The director lit a cigar and moved forward to the stage. "Lennox, you're too far up stage. Register fear, Daisy. That's the idea. Now, then, Miss Winters. Keep your eyes on Daisy as you come into the room. No--no--no! That won't do at all." Yeager left them to their rehearsal troubles and strolled back to his boarding-house. He would not be needed till afternoon. He spent a half-hour softening the leather of his right boot around the ankle. A man cannot tumble from a running horse, let himself be dragged forty yards, and then slip his foot from the stirrup of a cowpony that has become frightened without taking a big chance. But it was his business to take chances. He always had taken them. And he knew that they could be minimized by careful preparation, expertness, and cool skill of execution. As it turned out, Yeager had to make his fall twice. The ground selected for the set was a bit of level space just at the foot of a hillside. The rider went down hard on his shoulder at exactly the spot selected, but he had miscalculated slightly and the force of the fall dragged his foot from the boot at once. His calculations worked better at the second attempt. Hanging on by a toe-hold, he was dragged bumping over the rough ground. His revolver came out on schedule time and flew into the air. When Farrar gave the word,--which was at the moment the galloping horse was opposite the camera,--Steve worked his foot free, leaving the boot still clinging to the stirrup. Yeager got to his feet rather unsteadily. The fall had been an unusually hard one, and it had not helped any to be dragged at full speed over the bumpy ground. Maisie Winters ran forward and slipped an arm around his waist to support him. "You dandy man! I never did see one so game as you, Steve." The cowpuncher grinned. He liked Maisie Winters. There was about her a boyish, slangy camaraderie that made for popularity. "Says the extra to the star, 'Much obliged, ma'am.'" "You're no extra. In your own line you're as big a star as we've got. I know there isn't a rider in the country like you. You're a jim-dandy." "He's quite a family pet," contributed Harrison sourly. Farrar came forward from the camera, his eyes shining. "Some picture, I'll bet. Good boy! You pulled it fine, Steve. Didn't he, Threewit?" The director nodded. He was wondering how much he would have to raise this young man's salary to hold him from rival companies. "Sho! I just fell out of the saddle, Frank. Most any one can fall off a horse." Harrison laughed spitefully. "I saw him do a better fall than that oncet." Farrar was on the spot. "I saw you do a mighty good one the same day." "Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled the heavy. "Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do you weigh?"