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An eight-millimeter motion-picture projector! Rick motioned to the front of the machine with a trembling hand. "Look, there's a film in place, and it's a continuous loop. Once it's threaded it will repeat over and over unless cut off." Scotty was probing into the box. "Batteries. Two of them, twelve volts each. And I'll bet the motor in the projector is designed to operate on twelve volts.
The most popular type is the .450 and .475 cordite double-barreled ejector, hammerless rifles, and these are the ones that every elephant hunter should have. We started out with the definite purpose of getting three .450s one for Mr. Akeley, one for Mr. What we really got were three .475 cordites, two nine-millimeter Mannlichers, one eight-millimeter Mauser, and two .256 Mannlichers.
Oddly enough, he thought of a beautifully carved meerschaum pipe he'd found with the milk that morning. He'd presented it to an orphanage mainly because, irrationally, he'd have liked to keep it. There had been other expensive gifts he'd have liked to keep. Bourbon. A set of expensive dry-flies. An eight-millimeter movie camera. Scotch.
The eight-millimeter frames were pretty small, but not so small that he and Scotty couldn't make out the image. The scene had been shot against a black background, that was clear. Only the central figure was illuminated, the figure of a Union cavalry officer. "Meet the Blue Ghost," Rick said happily. "Delighted," Scotty said emphatically.
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