He smiled his contagious smile and peeled off fifty dollar banknotes until Applehead's eyes popped.
"Oh, don't give me so dang much!" he gulped nervously when Luck had counted out for him the amount he had jotted down opposite his name.
"That there's moren the hul dang ranch is worth if I was t' deed it over to yuh, Luck! I ain't goin' to take--" "You shut up," Luck commanded him affectionately.

"That's yours--now, close your face and let me get this thing wound up.

Now--WILL you quit your arguing, or shall I throw you out the window ?" "Well, now, I calc'late you'd have a right busy time throwin' ME out the window," Applehead boasted, and backed into a corner to digest this astonishing turn of events.
One by one, as their names stood upon his list, Luck called the boys forward and with exaggerated deliberation peeled off fifty-dollar notes and one-hundred-dollar notes to take their breath and speech from them.
With Billy Wilders, his friend in the bank, to help him, he had boyishly built that roll for just this heart-warming little ceremony.

He might have written checks to square the account of each, but he wanted to make their eyes stand out, just as he was doing.

He had looked forward to this half hour more eagerly than any of them guessed; he had, with his eyes closed, visualized this scene over more than one cigarette, his memory picturing vividly another scene wherein these same young men had cheerfully emptied their pockets and planned many small personal sacrifices that he, Luck Lindsay, might have money enough to come here to New Mexico and make his one Big Picture.