to eat him alive, are you?" the camera man wanted to know
pleasantly.

Steve pushed through to Harrison. A whimsical little smile of apology
crinkled the boyish face.

"It's on me, compadre. I'm a rube, and anything else you like. And I
sure am sorry for going off half-cocked."

A wintry frost was in the jet bead eyes that looked up at the puncher.
The sitting man did not recognize the extended hand.

"You'll be a heap sorrier before I'm through with you," he growled. "I'm
goin' to beat your head off and learn you to mind your own business."

"Interesting if true," retorted Steve lightly. "And maybeso you're
right. A man can't always most likely tell. Take a watermelon now. You
can't tell how good it is till you thump it. Same way with a man, I've
heard say."

He turned to the young woman, whose bright brown eyes were lingering
upon him curiously. This was no novel experience to him. He wore his
splendid youth so jauntily and yet so casually that the gaze of a girl
was likely to be drawn in his direction a second and a third time. In
spite of his youthfulness there was in his face a certain
sun-and-wind-bitten maturity, a steadiness of the quiet eye that
promised efficiency. The film actress sensed the same competent
strength in the brown, untorn hand that assisted her to rise to her
feet. His friendly smile showed the flash of white, regular teeth.

"The rube apologizes, ma'am. He's just in from Cactus Center and never
did see one of those moving-picture outfits before. Thirty-eleven things
were in sight as I happened round that bend, but the only one I glimmed
was you being mistreated. Corking chance for a grandstand play. So I
sailed in pronto. 'Course I should've known better, but I didn't."

Maisie Winters was the name of the young woman. She played the leads in
one of the Southwest companies of the Lunar Film Manufacturers. Her
charming face was known and liked on the screens of several continents.
Now it broke into lines of mischievous amusement.

"I don't mind if Mr. Harrison doesn't." She flashed a gay, inquiring
look toward that discomfited villain, who was leaning for support on his
accomplice Jackson and glaring at Yeager. Impudently she tilted her chin
back toward the puncher. "Are you always so--so impetuous? If so,
there's a fortune waiting for you in the moving-picture field."

Yeager did not object to having so attractive a young woman as this one
poke fun at him. He grinned joyfully.

"Me!