Pratt, Bartok and the Legend Universe are owned by Gekko & Paramount. I�m not making any money out of this. Story copyright 2001.
This story was inspired by reading an article about the print processes used for Dime Novel illustrations in the mid Nineteenth Century. The article can be found on the excellent Stanford Dime Novels and Penny Dreadfuls website, linked through the Tearoom on Steampunk Central.�I�m sorry Mr Legend, but you�re going to just have to hold still!�
Ernest Pratt, AKA Nicodemus Legend sighed and tried not to fidgit. He hated this annual ordeal of the illustrator from EC Allen Publishing coming out to Sheridan to record him in different poses for the next few Nicodemus Legend numbers. Not only was it a stifling hot July day, but he was wearing his full Legend regalia for the sitting, complete with starched collar, thick vest and jacket.
The artist, Johnson, to his credit, was excellent. Only the best for the most popular dime novel character in the Allen collection, thought Pratt smugly, although the feeling of wellbeing didn�t last long as he could feel disgusting damp patches starting to spread under his arms as he sweated in the midday sun on a rise just outside of Sheridan. The dramatic landscape may look wonderful from an artistic point of view, but he was suffering and starting to dream of a cool drink of bourbon.
Johnson was not having to suffer the heat, sitting under a small canopy complete with table and chair. His carving tools were set out carefully ready for the actual carving of Pratt�s image.
The artist thoughtfully licked his pencil and continued to carefully sketch the writer�s visage on the block of hard wood that the engraving would be produced from. Back in Maine, at Allen�s printers, it would be covered with ink to produce the printed images on the dime novel covers. He periodically looked up to note some feature of Pratt�s appearance, and would then bend almost double as he squinted at his drawing, his fine white hair flopping over his face and adding to his protection from the solar glare.
Pratt took advantage of his studiousness to surruptitiously loosen his collar.
Johnson looked up, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. �I saw that, Mr Legend, you really mustn�t move or this will take even longer.�
Pratt glared. Darn! Caught like a naughty schoolboy!
After what felt like hours Pratt glimpsed his friend and colleague, Janos Bartok sidling up to the tent. Pratt didn�t dare move but he called out. �Ho, Bartok! Come to watch the show?�
Bartok, noticing his friend�s forced position came into his direct line of sight. �Oh come on, Ernest,� he admonished, �This doesn�t take long and it is certainly worth the effort.�
�At the very least,� he added slyly, �it pampers your considerable ego!�
Pratt glared.
Finally, Johnson straightened and held the block up so that he could compare his likeness to his subject. �Looks good, Mr Legend,� he remarked. �You can go off with your friend for an hour or so while I carve this, then we�ll move onto the �coonskin hat cover illustration. I�ve asked that young fella, Skeeter, to bring in a horse from the stable to be Morie for that one.�
Pratt groaned. �Coonskin hats and a horse! His day couldn�t get any worse.
He stood from the seat he�d been perching on for who-knew-how-many hours and stretched gingerly as his stiffened muscles began to groan in protest.
Bartok smiled and stood from his seat in the fork of a nearby tree where he had retreated to work on some complex equations for his next project. �Come Ernest, let�s go to the Buffalo Head while Mr Johnson works. We can bring a horse back out with us.�
Pratt sighed, and Bartok could see the look of dread in his friend�s eyes. He quirked an eyebrow. �I�ll even buy you a pot of your special tea� he added, noting with satisfaction that the prospect of hard liquor improved Pratt�s disposition instantly.
Pratt was touched. Bartok rather disapproved of his alcoholic indulgences. To make this offer showed he understood the depth of Pratt�s suffering.
�See you later, Mr Legend,� called Johnson as he looked up from his work, already having begun carving the dime novel illustration with a special tool, a burin. Small chips of wood began to fly off the work surface, creating fine lines and indentations that would later define Pratt�s likeness in the wood cutting illustration.
The two men headed back towards town.
�Oh, by the way, Mr Legend,� called Johnson as they walked away, �Mr Allen says that if I catch you drinking liquor whilst I�m here I�ve got to tell you you�re dropped!�
Pratt stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes bulged. Without his special �tea�, how would he survive the sitting session?
Bartok smirked. �Don�t worry, Ernest, all through history great men have had to suffer for their art.�
Pratt glared. �Don�t Bartok. Once this is over, you�re not going to buy me just a pot of bourbon, you�ll buy me a darn barrel full!!!!�
fin
This story copyright 2001 Sarah O�Donoghue. As with everything else on the Steampunk Central Website no profit is derived from this work, and all contents are for entertainment and educational purposes only. See main index page for full disclaimer.
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