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Applehead comes in with the use of his ranch and stock and wagons and so on. Here, pard how does this look to you?" His own pleasure in what he was doing warmed from Luck's voice all the chill that Bill Holmes had sent into it. He smiled his contagious smile and peeled off fifty dollar banknotes until Applehead's eyes popped.
"You're durn tootin' it's right!" he testified. Weary looked shining-eyed at Applehead's purple face. "Sure, that's right!" he emphasized. "And I don't care how much of a trap you call this, it isn't a patching to the one Applehead busted us out of. He's what I call a Real One, boys." "Aw, shet yore dang head 'n' git yore rifles workin'!" Applehead blurted.
Ramon, he told himself while he made his way down the arroyo side, was at least working out a clever scheme of his own, and it rested with Luck and his posse to see that Ramon was cheated of success. So deeply was he engrossed that before he realized it he was down where they had left Applehead's party.
He went whistling about his task of directing the others and doing two men's work himself, and he refused to worry about anything. That evening after supper, when they were all smoking and resting before Applehead's big rock fireplace, Luck's energy would not let him dwell upon the trivial incidents of their trip, which the Happy Family were discussing with reminiscent enjoyment.
Whether he admitted it or not, he had a good deal of faith in Applehead's weather forecasts; he remembered how often the old fellow had predicted storms in the past when Luck spent a long winter with him here in this same adobe dwelling.
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