he would be obliged to impress the roundup cook and part of the crew.
It was breaking an unwritten law of the rangeland, and worse, it was
doing something unbusiness-like and foolish. But not even the owner of
the Rocking R may withstand the pleading of a pretty woman. Uncle
Peter squirmed, but he promised:

"We start at six; earlier if you say so."

The roundup boss gave his employer a look of disgust and walked away;
the crew took it that he went off to some secluded place to swear.

Thereafter there was much discussion of ways and means, and much
enthusiasm among the visitors from the East--equalled by the
depression of the crew, for cowboys do not, as a rule, take kindly to
pick and shovel, and the excavators had not yet been chosen from among
them. They were uneasy, and they stole frequent, betraying glances at
one another. All of which amused Pink much. Pink would like to have
gone along, and would certainly have offered his services, but for the
fact that his work there was done and he would have to start back to
the Flying U just as soon as one of his best saddle horses, which had
stepped on a broken beer bottle and cut its foot, was able to travel.
That would be in a few days, probably. So Pink sighed and watched the
preparations enviously.

Since he was fairly committed into breaking all precedents, uncle
Peter plunged recklessly. He ordered the mess-wagon to be restocked
and prepared for the trip, and he took the bed-tent and half the crew.
The foreman he wisely left behind with the remnant of his outfit. They
were all to eat at the house while the mess-wagon was away, and they
were to spread their soogans--which is to say beds--where they might,