remarks, which did not seem to disturb the young lady who had preempted Oscar's knees. "Two can sit as cheap as one," she called out gayly. "If I get too heavy, whistle." She turned to survey him with a frank, engaging smile, and he did his best to smile back, his cheeks burning furiously. Although in a state of mental agitation, Oscar was not beyond noticing that the girl he held was extremely pretty, with curly, bobbed hair and mischievous eyes. She was about as heavy, he thought, as a milkweed pod. So he didn't whistle. He wouldn't have whistled in any event. The bus lurched and jolted and the girl clung tighter, giggling, her warm arms encircling his neck, her hair, smelling of perfume, brushing his cheek. Suddenly he lost his hat and the bus behind them ran over it, squashing the natty straw ; but he didn't mind, although it had cost him three dollars, and laughed with the other passengers. By the time Oscar had regained his mental equilibrium and felt more at ease, since no one seemed to be paying him much attention, the bus stopped. There ensued a second gay scramble as the passengers alighted. The girl on his lap disentangled herself and he lifted her down, a little surprised at his boldness. "Thanks ever so much for the seat," she told him. "You're a dear. I'll see you again soon." She bounded away, throwing him a significant glance over her shoulder. Oscar grinned, his face crim son ; but he was getting used to that now. For a girl who hadn't been introduced, she was rather forward. Still, he didn't object. Western folks were like that, he had heard : breezy and without airs. With the disappearance of the girl, Oscar turned slowly to survey his new surroundings. A single, crooked street lay before him, lined on either side with low, frame buildings. Any number of tents were visible; material littered the landscape ; an army of men were working. Everything, everywhere looked new and unsubstantial. A boom town all right, he told himself promptly. Funny, though, he reflected in the next breath, for Sapphire wasn't a new place. But perhaps this was a suburb being built on the scene of the gold rush. Some one at his elbow spoke. "A whale of a set, isn't it?" Oscar politely said it was, although he didn't understand clearly and would have asked questions, only at that moment a man standing beside a board shack began to shout through a megaphone. What he said was rather vague; but when Oscar saw the crowd forming in line, he joined them. It seemed the thing to do — to follow the crowd. They must be, like himself, hunting accommodations for the night. As the line moved forward, his roving eyes caught a glimpse of a large tent spread with tables and at the same time his nostrils were assailed with the tantalizing aroma of food — of food being cooked. He brightened instantly, cheered by thoughts of a warm meal. At least he could understand that. No doubt meal tickets were being sold at the shack, for he noticed that those who walked away from the window carried bits of cardboard in their fin. gers and went scampering toward one of the larger tents. Presently he was at the window, and a harassed young man with a stack of coveted tickets before him looked up to demand his name. "Oscar " he began and caught himself in time, remembering with a shock that, as a fugitive, he dared not speak the truth. 'Well?" the man demanded irritably. "Oscar what?" In the dread crisis that confronted him, his mind refused to function. It remained a blank. Criminals, he knew, must be quick-witted to avoid exposure ; but that gift was denied him. He opened his mouth and nodded, although he didn't know why,