After her talk with Ludlum, Harry went back to the house exulting. At last some one who could speak with authority had come to advise them; yes, and to help them, too. In her happy optimism she regarded Ludlum's brief array of facts and figures as the formula for turning their labor into a stream of gold.

She spent the forenoon in bursts of energetic housework and in watching for Rob. She was wild with impatience to tell him of Ludlum's plan for them. Even the little house where they had heretofore lived so contentedly seemed suddenly cramped and outgrown. Yet it was a far better house than many wealthier ranchers owned, a better one than Rob himself had expected to build.

Absorbed in her plans for the future, Harry forgot to watch the clock and was surprised to hear feet thumping up the steps and to hear Rob's voice saying:

"Come ahead in, Garnett."

"Garnett! You don't mean it!" With an exclamation of delight Harry turned.

"Looks like I never did get the chance to send and ask you would it be agreeable to have me call in." Garnett, tall, sandy-haired with freckles across his nose, looked at Harry with a twinkle in his blue eyes that laughed even when his face was serious.

"I'll forgive you this time," said Harry, smiling back at him. "It's months since we've seen you. We'd begun to wonder what we'd done."

"You've done a heap," said Garnett, with an admiring glance at the sink and pump, which Rob had added when he piped the water from the spring. "You don't charge for drinks now, account of the new fixings, do you?" he asked, picking up a cup.

"Yessir. Forty cents the demitasse," said Rob, returning from his refreshing splash at the wash bench. "Freight rates are high west of the Rockies, remember."

"Can't you hang me up this time? I'm so dry I can't tell you the news."

"Depends on what it is," said Rob. "We got the mail two weeks ago, so you can't fool us with anything stale."

"I reckon I might's well move on, then. Like I told you, I'm due up in the timber right now. Prob'ly scrappin' up there already 'long of those cattle."

Harry turned quickly from the stove where she was "dishing up." "What cattle?"

"Why, the stranger cattle that have been shipped in. I thought you knew about them. What's the use of Rob's goin' for the mail so often if he don't pick up the home-brewed news that's layin' out in the street over to Soldier?"

"Garnett, stop teasing, do!" Harry pleaded, as they drew up to the table. "Whose cattle are they?"

"I don't know," Garnett said. "Everybody's got it different. To hear Rudy Batts talk you'd think a thousand devils had been turned loose on his land; but then, they cleaned up Rudy's winter wheat, just about, so it's natural he's feelin' disturbed."

"But Rudy Batts' ranch is up Soldier Creek," Harry interrupted, "and I thought you said these cattle were in the forest."

"They are by now, but the varmints were shipped in by rail to Soldier, to the 'Idaho Cattle Company,' whoever that is; and their riders drove 'em up through the creek caÑon on the way to the forest. Bein' what they are, scrubs mostly, starved to death all winter and breachy from the start, they didn't stop to ask for the wire nippers when they came to fenced grain; just went right through or over and cleaned up inside. That's how I got to hear about it. Everybody in Soldier's askin' who owns the critters. Some think it's a bunch of bankers down round Shoshone that saw beef was goin' up and wanted to get in on the profit. And say! I wish I had a little bunch of beef critters to be eatin' the pasture off these hills. Wouldn't I make all kinds of money?"

Harry's heart leaped. Now was her chance. "Do you really think there would be money in it?" she asked eagerly. "For Rob and me for instance?"

"Do I! There's so much in it that I know I'm a fool not to give up my job in the service and get me a herd. I would, too, if I hadn't rented my eighty down on the South Side on shares to Pablo Carriero, a Portagee. He's got it up to November, and you bet I'm not going to lease again."

"But you could buy a few head, couldn't you?" Harry asked quickly. "You'll have one third of your hay."

"Not this year. I told Carriero to sell it if he could, and he's given an option on it to that fellow Biane. But for you two! Why, it's as easy as counting your fingers to coin money this year."

"It is!" said Rob skeptically. "With steers selling at thirty and calves at fifteen, and me with only three hundred cash in the bank? Guess again, Christopher Garnett."

"He isn't guessing at all," Harry said quickly. "I heard—some one told me the very same thing this morning. If we bought only a hundred head now, part cash, part time——"

"Oh, time!" Rob echoed. "None of that for me, thank you."

"Wait, please. You haven't heard it all," Harry broke in, and then hurried on to give him the gist of what Ludlum had said. "With the eight hundred cash we have between us," she ended, "there's no reason why we should not borrow the rest, buy cattle and succeed, just as thousands of men have done before us."

"Yes, and other men who didn't know any more about it than we do have gone into cattle and been ruined."

"Say, Rob," Garnett drawled, "ain't you ever heard of a man with one pet cow havin' her die on him?"

"Oh, sure! But the chances are ninety per cent in his favor, and if he does lose he loses less."

