and there was a restless movement of the crowd like race horses at the barrier.
"Camera!"
The cameraman who had been waiting for the signal squinted into the camera for his last focus; then the grinding off of film could be heard as he turned the crank.
"Ones!" shouted Bacon. "Moving quickly! Pick up your feet, ones!"
"Twos! What're you stalling for, twos?"
"Twos! What're you stalling for?" echoed Letcher, running breathlessly on the outskirts of the set, ordering, cursing, prodding the laggards into action.
Bacon was growing more frantic every moment. "Choose your partners for the dance," and his voice roared above the confusion.
"Music! Louder!" he cried. "Kessler, get the hell out of the foreground. . . . You, you with the blond hair! Don't look into the camera . . . dance! Put some pep into it, some spirit! Hey, there, Eleanor. Those boys standing over there by the stairway. Get rid of them!"
He was now leaping upon the platform shouting in a frenzy.
"Laughing! Talking! Having a hell of a good time!"
"Having a hell of a good time!" echoed Letcher. "Ha-ha-ha! That's it! Ha-ha-ha!" with forced laughter that was terribly grotesque.
Then something happened. . . .
No one noticed when Bacon gave the signal to Bill, the property man, or saw the latter wave a handkerchief to one of his carpenters. That is why they were unprepared for what followed.
