In two minutes she had her mother and Bedelia rushing around like scared hens, trying to collect the things she wanted to take for Johnny’s comfort and welfare.  In three she was bullying the long-distance operator.  In five she was laying down the law to the sheriff, just as though he were one of her father’s cowpunchers.

“Get all the men you can,” she commanded, when she had reached the details, “and scatter them like a round-up.  You know how, of course.  And keep them within sight of each other, and make them keep watch in every hollow and wash and high brush—­because an airplane might not show up very plainly if it’s all smashed.  And ’phone to all the places down this way, and make all the men you can get out and help.  It’s tremendously important that you find Mr. Jewel immediately, because he may be badly hurt.  My father will give a thousand dollars to the man who finds him.  You tell that to every one, Mr. Sheriff, will you, please?  And say that the Rolling R will pay well for the time of those who aren’t lucky enough to win the reward.  We will pay every man twenty-five dollars that goes out.  And have an automobile follow you, with a doctor in it, to take care of John—­Mr. Jewel, when he is found.  We will start all our riders out from here, and ride until we meet you.  Now hurry!  Don’t stop for a lot of red tape and orders and things—­get right out on the trail.  And don’t forget the thousand dollars reward.”  Just when the sheriff was saying “Aw right—­goo’by,” Mary V thought of something else.

“Be sure and have every man carry an extra canteen for Mr. Jewel.  Injured men are always tremendously thirsty.  And don’t forget that every man will get twenty-five dollars, and the man that finds him—­”

The sheriff had hung up, which was rude of him.  Mary V had several other little suggestions to make—­but men never do want to be told anything, especially by a woman.  Mary V was glad she had not been permitted to say that the sheriff would of course receive an especially attractive reward.  He could go without, now, just for his smartness.

The Rolling R boys, hastily summoned by the cook who had galloped off without removing his flour-sack apron, came racing in and saddled fresh mounts.  In a surprisingly short time they were filling canteens and gathering in a restive circle around the big touring car where the boss sat behind the wheel, and Mary V, fidgeting on the seat beside him, was telling them all for gracious sake to hurry up and get started, and not fool around until dark.

Bill Hayden got his orders, leaning down from his horse so that Mary V’s impatient young voice should not submerge her father’s in Bill’s big, sun-peeled ears.  “All right—­better scatter out right now, soon as we git past the fence.  You foller along about in the middle.”  He wheeled and was gone, overtaking the boys who were already starting for the gate, which little Curley held open until the last man should pass.