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," Applehead confessed shamefacedly, rolling his eyes apprehensively at the flushed faces of his fellow traitors.
"Yuh did?
Good! Tires need setting, if I recollect--" "Er--I had the boys set the tires, 'n'-- " "Fine! I might have known you fellows would put things in shape while I was gone! How about the horses?
I thought I saw a bunch in the big corral--" "I rustled enough saddle horses to give us all two apiece," Applehead admitted, perspiring coldly.

"'Tain't much of a string, but--" "You did?
Sounds like you've been reading my mind, Applehead.