"Why let him go?"
"We won't need him."
"Won't need him!" Bob exclaimed. "With a hundred and sixty acres of cotton to irrigate and keep chopped out?"
"I can do a lot of the irrigating"—the girl spoke a little evasively—"and daddy can manage the rest."
He knew this was another case of exhausted funds.
"Can't you borrow any more?"
She laughed a frank confession.
"You guessed it. We haven't money to pay him. I've borrowed six hundred on the crop, and can't get another dollar."
He sat silent for several minutes looking off toward the cotton fields that would cry for water to-morrow in their fight against the eternal desert that brooded over this valley, thinking of her pluck. It made him ashamed of any wavering thought that ever scouted through his own mind.
He stood up. "And are you going to see it through?"