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Kong, what, ten years ago?"
    "Fourteen," Cooper said with a thick Southern accent. He was plump, middle-aged, of medium height. At first, he did not seem very impressive--but then Peter caught his direct gaze.
    "You madeKong? " Peter asked, suddenly awed.
    "You betcha. OBie, over there, created our big ape." Cooper pointed to the older man in the worn suit. "Some of our dinosaurs we put together from footage we shot forPlateau. The public, bless 'em, didn't much like the mix."
    "I saw it last year," Peter said. "I thought it was great."
    "A good story has some staying power . . ." Cooper said with a shrug and a grin. "But it damned near broke us. Ever sinceKong, Monte thinks I'm a jinx. He refuses to work with me."
    Peter wondered who Monte was, but they moved on. Shellabarger steered them toward Gluck, who was standing next to the grandfatherly fellow. They and the balding young man were in conversation with a tall, slender fellow with a thick stand of wiry salt-and-pepper hair. "Monte, may I introduce our writer and sstill photographer, from theNational Geographic, Anthony Belzoni, and his son, Peter . . . My friends, thiss is the great director Ernest Schoedsack. Everyone calls him Monte."
    "Only if I say so," Schoedsack said gloomily, and then gave a small smile. "Glad to meet you." He had a tall, square head. His ears stuck out on each side like handles and he looked half blind; he wore very thick glasses. "This is O'Brien, my camera and effects man. And this is . . ."
    "Ray," the balding young man said, quickly catching that Schoedsack had forgotten his name. "Ray Harryhausen."
    Peter and Anthony shook hands all around. Schoedsack took Gluck aside and Anthony struck up a conversation with O'Brien and Harryhausen.
    Peter tuned in first to what Gluck and Schoedsack were murmuring.
    "Last time we went in there, to makePlateau, we lost a plane and three men. Damned near lost OBie when a boat went the wrong way down a rapids. That Caron�s a bitch of a river, Lotto."
    "Don't I know it," Gluck said.
    Peter felt his neck hairs tingle.
    O'Brien and Harryhausen examined Anthony's Leica. O'Brien described a new portable 35-millimeter movie camera and the newest Technicolor film stock. "Whole thing weighs less than thirty pounds."
    "Sounds like a good dance partner," Anthony said pleasantly. "Hope I'll be able to squeeze a few snaps in between."
    "This isn't my strong suit, y'know," O'Brien confided, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm good; I've been filming live action since beforeKong, but Ray and I have been hoping we could get enough money together to try again."
    "Try what again?" Peter asked. "A fantasy film," O'Brien said. He pulled a wry face. "All this focus on real animals. Not that I don't like dinosaurs. They're swell. I put some of my own together forCreation. "
    Harryhausen chuckled. In a soft, deep voice, he said, "We've been put in the shade by real life."
    "Yeah," O'Brien said. "But it was sound killed that old beast, not live dinosaurs. Silent movies aren't worth the gun-cotton they're printed on."
    "Nitrocellulose," Harryhausen explained to Peter.
    "Oh," Peter said.
    Harryhausen smiled. At first glance, his face and expression seemed affable, even simple--sympathetically angled eyebrows, quick smile, a low-key manner. But when Harryhausen looked directly at him, Peter sensed keen intelligence, real determination--and almost infinite patience.
    "Ray would like to animate things we've never seen before, creatures from Venus and Mars, Greek gods and fire-breathing dragons. But dinosaurs spoiled the public for any of our imaginary monsters." O'Brien raised his hands in resignation.
    "Fickle," Anthony commiserated.
    "At least we've got work," Harryhausen said softly.
    "Yeah, moviemaking is about the public's dreams, not our own," O'Brien said with a sigh.
    ***
    A long table and folding chairs had been set up in the center ring of the big top. The dinner was brief, not very lavish, but at the end, everybody toasted everybody