"I don't quite know," and Brooke smiled grimly. "Up and down the province—anywhere I can pick up a dollar or two daily by working for them."
"The trouble is that they're so blamed hard to stick to when you've got them," said Jimmy, reflectively. "Now, you don't want dollars here."
"If I had two thousand of them I'd stay, and make something of the ranch, rocky as it is."
"It couldn't be done with less, and I guess you're sensible. I'm quite happy slouching round here, but there's a kind of difference between you and me. That girl with the big eyes has been putting notions into you?"
Brooke made no disclaimer, and Jimmy laughed. "It's a little curious—you don't even know who she is?"
"Her name is Barbara. She is, she told me, a Canadian."
"Canada's quite a big country," said Jimmy, reflectively. "You could put England into its vest pocket without knowing it was there. I guess it will be a long while before you see her again, and if you meet her in the cities she's not going to remember you. You'd find her quite a different kind of young woman there. When are you going?"
"At sundown. I'd go now, but I want a few hours' rest and sleep."
Jimmy looked at him with sudden concern in his face. "Then I'll be good and lonely to-night," he said. "Say, do you think I could take out the fiddle now and then to keep me company? I guess I could play it, like a banjo, with my fingers."
"No," said Brooke, drily, "that's the one thing you can't do."