[Illustration: Linda Griffith and Mr. MacKay in “Mission Bells,” a Kinemacolor picture play taken at San Juan Capistrano. (_See p. 162_) ] In the picture, guards had been posted at night, but being tired, they fell asleep, so the Indians pounced upon the emigrants, slaughtering some and taking some prisoners, to be burned at the stake. The few survivors who escaped left numbers of dead pioneers behind. The shifting desert sands would soon cover the bodies and remove all trace of the massacre. The dead bodies were represented by the living bodies of members of the company who had to be buried deep in the alkali waste; and the getting covered up was going to be a dirty job for the living corpses. So those scenes had to be taken last. [Illustration: A rain effect of early days at Kinemacolor’s Los Angeles studio, known a year later as the Fine Arts Studio, where “The Birth of a Nation” and “Intolerance” were filmed. From “The House That Jack Built,” with Jack Brammall and Linda Griffith. (_See p. 245_) ] Little grains of sand gently falling upon one from out the property boys’ cornucopias, while unpleasant, could be silently endured; but when the property boys got the storm really started and the sand was being poured upon one thick and heavy, getting into hair and ears and eyes, no matter how protective the position one had assumed, there were heard smothered oaths from the dead people that no wild cowboy had ever excelled. Dell Henderson, dying with little old Christie Miller, was all humped up and writhing in the desert sands. And while Dell was just about to be featured as the far-famed gambler of the West in a line of showy parts, and while he felt that Mr. Griffith had a friendly feeling for him, his ardor for his movie job was beginning to cool. And when, after being extricated from his earthy grave, he found the boss, he lost all restraint. “Old man,” said Dell to David, “this is too much, I quit pictures, I’m through.” But the next day when all bathed and barbered up, he felt differently about it. But Dell hadn’t had it as rough as the atmospheric members of the company. Even the wives had been called upon for atmosphere, and were to make up and dress as men. They didn’t like the old trousers and the greasy felt hats that were passed out to them, and they weren’t keen on being recognized on the screen, in the unflattering costumes. So Mr. Griffith compromised: “All right, I’ll put you in the background and you can sit down.” At that the women became more amiable and agreed to help out the perspective. And in the last few hundred feet of the second reel, they joined the dead emigrants and were covered up in the whirlwind.