The Heritage of the Sioux | Page 4

gathering of his cattle was an imperative duty and that
he himself must perform it. He could not, he told himself, afford to wait
around any longer for luck. Maybe when he came Luck would have
nothing but disappointment for them, Maybe--Luck was so consarned
stubborn when he got an idea in his head--maybe be wouldn't come to
any agreement with the Great Western. Maybe they wouldn't offer him
enough money, or leave him enough freedom in his work; maybe he
would "fly back on the rope" at the last minute, and come back with
nothing accomplished. Applehead, with the experience gleaned from
the stress of seeing luck produce one feature picture without any
financial backing whatever and without half enough capital, was not
looking forward with any enthusiasm to another such ordeal. He did not
believe, when all was said and done, that the Flying U boys would be
so terribly eager to repeat the performance. He did believe--or he made
himself think he believed--that the only sensible thing to do right then
was to take the boys and go out and start a roundup of his own. It
wouldn't take long--his cattle weren't so badly scattered this year.
"Where's Andy at?" he asked Pink, who happened to be leaning boredly
over the gate when he rode up to the corral. Andy Green, having been
left in nominal charge of the outfit when Luck left, must be consulted,
Applehead supposed.
"Andy? I dunno. He saddled up and rode off somewhere, a while ago,"
Pink answered glumly. "That's more than he'll let any of us fellows do;
the way he's close-herding us makes me tired! Any news?"
"Ain't ary word from Luck--no word of NO kind. I've about made up

my mind to take the chuck-wagon to town and stock it with grub, and
hit out on roundup t'morrer or next day. I don't see as there's any sense
in setting around here waitin' on Luck and lettin' my own work slide.
Chavez boys, they started out yest'day, I heard in town. And if I don't
git right out close onto their heels, I'll likely find myself with a purty
light crop uh calves, now I'm tellin' yuh I" Applehead, so completely
had he come under the spell of the soft spring air and the lure of the
mesa, actually forgot that he had long been in the habit of attending to
his calf crop by proxy.
Pink's face brightened briefly. Then he remembered why they were
being kept so close to the ranch, and he grew bored again.
"What if Luck pulled in before we got back, and wanted us to start
work on another picture?" he asked, discouraging the idea reluctantly.
Pink had himself been listening to the call of the wide spaces, and the
mere mention of roundup had a thrill for him.
"Well, now, I calc'late my prope'ty is might' nigh as important as Luck's
pitcher-making," Applehead contended with a selfishness born of his
newly awakened hunger for the far distances. "And he ain't sent ary
word that he's coming, or will need you boys immediate. The chances
is we could go and git back agin before Luck shows up. And if we
don't," he argued speciously, "he can't blame nobody for not wantin' to
set around on their haunches all spring waiting for 'im. I'd do a lot fer
luck; I've DONE a lot fer 'im. But it ain't to be expected I'd set around
waitin' on him and let them danged Mexicans rustle my calves. They'll
do it if they git half a show--now I'm tellin' yuh!"
Pink did not say anything at all, either in assent or argument; but old
Applehead, now that he had established a plausible reason for his
sudden impulse, went on arguing the case while he unsaddled his horse.
By the time he turned the animal loose he had thought of two or three
other reasons why he should take the boys and start out as soon as
possible to round up his cattle. He was still dilating upon these reasons
when Andy Green rode slowly down the slope to the corral.
"Annie-Many-Ponies come back yet?" he asked of Pink, as he swung
down off his horse. "Annie? No; ain't seen anything of her. Shunky's
been sitting out there on the hill for the last hour, looking for her."
"Fer half a cent," threatened old Applehead, in a bad humor because his
arguments had not quite convinced him that he was not meditating a

disloyalty, "I'd kill that danged dawg. And if I was runnin' this bunch,
I'd send that squaw back where she come from, and I'd send her quick.
Take the two of 'em together and they don't set good with me, now I'm
tellin' yuh! If I was