"We have made him our enemy, Robert," said his mother, apprehensively.
"He was our enemy before, mother. He evidently wants to ruin us."
As Wolverton went home, one thought was uppermost in his mind. "How could he prevent Bob from making the trip to St. Louis?"
CHAPTER XVII. WOLVERTON'S POOR TENANT.
Bob hired a couple of extra hands, and made haste to finish harvesting his wheat, for he was anxious to start on the trip down the river as soon as possible. His anticipations as to the size of the crop were justified. It footed up fourteen hundred and seventy-five bushels, and this, at two dollars per bushel, would fetch in market nearly three thousand dollars.
"That's a pretty good crop for a boy to raise, mother," said Bob, with pardonable exultation. "You haven't lost anything by allowing me to run the ranch."
"Quite true, Robert. You have accomplished wonders. I don't know what I could have done without you. I know very little of farming myself."
"I helped him, missis," said Clip, coveting a share of approval for himself.