Thus did the professor conclude his introduction of the feature which, later, was to drive him and his kind out of business.
A click, a sudden buzzing as if a giant swarm of bees were flying about in the center of the hall where the long, cylindrical gas tanks stood, and a six foot square of light flashed on the white curtain which had been lowered to the stage.
The pictures flickered and jumped a great deal, and at times streaks on the old film gave the idea that the boat loads of infantry were approaching the shore in a torrent of rain, but the figures moved, nevertheless, and unslung rifles, and formed into companies.
"The charge up the hill under fire," supplemented the operator. They had no titles for the motion pictures in those days.
Amid a steady whirring, flashes of smoke appeared from the thickets overhanging the shore. A soldier threw up his arms, another pitched headlong into the sand, and the Americans swept up the slope in a charge which brooked no obstacles. Little girls handclapped vigorously, while the boys pounded on the floor with their feet and gave vent to weird whistles of enthusiasm.
"And so San Joon was taken!"
"The hill wasn't on the water that way," John interrupted excitedly. "I've got a book at home with maps and everything. Wasn't that way at all."
"Let's pretend it was," Louise replied philosophically.
The lights flashed on in the hall to dazzle the eyes of the audience. A chair squeaked. There was a sound of footsteps near the doorway.
"Keep your seats," cautioned Professor O'Reilley as he jumped up on the stage. "The drawing for prizes will now take place. Ryan," to his assistant, "bring them out on the stage as I call for them."