Jeff laughed without any visible sign of lightness.
"No," he said. Then with a deep sigh. "Thank God nothing has
happened. But----"
"Then the trouble----?"
"The trouble? Say, Bud, try to get it all as I see it. It's
difficult. The boy's away up trapping and shooting--for a
living--somewhere in the Cathills. He's away there living on hard pan,
while I'm here steadily traipsing on with you to a big pile. Remember
he's my other--half. Do you know how I feel? No, you can't. Say,
he's as merry as I am--dour. He's as fond of life, and play, and the
good things of the world as I'm indifferent to 'em. He's
reckless--he's _weak_." Suddenly Jeff's eyes lit. A great passion
seemed to surge through his whole body. "Bud, I want him here. I want
to be always around to help him when he gets bumping into potholes.
It's that weakness that sets me crazy when I think. He ain't made for
the dreary grind of the life we live. That's why he cut it out when I
came here. Well there's no grind for him now, and I want to have him
come along and share in with me.
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