Alice Joyce's participation in all or any of these films has not been established with complete certainty. DeWitt Bodeen does not list any films for her until 1911, and neither does the Internet Movie Database, but she recalled The Engineer's Sweetheart as her first film. Since these films probably no longer exist, it may be difficult to ascertain whether she was playing leading roles, appearing as an extra, or was not yet appearing before the camera unless detailed production files from the Kalem Studios exist.
The Deacon's Daughter (Kalem, Jan. 7).--We find this dramatic film of considerable excellence, as indeed nearly all Kalem productions have come to be. The story is human, the acting is good and the villain, though somewhat conventional, is not altogether unreal. A young minister is in love with the deacon's elder daughter, but she is of flighty disposition and longs to become a stage dancer. A smooth stranger arrives at the critical time and she falls in love and elopes with him. Her younger sister has all the time secretly worshipping the young clergyman as she watched him write his sermons on his Blickens--on his typewriter. (Almost running in an "ad" here.) He eventually discovers this love and returns it and the two are married. Meanwhile the absent sister is having a gay time at gay suppers, but her dream ends when her husband runs off with another woman. Then her thoughts turn to her quiet country come and she returns a meek and subdued sister, to be welcomed into the hum-drum family circle. It is a merciful change that is given to the young woman's life, but the chances are she would have done no such thing. More likely she would have hunted up another man among her wild acquaintances and would have drunk the cup of gaiety to the dregs.
THE DEACON'S DAUGHTER.--Scene I.--The Minister's Dissatisfied Child Meets Morton, the Stranger. The opening picture shows us the broad side verandah of the parsonage. The old minister has seated himself out in the yard where he can bask in the warmth of the sun. Down at his feet is Ruth, his youngest daughter, a slight, gentle slip of a girl of sixteen. The old minister is helping her with her rhetoric lesson, stopping every moment or two to stroke her head. Along the path from the gate comes Estelle, the minister's elder daughter, a dashing, handsome girl, and with her the curate attached to the parish. The curate is very much in love with Estelle and they are accepted sweethearts, although Estelle is merely attracted by the young curate's handsome face. Now she is annoyed by something and the curate is trying to pacify her. His attention attracted by Estelle's angry voice the old minister rises as they approach. He inquires what the trouble is. Estelle tells him nothing. With a sigh the curate enters the house. The minister remonstrates with Estelle for her show of temper and as his wife calls him, he leaves the two daughters together. Now Estelle pours out to Ruth her dissatisfaction with the quiet, peaceful life of the parsonage and tells how she longs to go out into the world and become a dancer. Seizing the horrified Ruth by the waist she whirls her around in a mad dance. At this moment there appears coming up the path a tall, gentlemanly man, evidently a stranger to the town. Ruth flees to inform her father. The stranger compliments Estelle upon her dance and is telling her she should be on the stage, when the old minister descends the steps. Morton, the stranger, displays the card of the man he is seeking. The old minister informs him he is going in the wrong direction. At this, Estelle volunteers to show the stranger the house. The old minister assents. As they start down the path together the curate comes from the house. The minister tells him of the stranger and exhibits the card. As he goes up the steps Estelle returns from the gate. At sight of the curate her chin goes up in the air and she crosses to the empty bench. The curate stands with a resigned look on his face.
Scene II.--The Villain Winning His way. The course of the curate's love has not been running smoothly lately. Seated out in the garden he is endeavoring to prepare his sermon. But his mind constantly wanders to Estelle and the stranger. Across the lawn comes Ruth. She seats herself on the hassock near the curate. Gentle little Ruth loves the young curate, although he has never suspected it. She is ever near him ready to do him any little service in her power, now replacing his papers when he brushes them from the table, now giving him a glass of water. Down the path from the house comes Estelle. The curate's eyes light up and he leaps to his feet. She tells him she is going for a walk. And may he accompany her? No, she prefers to go alone. Down towards the gate she goes. The curate looks after her, then returns to his seat. With his chin in his hand he watches her depart, while back of him stands Ruth, her eyes filled with comprehending pity. At their strysting [sic] place down the lane, Morton is waiting impatiently for Estelle. Ah, here she is. He greets her eagerly and pours compliments into her ear. He attempts to kiss her. Estelle prevents the caress. But she is not adverse to taking he walk with him that he is begging for, so off they stroll together. For an hour they wander through the pine trees. Across their path is the trunk of a young pine the wind has hurled down. Morton invites Estelle to sit. From his pocket he draws a handsome necklace and holds it towards her. At first, instinctively true to the teachings of her father, she refuses it, but Morton insists and clasps it around her neck. As he pours protestations into her ear Estelle believes him and gives him the kiss he is pleading for. Now Morton's infatuation for her leaps all bounds. In impassioned words he tells her of his love, begs her to come with him to the city. Clasping her in his arms he crushes her to him. But his vehemence frightens Estelle. Wrenching herself free she flees from him. He stands for a moment, calling her back, then hurries after her.
