the way the story runs:"

"Say, boss, make it short and sweet, can't you?" Andy begged. He was
sitting on the floor with his head against Rosemary's knees, and his
eyelids were drooping drowsily. "By gracious, nobody'll have to sing me
to sleep to-night! I'm about ready to hit the hay right now."

"I'll cut out the atmosphere and just stick to the action, then," Luck
conceded. "I want to get you all placed, so we can get to work in the
morning without any delay. _Sabe_?"

"Shoot," murmured Pink, opening his eyes with some effort "I can listen
for five minutes, maybe."

"I can't, I don't believe," the Native Son yawned. "But go ahead,
_amigo_. My heart's with you, anyway, whether my eyes are open or shut."

Luck was pretty sleepy himself, after two nights and a day spent in a
chair car, with another day of hard labor to finish the ordeal. But his
enthusiasm had never been keener than when, in the land of sage and
cactus, he first unfolded his precious scenario and bent forward to
read by the light of the fire. He forgot to skip the "atmosphere."
Scene by scene he lived the story through. Scene by scene he saw his
Big Picture grow vivid as ever the reality would be. Once or twice he
glanced up and saw Applehead leaning forward with his elbows on his
knees and his pipe gone cold in his fingers, absorbed, living the story
even as Luck lived it.

A long, rumbling snore stopped him with a mental jolt. He came back to
reality and looked at the Happy Family. Every one of them, save Rosemary,