He had no scene written in his script to match the picture she made; he had no negative to waste.
But he swung his camera around and, using the telephoto lens he had adjusted for his cattle scenes, he called to her to hold that pose, and indulged his artistic sense in a ten-or-twelve foot scene which showed Annie-Many-Ponies wholly absorbed in gazing upon farther bleakness.
Annie-Many-Ponies was so keenly conscious of her duty to the camera that she dared not break her pose, even to give the signal, until he had yelled, "All right, Annie!" and swung the camera back with its recording eye fixed upon that narrow depression between two blunt ears of hilltop, through which the herd was to be sent down to the ridge and on past the camera to the flat, where other scenes were to be taken later on, when the cattle were hungry enough to browse miserably upon the bosquet of young cotton woods.
"Cows come!" she called out, because Luck had his back to her at the moment and did not see the wave of hand she had been told to give him.
Luck, squinting into the view-finder, caught the swaying vanguard of the herd and swore.

He had meant to "pan.

bleak mesa" for half a minute before those swaying heads and horns appeared over the brow of the ridge.

Now, even though he began to turn the crank the instant he glimpsed them, he would not have quite the effect which he had meant to have.

He would be compelled to make two scenes of it, and pan.