Scene III.--Estelle Determines to Marry Morton. Back to the parsonage come Morton and Estelle. Morton has been forgiven for his impetuosity, although Estelle refuses to go with him to the city. As he is bidding her good-bye he holds her hand, then tenderly kisses it. This is seen by the curate, who is approaching. Upon Morton's departure he remonstrates with Estelle. She answers angrily. He appeals to her in behalf of their engagement. Estelle, now thoroughly enraged, draws the engagement ring from her finger and holds it towards him. The curate gently refuses to take it. But Estelle throws it to the ground. At this moment the old minister comes slowly across the lawn. He greets Estelle fondly and calls her to a seat on the arm of his chair. Happening to glance up, he notices the necklace she is wearing. He asks where she got it. She refuses to tell. The old minister sternly demands an answer to his question. Estelle finally falters Morton's name. At this the old man's face hardens with stern anger. He holds out his hand for the necklace. Estelle, now thoroughly aroused, storms in anger, but finally gives it to her father. He orders he to go to the house. But Estelle, sobbing passionately, throws herself in a chair. The old minister crosses to the curate, who has been a silent, suffering witness to the scene, and begs him to come to the house. A they move away the curate turns in silent love to Estelle, but the old minister leads him on. After they have gone Estelle lifts her head. She is still violently angry. Across her face comes a look of determination. Drawing paper and pen to her she writes to Morton, telling him she will go with him out into the world and become a great dancer. To-night at twelve he must come for her.
Scene IV.--The Elopement. That night at twelve Morton comes cautiously up to the front gate of the parsonage. Glancing about he whistles cautiously. Down the walk comes Estelle carrying her satchel. Morton greets her fondly. Estelle glances back longingly toward the silent house, but Morton picks up her grip and they move silently away. The next morning the old minister is out in the garden before breakfast walking up and down slowly thinking of the scene he had with Estelle, his favorite daughter, the day before, when Ruth comes rushing excitedly from the house. She holds out to her father a note telling him she found it pinned to the pillow in Estelle's room. It is Estelle's farewell note to her father. The old man, with a moan of anguish, sinks into a chair. At this moment the curate comes up and inquires what the trouble is. Ruth hands him the note. He reads it and stands stunned and grief-stricken. As Ruth is consoling her father the wife arrives. To her question of inquiry the old minister points to the note with trembling finger and brokenly bids her read it.
Scene V.--One Year Later--Estelle the Queen of the Midnight Revellers. It is midnight just one year after that night Estelle stole away from the silent, peaceful parsonage. What a contrast is presented. In a suburban cafe where the fastest set amongst the Bohemians of the great city are accustomed to meet for their late revels a champagne party is in progress. Scattered about are numerous overturned and empty bottles. At one of the tables an artist, who genius, before dissipation dragged it down, gave promise of great things is drinking with one of the city's celebrated demi-mondes. Two other habitues of the cafe arrive. Now across the garden comes Morton and Estelle. Gowned in a long clinging frock Estelle offers a striking picture, but already the story of the life she is leading is beginning to be told in the lines of her face. Boisterous greetings mark their arrival and her health is drunk as the queen of the party. A dance is promised and to the passionate strains of a wild Hungarian waltz the party whirl a bout in a delirium of drunken hilarity.
Scene VI.--The Curate Finds His Soul Mate. Back at the parsonage the life of the family has fallen into still more quiet and peaceful routine under the saddening influence of the absence of the elder daughter. In the garden Ruth is swinging idly backward and forward humming a little ditty. Up behind her the young curate steals and send her swinging up into the branches of the tree. Laughing at her cry of fright, he stops the swing and releases her. As they start forward he invites her to take a seat on the empty bench. In the year that has passed the curate has learned to know his own heart and he realizes it was not to the dashing Estelle the deeper feelings of his heart were given, but in gentle Ruth he has found his true soul mate. In a few simple fervent words he tells Ruth of his love. Ruth glances up shyly into his face, her eyes shining with devoted love, then she turns to him and is folded in his arms.
