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"Yes!" says the Kid. "Correct! Step to the head of the cla.s.s. I told that to Stupid there and he says, 'No spika da Engleesh!'"
"Well," chirps Genaro, pattin' the Kid on the back, "let's all be the friend now, no? What's the use hava the fight?" He turns to Van Ness and takes his hand, "Meester Van Ness," he goes on, "thisa Meester Kid Scanlan. He'sa tougha nut--but nica fel'. He'sa fighting champion of the world. He'sa taka his fista _so_," he stops and waves his arms around, "everybody she'sa falla down!" He swings around on the Kid.
"Meester Kid Scanlan," he pants, "thisa Meester Van Ness. He'sa greata bigga actor. Oh, of the A numbera seven!"
"Yeh?" says the Kid, registerin' "I-should-worry!" and gazin' over at "Bomb Germo." "Well, that ain't my fault, is it? Who's the other guy?"
"Guy?" says Genaro. "Whata guy?"
"The phoney wop!" pipes the Kid, pointin' to the long, thin bird.
"Oh, heem!" snorts Genaro, snappin' his fingers. "He'sa n.o.body. Justa what you call the dresser for the granda Meester Van Ness."
"He's got a name, ain't he?" asks the Kid.
"Joosta Tony," answers Genaro.
"Good enough!" comes back Scanlan, walking across the room. "Hey, Tony!" he says. "They tell me you claim to be a Eyetalian."
"That'sa right!" pipes Tony, forgettin' himself and scowlin'.
"Well," goes on the Kid. "_Bomb Germo_!"
"No spika da Engleesh!" frowns Tony, waggling his shoulders.
"You big stiff!" roars the Kid, gettin' red in the face. "You won't speak nothin' when I get done toyin' with that odd face of yours!"
He makes a dive for Tony, but Genaro grabs him.
"Joosta one minoote!" pants Genaro. "It'sa maka me laugh! Ho, ho, I teenk I getta one, two hysterics! Fighting champion of the world, he'sa getta mad at the dresser!"
"By Jove!" pants Van Ness, givin' the Kid the up and down through the trick eyegla.s.s. "By Jove! I told Tony to converse with no one while we were here. What does this--this person mean by buffeting him about?
I thought this company was composed of ladies and gentlemen, not stevedores and longsh.o.r.emen!"
"Don't get gay, Fatty!" yells the Kid, strugglin' with Genaro. "I put bigger actors than _you_ to sleep. I gotta left hand that's got morphine lookin' like a alarm clock!"
"Waita, waita!" shrieks Genaro. "We musta all be the friend. Joosta waita when you and Meester Van Ness get better acquainta you'll be joosta like--"
"Germany and England!" b.u.t.ts in the Kid, tearin' himself away. "Come on!" he tells me. "Let's get away from here," he glares at Van Ness and Tony, "before certain parties makes any more cracks! If they do--I'll make 'em look like models for The Dyin' Gladiator!"
"Don'ta minda heem!" whispers Genaro to Van Ness, as we get over to the door. "He'sa fina fel'. He'sa no hurta the _bambino_--what you call ba-bee. Gotta taka bag of the salts with everything he'sa say. Gotta lots temperament!"
"A ruffian, _I_ should say!" remarks Van Ness loudly.
"Bigga bunka!" hisses Tony.
"What?" roars the Kid, swingin' around on them.
"Good day, sir!" pipes Van Ness, steppin' back of the desk.
"No spika da Engleesh!" says Tony, steppin' in back of his boss.
I yanked the Kid outside before violence was had by all.
Jason Van Ness stayed at Film City for about two months. Durin' that time he made as many friends as the ex-Kaiser would pick up in Paris.
They was two reasons for this, the first bein' that he was the most dignified and solemn guy I ever seen in my life. Stories that would put a victim of lockjaw in hysterics couldn't coax a snicker from that undertaker's face of his which would have made a supreme court justice look like a clown. In fact, if he'd been a judge and I ever come up before him, I would have took one flash at that face and asked him to gimme life and let it go at that! His favorite smokin'-room story was what causes spots on the sun or somethin' equally excitin', and pretty soon they was a standin' offer of a hundred bucks to the first guy that could make Van Ness laugh!
