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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I'm not pretty enough for a picture actor," he said whimsically. "Better let me be a rustler and wear a mask, if you don't want folks to throw fits." "You'll be what I want you to be," Jean told him with the little smile in her eyes that Lite had learned to love more than he could ever say. "I'm going to make us both famous, Lite.
She glanced anxiously at the jam of wagons and automobiles and clanging street-cars. "I don't know, though," she amended ruefully, "I think perhaps he will, too, when he sees all this. I really ought to have stayed with him." "You don't think Lite quite capable of taking care of him." "Oh, yes, of course he is! But I just feel that way."
For that, to help me do the real work in the picture, I want Lite Avery. There are things I can do that you have never had me do, for the simple reason that you don't know the life well enough ever to think of them. Real stunts, not these made-to-order, shoot-the-villain-and-run-to-the-arms-of-the-hero stuff. I'd have to have Lite Avery; I wouldn't start without him." "Well, go on."
You wait till you see Lite in action!" Gil would have been exuberant over the literal manner in which Jean was taking his advice and putting it to the test, had he overheard her driving her bargain with Robert Grant Burns. He would have been exuberant, but he would never have dared to say the things that Jean said, or to have taken the stand that she took.
This was not the first machine that had come to grief in that hollow, though they could not remember ever to have seen one sunk deeper in the sand. "I guess you wouldn't refuse a little help, about now," Lite observed casually to Lee, who was most in evidence. "We wouldn't refuse a little, but a lot is what we need," Lee amended glumly. "Any ranch within forty miles of here?
'N' another thing," he added bodefully, "I figgured we'd better be gittin' to Luck In' his bunch. I calc'late they need us, mebby." No one made any reply to that statement, but even Lite, who never had been inclined to laugh at him, looked at Applehead with a new respect.
Her watch said that it was twenty-five minutes after two o'clock. The train, Lite had told her, would leave for Tucson at seven-forty-five in the morning. She told herself that, since it was too far to walk, and since she could not start any sooner by staying up and freezing, she might just as well get back into bed and try to sleep. But she could not sleep.
A tall, lank form detached itself from the black shade of the bunk-house as she went by, hesitated perceptibly, and then followed her down to the corral. When she had gone in with a rope and later led out Pard, the form stood forth in the white light of the moon. "Where are you going, Jean?" Lite asked her in a tone that was soothing in its friendliness. "That you, Lite?
At long rifle range, he circled and faced the thing that had scared him so, and after a little Jean persuaded him to go back as far as the trail. Nearer he would not stir, so she waited there for Lite. "Never even thanked us," Lite grumbled when he came up, his mouth stretched in a wide smile. "That girl with the kalsomine on her face made remarks about folks butting in.
Neither succeeded in getting the conversation just where they wanted it before Squire Perkins' apple orchard came into view, and Dan was obliged to halt his old nag by the horse-block built out from the white fence and assist Jane to alight. She actually stood there till Aunty Perkins called: "Gal lost one ting. Come lite in. All gone." At which Jane blushed and went in, though all Mrs.
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