Scene VII.--Two years later--The Young Wife Deserted. Two years have passed. Out on the porch Estelle and Morton are having noon breakfast. Even Estelle's splendid heritage of health, given her by her healthy, wholesome girlhood in the parsonage, was unable to stand the strain of dissipation. She is now an invalid. The maid enters with a letter for Morton. Estelle sees the address is written in a woman's handwriting. Snatching it from his hand she demands the name of the sender. Laughing tauntingly, he tells her to read it, and goes into the house for his coat and hat. Estelle opens it and reads of Morton's plan to leave her for another woman. She reels at the shock. At this moment, Morton returns ready for his trip. Coolly disregarding her passionate appeals he throws a roll of bills in her lap. She orders him from her sight. He goes laughingly, sneering. Estelle, left alone realizes how desolate is her plight. Sick and alone with no one near her that cares whether she lives or dies. Across her brain, satiated with the dissipations of city life, comes the thought of the quiet, peaceful parsonage. It seems like Heaven to her. She will go back. Back to the patient, loving ones she left so eagerly three years before.
Scene VIII.--Estelle's Home Coming. Out in his garden the old minister is reading. Except for a more pathetic stoop to his shoulders the three years have passed lightly over his head. As he looks up he sees Ruth being slowly led down the path by her husband. This is the first time the young mother has left the house. The minister helps her to a chair. His wife follows with the baby. The old man stoops beside the sleeping baby, then after a word of congratulation to the proud father, returns to the house with his wife. Ruth begs for a drink of water and the curate goes for it. Left alone she closes her eyes , happy smile on her face. From the arbor beyond comes Estelle. She has come home. But the sight of Ruth's happy sleeping face is too much for her to bear and she starts to go. At this moment Ruth awakes, sees her and calls her. The curate, as he is returning with the water, sees Estelle. Dropping the glass he rushes towards her, calling excitedly to the old minister and his wife that Estelle has returned. The mother folds her lost daughter to her arms, but the old father's face darkens with anger. He cannot forgive Estelle for having disgraced him. Estelle drops to his feet and kisses his hand. At the well-remembered touch of the fingers of his best loved daughter the old man's face relaxes slightly. The struggle is a bitter one, but finally he turns and holds out his arms in forgiveness. Estelle rushes into them while the remaining members of the now reunited family with happy tears welling their eyes look on in thankful silence.
The Miser's Child (Kalem, February 23).--This is a well acted picture, telling a strong story with a theme that has not been overdone. An old miser dies from excitement when his daughter happens to discover his riches. The girl then falls into the hands of a designing mother, and her son, who give her a home with the intention of inducing her to marry the son. They intercept the letters written to her by her sailor sweetheart, who had gone away on a long voyage, and give her a forged letter, in which he is made to say that he intends marrying another. The mother and son craftily treat her with great kindness when she grieves over her lost lover, and in the end the son wins her consent to marry him, but on the wedding day the sailor appears before the ceremony has been performed and claims her. There is no attempt in this scene to bring about a forced dramatic climax, and this is rather to the credit of the picture, adding to its sincerity.
THE MISER'S CHILD.--Scene I. The Miser and His Daughter Nell.
Scene II.-- One Hour Later.
Scene III.--Nell's Friend, The Fisher Boy Jack.
Scene IV.--Jack Decides to Seek His Fortune.
Scene V.--The Miser's Death.
Scene VI.--The Franklins Plot to Steal Nell's Fortune.
Scene VII.--Franklin's Proposal.
Scene VIII.--The Forged Letter.
Scene IX.--Six Month's Later. Nell Promises to Marry Franklin.
Scene X.--The Interrupted Wedding.
The Borrowed Baby(Kalem, Aug. 10.)--The Kalem producers do not often indulge in comedy, but when they do it is usually worth while. This film sustains the company's reputation in this respect. The story, while not uproariously funny, is humorous, and the acting is natural and convincing. Only one character is burlesqued--the actor who comes to rehearse the party of amateurs. A baby is needed for the rehearsal, and the girls borrow it form a neighbor while the mother is out gossiping. When she reaches home and finds that the baby is gone she starts with a friend in a wild search, holding up everybody they meet with an infant and creating great commotion. Later the borrowed baby is returned and the young chap who replaces it is just in time to be soundly beaten by the enraged mother and a policeman.
