His voice was full and strong, and kindly.
The other stirred, but did not reply.
“This is your busy time, Will,” Jim went on. “You didn’t come away from those hills yonder to pass the time of day with me. You came because something wouldn’t let you rest. I know you, boy; I know you. Something’s troubling that mind of yours in a way that makes it hard for you to speak, even now you’re here. Shall I try and begin it for you?”
There was infinite kindness in the man’s tone. There was a smile in his eyes that might well have drawn a responsive smile from even an angry child.
Will removed his pipe, but the responsive smile was not forthcoming.
“I’ll open out, Jim,” he said coldly.
The other waited. The smoke of their pipes rolled up on the still, warm air of the room, upsetting the calculations of a few mischievously busy mosquitoes. The sun shone in through the doorway. The ranch was quiet now. All the “hands” had departed to their work, and only the occasional lowing of a solitary milch cow in one of the corrals, and the trampling feet of the horses waiting to be “broken,” and the “yeps” of a few mouching dogs, afforded any sign of life outside in the ranch yards.
Jim began to grow restive.
“Well, boy: I’ve some ‘breaking’ to do. Maybe you’ll come along. You can talk as we go.”