The way Mrs. Ludlum's brown eyes beamed at Harry warmed the girl's heart.
"I'd rather ride than teach," Harry declared, "but the only way I could save money to go into cattle was by teaching. You see, Rob insisted that besides the money for the first payment I should have something for running expenses."
"You don't mean to say you saved for that! How much, child?"
"Two hundred and fifty."
"Two hundred fifty! Whoopee! Did you hear that, Ludlum? Why, you don't no more need that than a rattlesnake needs two tails! Instead of saltin' that down, you'd ought to have put it into a decent-sized bunch of beef."
"We thought it safer to save something," said Harry, feeling her cheeks redden.
"There, now. She's mad with me." Mrs. Ludlum's arm went round Harry's waist in a conciliatory hug. "You're the same sort I was myself—full of spunk as an apple is of cider. That's the sort of thing that makes success. I'll bet right now you wanted to put that extra cash into beef, didn't you? Of course! See her smile! And that's what you're going to do. Pa and I'll fix you up all right."
"But two hundred and fifty dollars won't buy many cows," Harry began.
"It won't buy blooded white-face, but you've got a plenty of them. What you need is some scrub stock; the sort we started with. They'll rustle better for feed, stand harder weather and come through where your high-class critters will knock under. You take thirty scrubs at six hundred, pay two hundred fifty cash for 'em and let the other three fifty go on time, and I'll lay you even money they'll make more for you than your 'ristocrats that cost you twice as much. Ain't that right, Pa?"