THE BORROWED BABY.--The mixup all starts from the decision of the Bugleville Dramatic Society to produce an amateur play. The cast calls for a baby. They believing it necessary to have a real baby at rehearsal, one of the girls volunteers to go to the home of a friend and borrow one. The friend happens to be out at the time, but a note which is left on the table explaining the situation blows out the window. There is first shown the experience of the baby in the hands of the amateur dramatic society and then the sensation when the mother reaches home and discovers that the baby is gone. The village constable is called in and the house is ransacked without results. In the meantime, however, the rehearsal is ended and the company proceeds to the baby's home. The leading man is detailed to take the baby in. Of course he falls into the hands of the constable, who thinks he is a kidnapper, and the picture ends in a scream of laughter with everyone trying to explain.
The Heart of Edna Leslie(Kalem, Sept. 29.)--This society drama drags through a number of dull opening scenes in which a girl is betrothed to a foreign nobleman and then falls in love with an American youth. When it comes to a "show down" and both lovers resent her apparent duplicity, she goes into a faint and wakes up with her memory gone. She is finally brought to her senses when the American lover takes her walking in the old scenes where she had formerly lost her heart to him. The story is so highly improbable and devoid of sympathetic interest that the really good acting of the principals is lost.
The Engineer's Sweetheart (Kalem, Oct. 5.)--There is plenty of thrill and excitement toward the end of the melodrama, the acting is generally excellent and many of the scenes realistic, even to the long distance telephone booths. The story also ends with the proper discomfiture of the scoundrel and the victory of the honest and just, but the plot shows too much evidence of being made to order and turning out a misfit. The engineer is sent out on a special to carry an awful lot of money from one bank to another. His sweetheart sees a gang of robbers preparing to wreck the train; she sees them through a spy-glass which her lover has oddly enough presented to her as if for that very purpose. Some sort of telepathy or wireless tells her that her lover is in danger and she dashes off on horseback along the railroad track to foil the plot and warn the lover, and she gets there in time to be seized and pulled and hauled around ay the robbers in sight of the approaching train. In the meantime we have been seeing the lover's train passing along at a snails pace. But at last he gets there and the robbers are caught, all but the leader who is chased in the most exciting scenes of the picture. The girl herself makes the final capture, coming upon him from behind. If any uplifter shall claim that the picture teaches crime, it can easily prove an alibi. Even the tender little boys who are supposed to learn deviltry from the films would know better than to plan a train robbery over a public telephone and they would also know better than to wreck a train by piling up stumps on the track within a clear quarter-mile view of the approaching train.
THE ENGINEER'S SWEETHEART (Kalem)
The above scene is from a Kalem picture that is something out of the ordinary. "Rather expensive props," we remarked to Mr. Sam Long, referring to the engine shown in the picture. "Yes," he replied, "in this particular case we owned that particular railroad branch while the picture was being rehearsed and taken, and all other traffic on the road was held up. They may talk of expensive productions on the living stage, but what are they but stucco and paint and canvas. In the motion picture drama we give the real thing, whether it be a train of cars, a gold mine, a millionaire's yacht or his palace."
Yes, realism stamps the efforts of the motion picture producers of to-day. And they search for their scenes far and near. Mr. Long recently made a trip through Yellowstone Park and the great Northwest. Mr. Frank J. Marion has just returned from the wilds of Canada, where he says he was fishing and of course caught the largest trout of the season. But we opine that Kalem producers will follow up the trail and Kalem dramas and Indian stories will shortly appear, made in the natural settings selected by the two heads of the firm.
The Education of Elizabeth (Kalem, October 21).--The humor of this film is rather quiet for a cowboy comedy, but it is effective because it is sincere and quite natural and believable, although it requires considerable faith to accept the scenes of cultivated fields as cowboy country. Elizabeth is the rancher's daughter, and she is sent East to school. In four years she returns properly "finished" but unspoiled and still true to her cowboy lover. Now comes an Eastern aunt and her dudish son on a visit. The aunt is ignorant of Elizabeth's culture and proposes to take her back East to teach her society manners. Just for this Elizabeth plans to mislead her snobbish aunt, and she is joined in the plot by the cowboys and her father. The cousin is hazed by the cowboys and Elizabeth joins in the sport, to her aunt's great disgust, which is scarcely removed by Elizabeth showing up as a lady of society in the final scene. The part of Elizabeth, a new face in pictures, is well played and that of the cousin also.
