il six. Then he strolled leisurely down
the village street and out the lower end to where he could view the
cabin. Work for the day was plainly over. The director and his assistant
lingered before the open door in consultation. A property man and an
electrician were engaged inside, but a glance as he passed showed that
the blankets were still in the bunks. He did not wait to see more, but
passed on with all evidences of disinterest in this lowly abode.

He ascertained that night that the fight must have been had. The table
was overturned, one of the chairs wrecked, and there were other signs
of disorder. Probably it had been an excellent fight; probably these
primitive men of the woods had battled desperately. But he gave little
consideration to the combat, and again slept warmly under the blankets.
Perhaps they would fight again to-morrow, or perhaps there would be less
violent bits of the drama that would secure him another night of calm
repose.

The following morning found him slightly disturbed by two unforeseen
needs arising from his novel situation. He looked carefully at his
collar, wondering how many days he would be able to keep it looking
like a fresh collar, and he regretted that he had not brought his
safety-razor to this new home. Still the collar was in excellent shape
as yet, and a scrutiny of his face in the cracked mirror hanging on
the log wall determined that he could go at least another day without
shaving. His beard was of a light growth, gentle in texture, and he
was yet far from the plight of Mr. Montague. Eventually, to be sure,
he would have to go to the barber shop on the lot and pay money to be
shaved, which seemed a pity, because an actor could live indefinitely
unshaven but could live without food for the merest fragment of time.

He resolved to be on the lookout that day for a barber-shop set. He
believed they were not common in the photodrama, still one might be
found.

He limited himself to the lightest of breakfasts. He had timidly
refrained from counting his silver but he knew he must be frugal. He
rejoiced at this economy until late afternoon when, because of it, he
simply had to eat a heavier dinner than he had expected to need. There
was something so implacable about this demand for food. If you skimped
in the morning you must make amends at the next meal. He passed the time
as on the previous day, a somewhat blase actor resting between pictures,
and condescending to beguile the