The cameras clicked, the guns banged, a background of boy scouts applauded, and the dust rose in billows to the sky.
But all the same something was wrong.

I could imagine that this kind of business took a good deal of planning from the point of view of the movie-merchant, for his purpose was not the same as that of the officer in command.

You know how a photographer finicks about and is dissatisfied with a pose that seems all right to his sitter.

I should have thought the spectacle enough to get any cinema audience off their feet, but the man on the scaffolding near me judged differently.

He made his megaphone boom like the swan-song of a dying buffalo.