“It ain’t easy going,” Andy remarked, conscientiously.  “It’s pretty rough; some places, you’d have to walk and lead your horses.”

They swept aside the discouragement.

“We’d need pick and shovels, and men to dig,” cried one enthusiast.  “Uncle Peter can lend us some of his men.  There may be treasure to unearth.  There may be anything that is wonderful and mysterious.  Get busy, Uncle Peter, and get your outfit together; you’ve boasted that a roundup can beat the army in getting under way quickly, now let us have a practical demonstration.  We want to start by six o’clock—­all of us, with a cook and four or five men to do the excavating.  Bring it to pass!” It was the voice of the girl whom her friends spoke of as “The life of the party;” the voice of the-girl-who-does-things.

“It’s sixty-five miles from here, good and strong—­and mostly up and down,” put in Andy.

“‘Quoth the raven,’” mocked the-girl-who-does-things.  “We are prepared to face the ups-and-downs.  Do we start at six, Uncle Peter?”

Uncle Peter glanced sideways at the roundup boss.  To bring it to pass, he would be obliged to impress the roundup cook and part of the crew.  It was breaking an unwritten law of the rangeland, and worse, it was doing something unbusiness-like and foolish.  But not even the owner of the Rocking R may withstand the pleading of a pretty woman.  Uncle Peter squirmed, but he promised: 

“We start at six; earlier if you say so.”

The roundup boss gave his employer a look of disgust and walked away; the crew took it that he went off to some secluded place to swear.

Thereafter there was much discussion of ways and means, and much enthusiasm among the visitors from the East—­equalled by the depression of the crew, for cowboys do not, as a rule, take kindly to pick and shovel, and the excavators had not yet been chosen from among them.  They were uneasy, and they stole frequent, betraying glances at one another.  All of which amused Pink much.  Pink would like to have gone along, and would certainly have offered his services, but for the fact that his work there was done and he would have to start back to the Flying U just as soon as one of his best saddle horses, which had stepped on a broken beer bottle and cut its foot, was able to travel.  That would be in a few days, probably.  So Pink sighed and watched the preparations enviously.

Since he was fairly committed into breaking all precedents, uncle Peter plunged recklessly.  He ordered the mess-wagon to be restocked and prepared for the trip, and he took the bed-tent and half the crew.  The foreman he wisely left behind with the remnant of his outfit.  They were all to eat at the house while the mess-wagon was away, and they were to spread their soogans—­which is to say beds—­where they might, if the bunk-house proved too small or too hot.

The foreman, outraged beyond words, saddled at daybreak and rode to the nearest town, and the unchosen half turned out in a body to watch the departure of the explorers, which speaks eloquently of their interest; for cowboys off duty are prone to sleep long.