"The word scrubs," Rob reminded her as they began to work the calves inside the gate, "is like charity: it covers a multitude of sins. And when you're dealing with the Ludlums—well, what fat there might be in the herd is generally in the fire; as at present."
"What is he talking about?" Harry asked.
"Aw! Nothin' much. Some of the critters that were over the other side of the river have been driven in here on the range and——"
"Those wild, starved things from outside? But they can't! This range belongs to us ranchers." The significance of the thing was coming to her. "What right have outsiders to ship stock in here? We'll drive them into the river! They shan't clean up the grazing."
"I guess you wouldn't want to run 'em into the river," Garnett said reflectively, "not if you're buying cattle from Ludlum on time."
"Ludlum? What has he to do with it?"
"Nothing much," answered Garnett, slowly, "except that about five hundred of the scrubs are his, and if he knew that you were running 'em off he might take it kind of bad."