he tempered his criticism, "but I'm some nervous about automobiles."

"I noticed that myself," drawled a soft, humorous voice from the rear. "This
is the nearest I ever came to traveling by telegraph."

Luck grinned, waved his hand in friendly greeting to the Happy Family who were
taking long steps up from the corral, and turned his attention to the
unloading of the machine. "Howdy, folks!--guess yuh thought I'd plumb lost the
trail back," he called to them over his shoulder while he dove after
suitcases, packages of various sizes and shapes, a box or two which the Happy
Family recognized as containing "raw stock," and a camera tripod that looked
perfectly new.

From the congested tonneau a tall, slim young woman managed to descend without
stepping on anything that could not bear being stepped upon. She gave her
skirts a little shake, pushed back a flying strand of hair and turned her back
to the machine that she might the better inspect her immediate surroundings.

Old Dave Wiswell, the dried little man who never had much to say, peered at
her sharply, hesitated and then came forward with his bony hand outstretched
and trembling with eagerness. "Why, my gorry! If it ain't Jean Douglas, my
eyes are lyin' to me," he cried.

"It isn't Jean Douglas--but don't blame your eyes for that," said the girl,
taking his hand and shaking it frankly. "Jean Douglas Avery, thanks to the law
that makes a girl trade her name for a husband. You know Lite, of course--
dad, too."

"Well, well--my gorry I I should say I do! Howdy, Aleck?" He shook the hand of
the old man Jean called dad, and his lips trembled uncertainly, seeking speech