"I feel as if I'd worked with you.
Pink was with me when we saw that picture, and we both hollered 'Go to it!' right out loud, when you gathered up the ribbons and yanked off the brake and went off hell-popping and smiling back over your shoulder at us.

It was your size and that smile of yours that made me remember you.
You looked like a kid when you mounted to the boot; and you drove down off smiling, and you had one helanall of a trip, and you drove off that grade looking like you was trying to commit suicide and was smiling still when you pulled up at the post-office.

By gracious, I--" Luck gave a little chuckle deep in his throat.

"I did all that smiling the day before I drove off the grade," he confessed, looking from one to the other.

"I don't guess I'd have smiled quite so sweet, maybe, if I'd waited." "Is that the way you make moving pictures, hind-side-foremost ?" Andy, his back to the table, lifted himself over the rim to a comfortable seat and began to make himself a cigarette.
"Yes, or both ways from the middle, just as it happens." Luck was always ready to talk pictures.