Come All Ye Dance Hall was done.

Then came some adventurous days in the open. In motor cars the
company of artists was transported to a sunny nook in the foothills
beyond the city, and here in the wild, rough, open spaces, the drama
of mother-love, sacrifice, and thrills was further unfolded.

First to be done here was the continuation of the hero's escape from
the dance-hall. Upon his faithful horse he ambled along a quiet road
until he reached the shelter of an oak tree. Here he halted at the
roadside.

"You know the detective is following you," explained Baird, "and
you're going to get him. Take your nag over a little so the tree
won't mask him too much. That's it. Now, you look back, lean forward
in the saddle, listen! You hear him coming. Your face sets--look as
grim as you can. That's the stuff--the real Buck Benson stuff when
they're after him. That's fine. Now you get an idea. Unlash your
rope, let the noose out, give it a couple of whirls to see is
everything all right. That's it--only you still look grim--not so
worried about whether the rope is going to act right. We'll attend
to that. When the detective comes in sight give about three good
whirls and let her fly. Try it once. Good! Now coil her up again and
go through the whole thing. Never mind about whether you're going to
get him or not. Remember, Buck Benson never misses. We'll have a
later shot that shows the rope falling over his head."

Thereupon the grim-faced Benson, strong, silent man of the open,
while the cameras ground, waited the coming of one who hounded him
for a crime of which he was innocent. His iron face was relentless.