to bet very high that there's a
teacupful uh brains in this hull outfit," Big Medicine asserted. "We
might a knowed Luck'd come back loaded fer bear; we WOULD a knowed it if
we had any brains in our heads. I'm plumb sore at myself. By cripes, I
need kickin'!"

"You'll get it, chances are," Pink assured him grimly.

Luck was in the living room, sitting at a table on which were scattered
many papers Scribbled with figures. He had a cigarette in his lips, his
hat on the back of his head and a twinkle in his eyes. He looked up and
grinned as they came reluctantly into the room.

"Time's money from now on, so this is going to be cut short as
possible," he began with his usual dynamic energy showing in his tone
and in the movements of his hands as he gathered up the papers and
evened their edges on the table top. "You fellows know how much you put
into the game when we started out to come here and produce The Phantom
Herd, don't you? If you don't, I've got the figures here. I guess
the returns are all in on that picture--and so far She's brought us
twenty-three thousand and four hundred dollars. She went big, believe
me! I sold thirty states. Well, cost of production is-what we put in the
pool, plus the cost of making the prints I got in Los. We pull out the
profits according to what we put in--sabe? I guess that suits everybody,
doesn't it?"

"Sure," one astonished voice gulped faintly. The others were dumb.

"Well, I've figured it out that way--and to make sure I had it right I
got Billy Wilders, a pal of mine that works in a bank there, to figure
it himself and check up after me. We all put in our services--one man's
work against every other man's work, mine same as any of you. Bill
Holmes, here, didn't have any money up, and he was an apprentice--but
I'm giving him twenty a week besides his board. That suit you, Bill?"

"I guess it's all right," Bill answered in his colorless tone.

Luck, being extremely sensitive to tones, cocked an eye up at Bill
before he deliberately peeled, from the roll he drew from his pocket,
enough twenty dollar notes to equal the number of weeks Bill had worked
for him. "And that's paying you darned good money for apprentice work,"
he informed him drily, a little hurt by Bill's lack of appreciation. For
when you take a man from the streets because he is broke and hungry and
homeless, and feed him and give him work and clothes and three meals a
day and a warm bed to sleep in, if you are a