Roses of the Virgin (Kalem, Nov. 25).--This is a tale of the Canadian woods, and it has the atmosphere delightfully presented with a story that has touching sentiment, although it is melodrama. The opening of the story is not as promising as is afterward developed. The scapegrace son of the wealthy father is sent away from home rather suddenly when it has been discovered that he has a wife and baby whom he has neglected. The father sends him to the woods to make a new man of himself, and he proceeds at once to attempt the ruin of the woodsman's daughter, who is so impressed by his elegance that she is about to elope with him when she is stopped by her discarded native lover, who has learned in the meantime that the rascal was already married. The youth had brought a bunch of roses taken from a shrine to give to the girl, and after the hurried departure of the unmasked libertine the young man replaced the roses at the shrine. Reconciliation of the two lovers naturally follows.
THE ROSES OF THE VIRGIN.--James Norwood, a wealthy lumber merchant, sends his dissolute son, Jack, to a lumber camp to give him a last chance to make good. The young's man's habits of life, however, are so fixed that he soon forgets his good intentions and attempts to exercise his wiles on Marie, the pretty daughter of the camp foreman, although he is already a married man. Marie had previously promised her troth to Pierre Lolliard, a young lumberman long in her father's employ, but under the glamour of Jack Norwood's city ways the forgets her rustic lover and was about to elope with him when the plan was frustrated through the agency of a bunch of flowers. Pierre's mother had taken the last roses from her garden to adorn a wayside shrine of the Virgin. Marie had asked Pierre to get her some flowers intending to wear them at her wedding. Pierre, in the innocence of the intended use of the flowers steals them from the shrine but, as if by a miracle, the roses are the cause of a revelation of the true character of Jack Norwood and the elopement is stopped just in time and as a reverent and fitting climax to the play Marie and Pierre take the roses and again lay them at the feet of the Virgin whence they were originally taken.
Rachel (Kalem, December 7).--This very strong and well acted picture tells a story of Russian oppression among the poor peasants of that country, and tells it in a way that is effective and thrilling although it does not stand close analysis in all its parts. A peasant shepherd has a pretty daughter who is beloved by a nobleman's son, but when the old shepherd's appeal of the redress of some grievance is denied by the youth's father with blows and eviction, he and his daughter disappear and join with the Nihilists. Five years are supposed to elapse and the girl is chosen to kill the nobleman, the father of her former sweetheart. She has a miraculous transformation from a poor peasant girl in these five years and is able to gain entrance to the condemned man's house disguised as a lady of fashion. Just as she is about to kill her intended victim the son discovers and stops her. There is a scene in which the two lovers recognize, but there can be no reconciliation, and she returns to the plotters, killing herself at the entrance of their den rather than report failure.
RACHEL.--Rachel is the daughter of an old shepherd who lives on the estate of Prince Fredrovna, a Russian aristocrat. By chance Rachel meets the young son of the prince who has concealed his identity and the two fall in love. Then Rachel's father has the misfortune to offend the prince and is horsewhipped and driven from the estate. Rachel goes with him and the young prince is in ignorance of her whereabouts. Later on, Rachel's father joins the extremist section of the nihilists. The death of Prince Fredrovna is decreed and Rachel is chosen to carry out the plot being still in ignorance the prince is her lover's father. Being well supplied with money she gains access to the prince's household and when a favorable opportunity occurs, is about to shoot him when she is confronted by her lover. The young man, torn by conflicting emotions allows her to leave the house unmolested and she goes back to the nihilists, there to acknowledge that she has failed. As she approaches the door and realizes the fate that is likely to await her when she tells her story, she makes up her mind to end her own life, and as the scene transfers to the room where the nihilist are meeting a shot is heard and as the door opens the lifeless body of the girl falls in. On the door is written her final message, "I Have Failed."