Some of the greatest comedians the movies ever seen laid awake nights and become famous on stunts they pulled off for the sole benefit of Van Ness--and all he did was to inquire if they was crazy or soused!
The second reason that Van Ness was as unpopular as snow durin' the world's series was because he was the greatest actor that ever moaned for the star's dressin'-room.
He was brought on to play the lead in one of them early Roman frolics where the extry people is called "martyrs" and hurled to the practical lions in the last reel, whilst the emperor raises his hand for the slaughter to begin, murmurin' "This is the end of a perfect day!" When Jason Van Ness walked to the middle of the arena, throwed one end of his cloak over his shoulder, faced the camera and give himself up to actin'--well, you forgot all his bad habits and thanked Heaven for lettin' you live to see him!
That baby was there!
He was stuck up, he had no friends, he wouldn't laugh, and he had a trick name and carried a dresser, but, Sweet Papa!--he was _some_ actor!
The Kid and me stood watchin' him the first time he worked, with our eyes and mouths as open as a mobile c.r.a.p tourney.
"Ain't he a bear?" asks Eddie Duke, comin' up. "That's all two-dollar stuff he's pullin' there, bo! Y' don't see actin' like that every day, eh?"
"Oh, I don't know!" says the Kid, takin' a fresh slant at Van Ness. "I bet I could give him a battle in Shakespeare, at that! I was a riot in 'Richard the Third,' wasn't I?"
"Cease!" sneers Duke. "This bird has got them cla.s.sics layin' down and rollin' over when he snaps his fingers. Did you ever see him in 'Quo Vadis'?"
"No!" says the Kid. "But I seen him in tights when they was--"
Just then Miss Vincent comes along. She's in the picture with Van Ness, playin' the beautiful Christian martyr which is tied to the lion's back in the fourth reel, because she won't quit chantin' "Now I lay me--" or somethin' like that. After that they throw her to the panthers with Abe Mendelowitz, another Christian martyr and the guy that built the scene. She told me that was the story of the thing, and asked me what I thought of it. Personally, I think them martyrs was a lot of b.o.o.bs. If I'd have been there, I would have bent the knee before them heathen idols and then done my private prayin' elsewhere.
The head martyr might have called me yellah, but no lion would have broke his fast on me!
While I'm thinkin' about this, Miss Vincent reminds me that she's waitin' for my verdict on the thing. The last I heard her say was about bein' tied to that lion.
"Well," I says, "I'll tell you. I think it's pretty soft for the lions myself and--"
"How are you and Stupid gettin' along?" b.u.t.ts in the Kid, pointin' to Van Ness and touchin' Miss Vincent's arm.
She frowns.
"You mustn't call him Stupid!" she says. "Mister Van Ness is an artist and a gentleman--and--and right now I want to tell you that I think all you men are wicked for the way you have been treating him! Here he is away out here, a stranger in a strange land, and simply because he is above the vulgar horseplay so popular around here, you ostracize him.
Because his grammar and dress is perfect he is a pariah! Don't you think he feels that? Isn't he human the same as the rest of you?
Why--why, if he were a woman, all the girls would have helped and encouraged him and made him welcome in any gathering while he was here.
Don't you think it hurt when you broke up that poker party last night when he came in? Or when he was deliberately excluded from that hunting trip by that wretched Eddie Duke? Or any of the--the mean, petty, little things you have done to him--all of you--since he's been here? Oh, you men are horrid!" She gathers up her skirts and flashes Scanlan a look, "I thought _you_, at least, were different!" she whispers--and trips into the picture!
For about three minutes the Kid stands lookin' after her without sayin'
a word. He acts like he has stopped one with his chin!
"The big English stiff!" he busts out finally. "What does he mean by comin' over here and gettin' me in a jam with my girl? I'll _get_ that bird, though, believe me!"
"What are you gonna do?" I says.