few interior sets."

Rosemary had her eyebrows tied in little knots, she was thinking so fast.
"I'll write the Little Doctor that she can have my silver teaset," she
informed Andy impulsively. "She offered me fifty dollars for it, you
know. That would buy lots of beans!"

Luck looked at her, but he did not say what was in his mind. Instead he
reached into an inner pocket and drew out his passbook, "I've got
eighteen hundred and ninety-five dollars in the bank," he announced,
reading the figures aloud. "And my car ought to bring three or four
thousand,--if I can find the man that tried to buy it a month or so
before I took the Injuns back. She's a pippin, boys!--"

"Oh, your lovely, big, white machine!" wailed Rosemary. "Would you have
to sell it, Luck? Couldn't we squeak along without that?"

"Aw, you don't want to sell your car!" Pink protested. "I know where I
can borrow two or three hundred. Maybe the Old Man--"

"We'll put this thing through alone, if we do it at all," Luck told him
bluntly. "Can't afford to work with borrowed capital; the risk is too
great. Sure, I'll sell the car. I was thinking of it, anyway," he
testified falsely but reassuringly. "We'll need every cent I can raise.
There's chemicals and Lord knows what all; and when we come to making our
prints and marketing, why--" he threw out both hands expressively. "If we
land in Albuquerque with five thousand dollars and our outfit, we won't
have a cent to throw away. At that, we'll have to squeeze every nickel
till it hollers, before we're through. Believe me, boys, this is going to
be some undertaking!"