Screenland (May-Oct 1941)

kept the tunnel from caving in, that's all," Steve said with elaborate sarcasm. "I'll take a look and see if there's another exit." It wasn't only one tunnel. It was a maze of them, but Joan kept close behind him as he searched, in spite of the hostile silence between them. Then Steve heard her teeth chattering as she pulled her fur coat closer around her and stopped abruptly. He built a fire from some of the broken pieces of old wood lying around, sloshing some of the kerosene from the lantern over it to make it burn. "You better stay here and dry out while I take a look at this next tunnel," he said. "You mean the last one?" Joan asked, and then she found she couldn't hold back her tears any longer. Steve looked at her coldly. "I had you pegged. I made a bet with myself that you'd be boo-hooing into your hankie within an hour. Come on now, you must have been up against this sort of thing before. There must have been some crisis at the Stork Club when the waiter brought you the wrong wine. I bet you squared your shoulders and faced it then." "Why must you bring up the past?" Joan sobbed, and Steve looked at her grimly. "Because I don't think our future is worth talking about," he said. She was still crying when he made his way into the last tunnel. Steve was about to give up when he saw a wooden partition with a hole in it and climbed through it. Then he blinked. He was standing in Pop's pantry and as he started to laugh he heard the trap door open and saw Pop peering down on him. Pop climbed down into the cellar and cautioning Steve to silence, whispered that the sheriff and two reporters had come and were searching the ruined buildings of the town for them. "But you're not licked yet," Pop grinned. "All you got to do is go back and keep her in the mine. It's a cinch her pop'll come hotfooting it here and when he does 1 11 let you know and you can hand her over and collect the money. Wait ! I'll fix you some breakfast before you go back. How do you want your eggs?" "If I wanted them fried, you'd scramble them," Steve said. "So I'll take 'em scrambled." "Okay, I'll fry 'em," Pop said cheerfully, disappearing up into the kitchen. But a moment later he was back with a sandwich in his hand. "Quick," he said giving it to Steve. "Another plane just landed. You better go back till I make sure who it is." The sandwich was good, ham with just enough mustard to make it interesting. Steve munched it as he made his way back to Joan, feeling guilty as he ate it. Besides, he hated to have Joan miss a meal. Every pound she might lose would mean ten dollars out of his pocket. But he couldn't bring Joan food without her knowing there was a way out of the tunnel. And when she tried to smile as he came up to her, he felt guiltier than ever. Joan fighting mad was one thing. Joan the way she was now, softeyed and frightened, was another. Steve was amazed at the feeling that swept over him. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her there and kiss the traces of the tears away from her eyes. He'd never known he could feel this way about any girl. "You'll be all right," he said. "You maymiss a couple of meals before you get out of here, but that's all. Somebody'll dig us out." "It's kind of you to try to shield me," Joan said quietly. "But it isn't necessary. I've always wondered what it would be like to face death. Now I know. And who'll there be to mourn for me? Just my father and a couple of headwaiters. Gosh !" "How about this Brice fellow?" Steve asked. "I'm not so sure about him," Joan said uncertainly, realizing she hadn't thought of him once, even with death staring her in the face. "I guess that was just silly and useless and impulsive like all the things I've done. I really haven't got a thing to show for my twenty-three years. At least you've got something, a wife and two children." She looked at him wistfully. "Have you got a picture of your wife?" "No, I haven't." Steve wished he never had shown her that snap-shot. "Clara takes an awful picture." "You know," Joan said, "you don't seem like a married man with two children at all." She waited for him to say something and when he didn't went on hesitantly : "At a time like this it seems, wrong to harbor ill feelings or grudges. I want you to know I forgive you for everything." She held out her hand and Steve took it and now her voice was so low he could hardly hear it. "And I'm sorry / didn't meet you before Clara." "Joan," Steve's voice rose exultantly as he pulled her towards him. "I'm not married and I haven't any children. That was only a