the camera, cussin' me for signin' him up as a matinée idol and remarkin' that never before in his life had he felt like such a darn fool. They had a terrible time gettin' him to use make-up, and when Nada Nice first throwed her soft arms around his manly neck, as per the scenario, you could see the glow from the Kid's face in Brazil. This brung a sneer from Nada and a involuntary giggle from Hamilton—his first mistake.
But it was in the fight-scene rehearsals that Kid Roberts showed he was not born for the movies. The champ had never stalled in his life and he couldn't stall now—that is, he couldn't pull the wallops he sent at Hamilton or flop to the mat as if he'd been floored with a punch and make either of 'em look like the real thing. He was no faker, and of course he was careful not to hurt Hamilton, with the result that many's the foot of film was throwed away on bouts which wouldn't of give a fight fan any more thrill than you give a ex-manicurist when you ask her can you hold her hand. Van Dyke tore his hair and raved all over the lot, but they was nothin' stirrin'. The Kid wouldn't take advantage of Hamilton and tear into him for real and he wasn't enough of a actor to fake the thing well, so, as the French remarks, what would you?
Right here I would like to say that this Monsieur Hamilton was far from a set-up for any man. Big, rugged, fast, in perfect condition, and a two-handed puncher, he looked capable of extendin' the Kid in any kind of a fight. As far as that part of it goes, they's plenty of husky, clever guys, which never