"Loses less when he loses all he's got! That's the first time I ever heard that argyment. A man can drudge along and be safe while he never owns more than he can carry to bed in his two hands; but that ain't the way to figure in this country. Round up all you can and make 'em rustle for their livin' while you busy yourself seein' that some other feller's critters ain't swipin' the feed. That's the way to get rich. It beats the pet cow all hollow."

"Of course," Harry added earnestly. "And as for not borrowing, every one knows that big business is done on credit."

"Credit!" Rob fairly groaned. "I shouldn't care for any, as they say. It sounds good as a topic for conversation, but I'll bet that's just the kind of argument the old-timers got happy drunk on before the winter of '89. Ever hear the Robinsons tell about that winter, you two?"

The silence answered him. Yes, they had heard and also remembered. Who that had heard could forget? First had come the June freeze and then a dry summer with a shortage of grazing. But no one had worried; probably, after such a cold summer there would be an open winter. When all the grazing was gone they would drive the stock out to Shoshone and buy hay. So they planned. Alas! Before the grazing was quite gone the snow came—and stayed. And while they waited for a break in the bad weather in which to move out, the "big snow" came and shut them in—shut their cattle in to slow starvation.

As Mrs. Robinson related it twenty-five years afterward the tears streamed down her cheeks. "It like to broke pa's heart," she said; "him havin' to set inside and watch them pore dumb critters waitin' to be fed and finally layin' down to die. Time and again we tried to drive 'em across the foothills into the hay country, but 'twa'n't no use. Out of two hundred head all we saved was one cow. Every stockman on the prairie lost his herd, and some was ruined for good and all. We never went into another winter without hay, I tell ye."

It was a cruel experience, but Harry was not a person to let another's misfortune shake her faith in her own enterprise. As she looked toward her brother a characteristic expression came across her face: the expression that meant obstinate, good-natured determination. She was saying to herself: "We're not going to fail. We're not. I think we can make cattle pay on borrowed money, and I'm going to borrow it."

But she said no more to Rob, for she felt that it was best to let him think the matter over by himself. That he was doing so during the next few days was evident from the tension in the air whenever cattle were mentioned.

She hoped that Ludlum would come before the effect of Garnett's advice had worn off, and, as the days passed, she grew uneasy. It was a relief from the constant suspense when one morning Rob asked her to help him round up his cows. Half a dozen starved-looking steers had come down the draw during the night, and when he dogged them off his own herd had followed them.

Harry needed no urging. With Rob and Garnett to teach her she had learned to ride well, and could even, with the help of 'Thello, round up their own cattle very creditably. There was nothing that she enjoyed more than to be out on a June morning, with a lively horse beneath her, the sage-scented breeze sweeping past, the meadow larks calling across the sky, the miles of blue swale and the cloud shadows racing ahead of her. At such moments the horizon was hers; hers, too, the splendor and greatness of life.

To-day the work was all play. They had only to follow the fresh traces of the herd going south across the hills, and half an hour of sharp riding brought them up with the bunch. It took another half hour to cut out their animals and turn them toward home, but that was what Harry enjoyed. To wheel to and fro, spur after a creature that was dodging to one side, dash ahead and turn the leaders, and finally send the whole string galloping away with the thunder of hoofs and the chorus of bellowings—that was the best sport yet.

As Harry and Rob rode slowly home they discussed the coming of strange cattle into their hills, and wondered whether they could be some of those that Garnett had spoken of.

"If they are," Rob said, "the riders will be along in a few days to drive them back."

When they were halfway down the draw 'Thello growled warningly, and they saw a saddle horse standing at the corral gate.

"Ludlum!" flashed into Harry's mind, and she was silent when Rob said he would ride ahead and see who their visitor was.

"I'll leave them alone for a while," she said to herself, "and give Ludlum a chance to talk."

She drove the cows inside the pasture, then rode slowly to the corral and, putting up her pony, came to the house. Ludlum was talking in a tone of calm assurance, of conviction won by thorough knowledge of the subject. Rob, sitting on the porch step, smoothed the back of his head and listened in silence. Harry wondered whether that silence meant that he was yielding or merely resisting.

Stocky, big-muscled, tanned to a smooth, healthy brown, Robert Holliday was at first glance merely one of the many young fellows who have gone out to the Far West to have a try at fortune. But three years of hard wrestling with a sagebrush ranch had cleared and solidified his boyish visions and made them a working force. Harry knew that Rob's opinions carried weight in the community.

At her approach Ludlum rose and held out his hand. "Wherever I see folks as willing to work as you and your brother, Miss Holliday, I'm willing to bet they'll succeed against any odds. Yes, ma'am."

"How about the fellow that is working against us?" asked Rob quietly. "Does he win, too?"

"O Bobby! You do think up such objections!" Harry said, with a laugh.

But Ludlum nodded approvingly. "Quite right, Holliday. A man's got to be cautious, especially in the cattle business. You'd ought to be thankful, young lady, that you've got such a level-headed partner to work with."

