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indeed.
Glancing up at the sky, she had to acknowledge that the weather
seemed cooler today. Maybe his bad moods really were a result of
the sweltering heat.
    “Good morning, Miss Pottersby. You look
swell.”
    Hmmm. That made two swells and one
abysmal—her personal assessment. Mari decided to withhold her final
judgment until she saw what Martin called the test.
    “Thank you.” The two words were mechanical.
It was a darned good thing these silly pictures were silent,
because Mari knew from bitter experience that she couldn’t emote
worth a darn. Her teacher had told her that more than once, during
the catastrophes that passed for class plays.
    “Ready, Ben?” Martin called to a man who
stood behind the motion-picture camera, an intricate contraption
the likes of which Mari had never seen before. It was big and
box-like, had a crank on its side, and stood on a tripod. Martin
had explained during their meal at the Mojave Inn that great
advances were being made almost daily in the motion-picture
industry. Folks were developing fancier cameras and better
lighting. They were even building huge motion-picture palaces in
cities large and small across the nation.
    Mari wondered what would happen to the world
if all those geniuses spending their brain power on the pictures
were to turn it to something useful. Like medicine. Eliminating
poverty and famine. Mining engineering.
    She was nervous. That was the only reason she
was finding fault here; she was sure of it.
    The man named Ben stepped out from behind his
camera, signaled to Martin that he was ready with a wave and a
grin, and Martin took Mari’s arm. “Now try not to be nervous, Mari.
We’re all on your side.”
    He’d called her Mari. She blinked at him, so
surprised he’d used her given name that she forgot to be scared of
the camera. She wondered if that had been his intention. After the
cameraman started turning the crank, a huge grinding noise erupted,
and Mari whirled around to see what was going on.
    “Good!” Martin cried. “Now walk up to Ben.
He’s the guy behind the camera.”
    Well, heck, this wasn’t so hard. Mari even
smiled a little as she did as Martin had instructed her. A big pop
startled her, she saw a sprocket fly out of the camera, and she
worried for a second that something terrible had happened. Martin’s
voice at her back reassured her.
    “That’s natural, Mari. Those sprockets chunk
out every few seconds. It’s the nature of the filming process.”
    “Oh. All right.” She wondered what she was
supposed to do now. Fortunately, Martin also directed motion
pictures from time to time, and he told her.
    “Can you walk over to the fence now? Pretend
you’re picking flowers or something.”
    Picking flowers? In Mojave Wells? Mari
shrugged and did as directed. She felt silly bending over to pluck
imaginary flowers out of the air, but she’d built a fairly sizable
bouquet before Martin gave her another direction.
    “Wonderful. You’re doing swell! Now, can you
turn quickly and look frightened, as if someone you fear is
creeping up on you?”
    “Sure. I guess so.”
    “I’ll help,” came a voice she recognized from
behind her.
    She stood abruptly and turned to see Tony
Ewing stalking toward her like the villain out of a nightmare. She
backed up, honestly frightened for a moment as she took in the grim
expression on his face and heard him snarl wickedly.
    “You don’t have to pretend so hard,” she
muttered, and put up a hand as if to ward him off.
    “Who’s pretending?” he growled.
    He sounded as if he meant it, and Mari
experienced a moment of real panic. She felt her eyes open wide,
and she backed up until she bumped flat against the fence. Still he
came at her. She cried, “No! Stop it!”
    “Never!” His voice had taken on a timbre Mari
had never heard in a human being. He sounded like a human version
of Tiny when he was seriously irked.
    This wasn’t funny anymore. It got less funny
when Tony reached out, grabbed