Work there was yet to do, and plenty of it.  Even if the weather came clear on the morrow as he desired, he must make every minute count, if he would take his picture to the Cattlemen’s Convention.  Work there was, and problems there were to be solved.  But he had his big blizzard stuff, and he had his scenes of the phantom herd.  So for an hour or two, on this evening of triumph, Luck Lindsay threw care into a far corner, and danced and sang as the Happy Family had never known he could do.

“Here, Annie, take the drum; it’s ’call the dog and put out the fire and all go home.’  If my luck stays with me, and the sun shines to-morrow, we’ll take these interiors of the double-exposure stuff.  And then we’ll be eating on the run and sleeping as we ride, till that picture pops out on the screen for the old cattlemen to see.  Good night, folks; I’m going to sleep to-night!”

He went out whistling like a schoolboy going fishing.  For luck was with him once more, and his Phantom Herd was almost a reality as a picture.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A FEW OF THE MINOR DIFFICULTIES

However obliging fate may desire to be, certain of nature’s laws must be observed.  Whether luck was disposed to stay with Luck Lindsay or not, a storm such as the fates had conjured for his needs could not well blow itself out as suddenly as it had blown itself in; so Luck did not get all of his interior double-exposure stuff done the next day, nor his remaining single-exposure stuff either.  When his own reason and Applehead’s earnest assurances convinced him that the day after the real blizzard day was going to be unfit for camera work, Luck took Weary, Pink, and the Native Son to Albuquerque, rented a little house he had discovered to be vacant, and set them to work building a drying drum for his prints, according to the specifications he furnished them.  He hauled his tanks from the depot and showed the boys how to install them so as to have the benefit of the running water, and got his printer set up and ready to work; for he knew that he would have to make his first prints himself, with the help of the Happy Family, the photographer having neither the room nor the time for the work, and Luck having no more than barely money enough to pay house rent and the charges on his tanks and printer.

Then, being an obliging young man when the fates permitted him to indulge his natural tendencies, Luck made a hurried trip to a certain little shop that had dusty mandolins and watches and guns and a cheap kodak in the dingy window.  He went in with his watch in his pocket ticking cheerfully the minutes and hours that were so full of work and worry.  When he came out, the watch was ticking just as cheerfully in a drawer and the chain was looped prosperously across his vest from buttonhole to empty pocket.  He went straight across to a grocery store and bought some salt pork and coffee and cornmeal and matches which Rosemary had timidly asked him if he could get.  She explained apologetically that she was beginning to run out of things, and that she had no idea they were going to have such awful appetites, and that of course there were two extra people to feed, and that they certainly could dispose of their share three times a day,—­meaning, of course, Annie-Many-Ponies and Bill Holmes.