“You have been explaining for several minutes,” said Custer; “but you haven’t said anything yet.”
“Well, I’ll start at the beginning, then. They’re going to have Indians, and cowboys, and——”
“That sounds more like the finish,” suggested Custer.
“Don’t interrupt me! They’re going to take a picture on Ganado.”
Custer turned toward his father with a look of surprise.
“You needn’t blame papa,” said Eva. “It was all my fault—or, rather, I should say our good fortune is all due to me. You see, papa wasn’t going to let them come at first, but the cutest man came up to see him—a nice, short, fat little man, and he rubbed his hands together and said: ‘Vell, colonel?’ Papa told him that he had never allowed any picture companies on the place; but I happened to be there, and that was all that saved us, for I teased and teased and teased until finally papa said that they could come, provided they didn’t take any pictures up around the house. They didn’t want to do that, for they’re making a Western picture, and they said the scenery at the back of the ranch is just what they want. They’re coming up in a few days, and it’s going to be perfectly radiant, and maybe I’ll get in the pictures!”
“If I thought so,” said Custer, “I’d put a can of nitroglycerine under the whole works the moment they drove on to the property!” He was thinking of what the pictures had done for Grace Evans. “I am surprised that you permitted it, father,” he said, turning to the colonel.
“I’m rather surprised myself,” admitted the older Pennington; “but what was I to do, with that suave little location manager rubbing his hands and oiling me on one side, and this little rascal here pestering the life out of me on the other? I simply had to give in. I don’t imagine any harm will come from it. They’ve promised to be very careful of all the property, and whenever any of our stock is used it will be handled by our own men.”
“I suppose they are going to pay you handsomely for it,” suggested Custer.
The colonel smiled.