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, was sound asleep; and even Rosemary was dreaming at the fire with her eyes half closed, and her fingers moving caressingly through the unconscious Andy's brown hair.
"Let 'em be.

You go ahead and read it out," Applehead muttered, impatient of the pause.
So Luck, with his audience dwindled to one bald-headed old rangeman, read the story of what he meant to create out there in the wild spaces of New Mexico..