wouldn't consider such a compromise. You've made a bad break, and I
believe you made the first one when you brought that bunch of cowboys
back with you. If they can do straight dramatic acting, all right; if
not, you'd better let them out and start over with professionals."

For a peaceable man, Martinson was angry. He had taken some trouble in
smoothing down the ruffled temper of Bently Brown, even before viewing
the trial run of the picture. Martinson hated disputes as a cat hates to
walk in fresh-fallen snow, and the parting tirade of Bently Brown had
affected him unpleasantly.

For a full two minutes Luck smoked and did not speak, and as he had done
once before, Martinson repented his harshness when it was too late.
"Personally, your version struck me as awfully funny," he began
placatingly.

"Who gives a cuss how it struck you personally?" Luck stood up with
unexpected haste. "You trim and truckle to every one that comes along
with a gold brick, and that's why you have to sit up nights to nurse the
profits. If you had a little stiffening in your back, the profits would
show up better. You paid good money for this bunch of rot, and turned it
over to me to whip into a profitable investment. You can make the rounds
of the studio and get a vote on whether I've done it or not. Put it up to
your Public; they'll mighty soon let you know whether the film's a
money-getter. If it is, your business as general manager and president of
the Acme Film Company is to get Bently Brown in line for the production
to go on. A clause such as you mention in the agreement with him shows a
bigger blunder on your part than anything I've done or ever will do. If
you'd had as much sense as Ted, you'd have kept that clause out. If you'd
had half as much brains as the comedy burro out in the corral you'd never