Ludlum commended impartially the opinions of both Rob and Harry. "Come down to the ranch and look things over," he said as he rose to go, "and get acquainted with the missus and our girls and boys. Pick out a bunch of critters, and make your own terms. You'll make twenty per cent on your money, all right."

"Hard work to come down to earth again after sailing round in Ludlum's airship," Rob commented as they watched their visitor ride away. "He'd make a fellow think that merely driving his critters on our land would start providence coining money to pay for them and making hay to feed them."

"I don't see that we need trust especially in providence for hay and cash!" Harry exclaimed. "We're sure of fifty tons of alfalfa of our own this year, besides the wheat straw from fifty acres for roughage; and as for the cash payment on a hundred head, haven't I five hundred in the bank and you have almost three hundred? And we can always buy extra hay on the flat."

"We're not sure we can buy hay; we're not sure we'll put up fifty tons of our own. It's a dry year, and the grazing may go early; and we're not past the chance of a late frost. It's pure gambling to take on a hundred head of cattle now."

"No more than taking the dozen you bought that first year was. We'll simply never make a real cleanup, Rob, if we never take a chance. I'd rather do it and maybe lose something—lose my five hundred dollars—than mosey along forever on the safe side."

"Go ahead. If you think you can clear the moon in one jump, I won't put the hobbles on you. But be satisfied with the moon; don't try to take in the Dipper and the Milky Way, too. Take thirty head if you like, from Ludlum, but no more. We agreed to run the ranch together; and if you want to invest your earnings in cattle, all right. I'll ride after the critters when I'm not working the land, and if you put in half your money you can take thirty head at a thousand dollars, paying down a quarter cash and giving a mortgage on your land. That'll leave you two hundred and fifty dollars and me three hundred to get through the season with."

"Five hundred and fifty dollars!" Harry exclaimed. "Why, Bobby, we could take more than thirty easy!"

"Well, we're not going to. We'll risk something, but we'll not risk everything. The first of December there'll be interest to pay—ten per cent on seven hundred and fifty for six months; that's thirty-seven and a half dollars. And we'll have to pay something on the principal, or Ludlum won't be likely to renew the note, but I figure that the sale from beef critters we already have and from this new bunch should pay off another two hundred and fifty on the mortgage. That is, if we have good luck."

A flash of resentment passed over Harry. Thirty head were so few! Could he not take even that small number without saying "if"? Her feeling of annoyance, however, was soon swept away in the discussion of details that Rob, with his usual foresight, insisted upon before they should start the following morning to settle the business with Ludlum.

They had finished talking and were sitting at the table, silent, each thinking what this big change might mean to them. Harry turned the lamp wick slowly up and down; her eyes were very deep and shining in the flare of light. Rob stared absently at the paper on which he had been figuring. Out in the falling night a whippoorwill called plaintively, then stopped, and in the silence they heard timid steps on the porch.

"Who's that?" Rob exclaimed, going to the door.

Harry followed him with the lamp. Its light fell upon the frightened face of a young girl.

"Why, it's Isita!" Harry said, in surprise. "Come in."

But Isita shook her head. Small-boned and slender for her age, clutching a boy's jacket over her chest and glancing timidly from brother to sister, she looked like a little lost child.

"What's happened, Isita?" Harry asked. "Anything we can do? Come in, dear."

"Oh, I can't!" The words came in a faint, frightened gasp. "Mother sent me to ask you—have you got something for a—a cut? Joe—that is, he was cutting up a chicken, and the knife slipped—" She stopped abruptly.

"That's bad; but we've got something for it. Come in and rest a minute while I get the things, and I'll go back with you," Rob began; but the girl raised her hands entreatingly.

"Please don't!" she besought. "That is, I mean, thank you; but you couldn't do nothing. It ain't so dangerous. All we need is something to put on it."

Rob went across the room to where Harry was busily putting together lint, disinfectant and sticking plaster.

"I think I ought to go over, don't you?" he said. "He may have cut an artery."

"No, no!" Isita's voice called out desperately. "It ain't so bad. Ma said for you not to come. It—it would make dad so mad. He'd 'a' killed me if he'd knowed I was coming over here. Never mind, Miss Holliday. I reckon I'd better be getting back."

"Wait! Here's your bandaging!" Harry called cheerily, coming out at the same moment with the package and with her sweater on. "I'm only going to the gate with you," she said soothingly, and, slipping her arm through Isita's, led her down the steps.

Harry was back in ten minutes. "I thought I might calm her," she explained to Rob. "The poor child was either scared to death at sight of a bad cut, or else frightened by that brute of a father. What a shame she has to live with such a family."

"I wonder how Joe did cut his hand," Rob said thoughtfully. "I shouldn't wonder if there had been a family scrap and the old man gave him one."

"Rob Holliday! The idea! Go on to bed, or we'll never get started in the morning."