So he told them _adios_ hurriedly and went his busy way, and left the Happy Family discussing him gravely among themselves.
The Happy Family were so interested in this new work that they were ready to see the bright side even of these weird performances which purported to be Western drama.

If you did not take it seriously, all this violence of dress and behavior was fun.

The Happy Family was slipping into a rivalry of violence; and the strange part of it was that Luck Lindsay, stickler for realism, self-confessed enthusiast on the uplifting of motion pictures to a fine art, permitted their violence,--which was not as the violence of other, better trained Western actors.

The Happy Family, after their first self-conscious tendency to duck behind something or somebody, had come to forget the merciless, recording eye of the camera.

They had come to look upon their work as a game, played for the amusement of Luck Lindsay, who watched them always, and for the open ridicule of Bently Brown, writer of these tales of blood and heroics.
And Luck not only permitted but encouraged them in this exaggeration,--to the amazement of the camera man who had turned the crank on more Western dramas than he could remember.