He draws upon the energy and interest that ought to be in every human being, and when entertainment is not in sight, he goes after it.

When they were making "The Half-Breed" pictures in the Carquinez woods of Northern California, he was never seen around the camp except when actually needed by the camera man.

Upon his return from these absences, it was noticed that his hands were usually bleeding, and his clothing stained and torn.
"What in the name of mischief have you been doing now ?" the director demanded on a day when Fairbanks's wardrobe was almost a total loss.
"Trappin'," chirped the star.
Beating about the woods, Bret Harte in hand, he had managed to discover an old woodsman who still held to the ancient industries of his youth.
The trapper's specialty was "bob cats," and the bleeding hands and torn clothes came from "Doug's" earnest efforts to handle the "varmints" just as his venerable preceptor handled them.

Out of the experience, at least, he brought an intimate knowledge of field, forest, and stream, for over the fire and in their walks he had pumped the old man dry.
In the same way he made "The Good Bad Man" hand him over everything of value that frontier life contained.

The picture was taken out in the Mohave desert; for the making of it the director had scoured the West for riders and ropers and cowboys of the old school.