“God knows I do. Why do you ask me that question?”
“And yuh ain’t afraid of me?”
“Not one bit,” declared Mrs. Kirk. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Stay and help yuh all I can, ma’am. I ain’t one of them lousy persons which looks down upon a sheep-herder. I reckon yore husband is quite some top-hand, when he’s up and doin’ his stuff.”
“Jim is my pal.”
“Whatcha know?” grunted Roper. “Whatcha know? Ma’am, you lay down and take a nap, and I’ll take care of him.”
There was one home-made rocking-chair in the room, and Mrs. Kirk sat down in it.
“I can not sleep, but it is a godsend to have some one here to talk with,” she said wearily.
“Yes’m,” nodded Roper slowly. “Nobody ever called me that name before, but it’s all right, I reckon.”
He slowly rolled a cigaret, and as he drew his lips across the edge of the paper he glanced at Mrs. Kirk. She had fallen asleep, with her head pillowed in her arm.