Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1927)

Film Struck 65 the pictures is bound to change things. I suppose you can make more in a week by actin' than you could in a couple of months back of a counter. I don't blame you none, Oscar. No, sir-ee. You've got looks and talent, as I said before, and you ought to make 'em pay dividends. Like the work, do you ?" "It — it's interesting," Oscar forced himself to say. He must pretend, or Amos would wonder why he should turn down the Sapphire opportunity. "I'll bet it is," Hortle declaied. "Something new all the time, ain't it? Well, just keep in mind what I've been sayin', Oscar. You never know what'll happen. Guess I'll have to be runnin' on," he added, with a glance at his watch. "Come by this way to see what was happenin'. I'll slip around again in a day or so, and I'll expect you to come in town with me. You can arrange it, can't you?" "Why, yes — I think so. Some afternoon, maybe. And — and before I forget it, Amos," Oscar went on to explain, to ward off a possible disaster in case they should meet again, "I'm known here as Oscar Watt. it was some distance away, the engine could still be heard setting up a terrific protest. There seemed to be no road, but the car plowed valiantly through the sand and in time vanished, swallowed in the shimmering heat waves that danced between land and sky. Thoughts of escape, of getting far beyond sight and reach of those who knew him, particularly Amos and Just remember that in case I'm not around." "Watt?" echoed Hortle. Watt ! Sort of an actin' title, is it ? I never could understand why a fellow has to change his name as soon as he begins to paint his face. That sort of nonsense ought to be left for crooks — them that wants to stay under cover." Oscar quaked inwardly, but made himself smile. What had induced Amos to bring up the subject of crooks ? "I — I suppose you find lots of men out in this region traveling under false names, don't you?" he queried, in as calm a tone as he could muster. "We-ell, yes. But they don't stay around our town long," Hortle boasted. "I can smell 'em out. I've nabbed a lot of crooks — bad ones, too. Pulled down a few rewards." He flipped back his coat to display a huge revolver on his hip and a star pinned to his suspenders, then grinned at the strained expression that crossed Oscar's face. "Better behave yourself around here," he twitted. "I'll have you in the lock-up if you don't." He laughed. "Well, so long. See you to-morrow or next day. If there's anything you want, just send me word." Oscar murmured that he would be only too pleased to see him again,' or call upon him if necessity demanded, which were both bare-faced lies. And at the same time he made up his mind to several things — the outstanding decision being to arrange for an early departure from the vicinity of Sapphire. With dismal eyes he watched the garrulous chief of police climb into his flivver and drive off. Even after his vested authority, filled Oscar's anguished mind. He must vanish before to-morrow's sun. Word about him from La Belle might reach Hortle at any moment. The Sapphire police chief might prove a loyal friend and lend a sympathetic ear, but he was an officer, sworn to uphold the law without fear or favor, and when he learned that Oscar Whiffle, alias Watt, was a fugitive from justice with a probable price on his head, there could be but one thing to expect — immediate arrest and the inevitable consequences. In a vague sort of way, Oscar recalled the location