may choose to name.

"You better put me down as camp cook and dishwasher, Luck Lindsay," Rosemary
protested, blushing.

"No--thank the Lord you won't have to cook for this hungry bunch any longer.
I've got a Mexican hired and headed this way. There'll be no more of that kind
of thing for you, lady--not while you're with us.

"Now, boys, let's get organized for action. Weather's perfect--Lowry's been
raving over the light, all the way out from town. I've got a range picture
all blocked out--did it while I was waiting in Los for Jean to show up. Done
anything about roundup yet, Applehead?"--

Poor old Applehead, with his guilty conscience and his soft-hearted affection
for Luck so deeply stirred by the money laid in his big-knuckled hand,
shuffled his feet and cleared his throat and did not get one intelligible word
past his dry tongue.

"If you haven't," Luck hurried on, spurred by his inpatient energy, "I want to
organize and get out right away with a regular roundup outfitchuck-wagon,
remuda and all--see what I mean I While I'm getting the picture of the stuff I
want, we can gather and brand your calves. That way, all my range scenes will
be of the real thing. I may want to throw the Chavez outfit in with ours, too,
so as to get bigger stuff. I'll try and locate Ramon Chavez and see what I can
do. But anyway, I want the roundup outfit ready to start just as soon as
possible--tomorrow, if we could get it together in time. How about that
cracked tongue on the chuck-wagon? Anybody fixed that?"

"We-ell, I wired it up so'st it's as solid as the rest uh the runnin' gear,"