Rescue of Molly Finney (Kalem, December 9).--We are told that this film is based on history, and in many of the scenes the spectator might well believe that he was looking at pictures of the past--a past that goes back to our early colonial times. But there are other scenes that rudely shake this illusion, the most conspicuous one being the employment of a three-masted modern schooner to represent the seventeenth century sailing vessel of which Molly's lover was captain. And the scene was entirely unnecessary, as the story would have done very well without an actual view of the ship. Molly was stolen by Indians and sold to the French in Quebec as a slave. She succeeds in writing a message on a piece of birch bark, which she left behind and her sailor lover found it. Thus guided, he sailed to Quebec, passed himself off as a French gentleman, gained admittance to the house where Molly was an abused servant, and rescued her with much romantic eclat. The acting is excellent throughout, Molly showing marked ability.
THE RESCUE OF MOLLY FINNEY.--Mollie Finney was captured by some supposedly friendly Indians and taken to Quebec and there sold at auction. She was bought by a French Grandee as a servant and companion for his daughter. On the way from her native village on a long canoe trip, Molly managed to drop into the water a message written on birch bark. This message was found by Captain McLelland, who, in his sloop, The Rose, went to Quebec and succeeded in locating the Puritan girl where she was being held in slavery. His rescue of the girl forms the dramatic climax of the film and is an exceptionally strong and thrilling situation.
With Jane Wolfe, George Melford. A copy of this film is available at the Library of Congress under the title The White Man Take a Red Wife.(35 mm.)
Her Indian Mother (Kalem, December 16).--From this picture one would draw the conclusion that two extreme races cannot dwell in happiness together when their interests cease to meet. The twenty-year period of this play dated during the existence of the Hudson Bay Company, one would not expect to see clothes of such modern make and are seen here in the company's office and elsewhere. There was also no indication of a lapse of time in the scenes. Stephen Moore, a white man, send out by the Hudson Bay Company, bought a Indian wife. After a period of two years he received a summons to report to Montreal as soon as possible. He left his wife and baby behind, with a note requesting the superintendent of the trading post to look after her. She did not understand the letter and it was never delivered. The wife after three years' waiting returned to her father. Moore's prosperity did not seem to be sufficient excuse for his forgetting his wife, and his after actions do not prove him to be a man of that nature. He had visits from the trappers and should have heard. His wife died, and on her sixteenth birthday, the daughter she left was presented by her grandfather with the armlet Moore had given her mother years ago. About this time Moore, who had risen to manager of the company, was called back to the old haunts on a tour of inspection. He saw and recognized his daughter by the armlet. The old chief, without any show of resentment at his daughter's treatment, permitted his granddaughter to go off with her father. The daughter's education was more or less successful, but one day when the old trapper returned the talk of old days stirred her blood, and going away privately, she donned her Indian garb and stole back to her tribe. She was met by her old lover, who always went around in his war paint, and became his squaw. When the father returned he saw it was too late to reclaim her. The acting was very good, that of the halfbreed daughter deserving special mention.
HER INDIAN MOTHER.--The scenes are laid in the Hudson Bay country in comparatively recent years and cover the life of a Hudson Bay factor, showing him as a young man assuming his business in the wilderness and, as was common in those days, taking an Indian wife that he had purchased of her father in Indian fashion. A little girl is born of the union and the factor's life is running along ordinary channels until he is unexpectedly called back to Montreal. Her new duties absorb his attention and he soon forgets his home in the wilderness. There is a lapse of sixteen years, during which the little half-breed girl has grown up and her mother has died. A trip of inspection brings the factor back to the familiar scenes of his young manhood. There by chance he happens upon his own daughter. Impressed with her beauty and her likeness to himself he takes her back with him to Montreal, there educates and attempts to train her in the life of a white girl. She succeeds fairly well for time, but the call of the blood is strong and one day when the floodgates of her memory had been opened she finds her own old buckskin dress, puts it on and slips away to the tribe. There she is found by her heartbroken father in the tepees of a young brave whose squaw she has become, and the white man then realizes his loss.
In this her first extant film, Alice Joyce is impressive as the daughter who is claimed by her white father but returns to her mother's people and her faithful lover. Though not yet an accomplished actress in the most dramatic moments, she is as competent as her peers in the film and already has considerable screen presence. Though the storytelling technique is still somewhat crude, the action is clearly told and there are some nice scenic shots, particularly as she is being lead off on horseback and away from her Indian lover. It appears that this film was made in the East, before she transferred to the Glendale company.
Print viewed: 35mm reel at the Library of Congress.
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Last revised August 27, 2005