"You can't figger out ahead what a dude is goin' to do any more than a calf or a sheep. If we treat 'em right and they get stuck on the country they're liable to winter here instead of Floridy. Now, if we could winter—say—ten head of dudes at $150 a month for seven months, that would be $10,500. The trip through the Yellowstone Park and Jackson Hole Country is goin' to be a big item. Ten head of dudes—say—at $5.00 a day for—say—fifteen days is——"
"But you never deduct expenses, Pinkey. It isn't all profit. There's the interest on the investment, interest on the money we borrowed, groceries, the cook's wages, and we'll need helpers through the Yellowstone."
"You're gettin' an awful habit of lookin' on the black side of things," said Pinkey, crossly.
"If we can pay expenses and have a $1,000 clear the first year, I'll be satisfied."
"A thousand dollars!" Pinkey exclaimed, indignantly. "You're easy pleased—I thought you had more ambition. Look at the different ways we got to git their money. Two bits apiece for salt water baths and eight baths a day—some of 'em might not go in reg'lar—every day, but, say eight of 'em do, anyway, eight times two bits is $2.00. Then $10.00 apiece every time they go to town in the stage-coach is, say, $100 a trip—and they go twict a week, say, that's $200."
"But they might not go twice a week," Wallie protested, "nor all of them at a time."
"You shore give me the blues a croakin'. Why don't you look on the bright side of things like you useta? Do you know, I've been thinkin' we ought to make out a scale of prices for lettin' 'em work around the place. They'd enjoy it if they had to pay for it—dudes is like that, I've noticed. They're all pretty well fixed, ain't they?"
"Oh, yes, they all have a good deal of money, unless, perhaps Miss Eyester, and I don't know much about her in that way. But Mr. Penrose, Mr. Appel, and Mr. Budlong are easily millionaires."
Pinkey's eyes sparkled.
"I s'pose a dollar ain't any more to them than a nickel to us?"