Dewitt did not reply at once.  When he did speak he seemed to be answering an argument within himself.

“I can’t let my own boys go to make room for yours.  That is absolutely out of the question.  There is a little matter of loyalty there, also.”

“I know there is.  I don’t know that I should want you to let them go.  We’re both in the same position almost.  And we’re at a deadlock, Mr. Dewitt.  I’m certainly sorry that I can’t sign up with you.”

“So am I, young man.  So am I. Come back if things shape themselves so you can see your way clear to directing my Western company.  I’ve an idea your boys will be going back to their ranches before the holidays.  In case they do, let me hear from you.”

That was more than Luck had any right to expect, and he had the sense to realize it.  He thanked Dewitt and promised, and went away with something of a load off his mind.  He could go now and face the Happy Family without feeling himself another Judas.

He found them sitting around waiting for their supper and trying to invent new words to fit their disgust with the Acme Film Company.  They greeted Luck as though they had not seen him for a month.

“Bully for you, Luck!” Andy shouted, and gave him an approving slap on the shoulder that sent him skating dangerously toward the table.  “Best job in town just came a-running up to you and says, ’Please take me!’—­so they say.  That right?”

“Yeah—­what about this here Great Western gitting its loop on you first thing?” bawled Big Medicine gleefully.  “By cripes, that’s sure one on the Acme bunch!  They’ll wisht they wasn’t quite so fresh, givin’ that little tin imitation of an author so much rope.  Me ‘n’ Pink was over to the studio to-day; honest to grandma, they was a sick lookin’ bunch around there.  Me ‘n’ Pink sure throwed it into ’em too, about letting the only real man they had git away from ’em the way they done.”

“My gorry, son, I sure am tickled to see yuh light with both feet under yuh, like they say you done.  I heard tell the Great Western’s going to let yuh put on your own pitcher; I guess them Acme folks’ll feel kinda foolish when they see it,” declared the dried little man, grinning over his pipe.

Luck was fighting his bewilderment and framing a demand for explanations when Rosemary bustled in from the kitchen.

“Oh, but we’re glad, Luck Lindsay!” she began in her quick, emphatic way.  “We all feel like a million dollars over your good luck.  We’re going to have fried chicken and strawberry shortcake for supper, too, just for a celebration.  I knew you’d come out and tell us all about it.  So sit right down, everybody, and keep still so Luck can tell us just what everybody said to the other fellow, and how Dewitt happened to get hold of him so quickly.  Is it true?  The boys heard you were going to get two hundred dollars a week!”

“Not get it—­no.”  Luck unfolded his napkin with fingers that shook a little.  “I was offered it, but I’m not going to take it.”