Wallie shook his head:
"I shan't tell you until you've passed upon them."
"If you've got enough of whatever it is—that's all that's worryin' me," declared Pinkey, hungrily. "You'd ought to build you a root cellar next winter—if you're livin'," he remarked as the potatoes rattled when Wallie dropped them in the kettle.
"Do you suppose I could grow potatoes? Is it too dry?"
"This is a great country for potatoes. There's somethin' in the soil that gits in the potatoes' eyes and makes 'em water so they irrigate themselves. Shore! you can grow potatoes."
"I want to make a good many improvements here before next winter," announced Wallie, hopefully. "I wish you could come over for awhile and help me."
"That mightn't be a bad idea," said Pinkey, thoughtfully. "Sence the country went dry I don't much care whether I draw wages or not—they's nothin' to spend money for, so what's the use of workin'? If I was over here I might add a few feet to my rope and git me a good little start off Canby."
"Do you see much of him?" Wallie asked, indifferently.
"Too much," said Pinkey, shortly.
Wallie dropped the pan he was turning in the oven.