tactic I used to keep from getting roped in. And I'm glad I used it too, because now I'm free and ripe and ready to be roped in." She laughed and it wasn't like the other times she had laughed, but gentle and sweet and tender. "You're a cheap and vile and deceitful liar," she said happily, and then to show she didn't mean a word of it she lifted her lips to be kissed. And funny the way it was with Steve when he kissed her, as if it was the first time he'd ever kissed any girl. She drew away from him then, her eyes blazing. "Mustard!" she cried. "You've been eating. You know a way out of here. You've known from the beginning!" And she began running into the other tunnel and saw the opening leading into the pantry. Steve didn't catch up with her until she had run up the steps into the kitchen and was eating one of the sandwiches Pop had left on the table. "Joan," he begged. "Are you going to let a little food come between us ? I wasn't trying to starve you. Honest. I was only trying to keep from being arrested. It was my liberty against your appetite." He stopped as the door opened and Allen came in. Joan looked at him for a startled moment, then ran into his arms. In a moment the room was full of people. The reporters and Pop and Tommy Keenan and a man Allen told Joan he had brought along to marry them, a Justice of the Peace from Las Vegas. Then another man came in, a big burly man who didn't need the star on his vest to show he was a sheriff and who held out a pair of handcuffs as he walked menacingly toward Steve. "Hold on, Sheriff," Pop said then. "You can't arrest this man. You've got a California warrant and this is Nevada!" Another reporter came dashing into the room. "Just heard a flash on the radio," he shouted. "Old man Winfield left Las Vegas half an hour ago. That means he'll be here any minute." For just a moment hope rose high again in Steve's heart. Then it was shattered as Allen turned to Joan. "If this is Nevada, the Justice can marry us right away." Steve felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his heart. "This girl isn't in any mood to get married," he protested. "She's just been through a horrible experience." Then when Allen's only answer was that triumphant smirk, Steve turned to Joan. "You can't marry him," he pleaded. "You've only known him four days. Why, you've known headwaiters longer." Joan hesitated and was lost. "I — I think I'd rather be married in Las Vegas, Allen," she faltered. Steve felt he had won that round anyway. Then he wondered, when he saw Pop look From pothooks to movie parts is the saga of Patti McCarty, above, Dorothy Lamour's ex-secretary. Her first film, "Under Age." ing at him, shaking his head and making gestures that he wanted to talk to him. As soon as he could Steve followed him into the other room. "This isn't Nevada," Pop whispered. "I just told the sheriff that to keep him from arresting you. This is California. Look!" He showed him a sofa pillow elaborately embroidered with the inscription "Palace Hotel, Bonanza, California" to prove it. "You go right back in there before they fly off to Las Vegas, and make them get married here where it won't be legal," he said. "Maybe by that time her father will be here and you can collect your money." But Steve wasn't thinking of the money then, or even the plane. He was only thinking of Joan. He had to keep her from flying to Las Vegas. "Allen, my boy," he laughed as he went back to the others, "there's nothing I want more right now than to see you two get married. And I want to thank you for saving me from something I would have regretted all my life. When I think how close I came to falling for that girl, it makes me dizzy." He turned to Joan and pretended to mop his forehead. "I admit I went a little soft in the tunnel, but out here in the cold, clear light I've come to my senses. My only regret is that I can't be at Las Vegas for the ceremony and be your best man." "What a story !" Tommy Keenan broke in suddenly. "The man who abducts the girl turns out to be best man at the wedding. But I suppose the sheriff wouldn't let you get away." Suddenly he turned to Joan. "Say, why don't you get married here?" he asked. Joan glared and shook her head and Steve laughed easily. "Leave the poor girl alone," he said. "Perhaps she can't bear to see me at the wedding. Perhaps she doesn't trust herself—" Joan couldn't take that. "Of all the conceited, insufferable cads," she blazed. "Me afraid? Why, I'll get married here, any time, with fifty of you around. Me afraid!" And she was still sputtering even when she whispered "I do." 68