terror
for the girl. Her anxiety melted, and she smiled at his manner of
stating his case.

"I wonder how it comes you men-folk so love the trail," she said. "I
don't suppose it's all for profit--anyway not with you. Is it
adventure? No. It's not all adventure either. It's just dead
hardship half the time. Yes--it's a sort of craziness. Say, how does
it feel to be crazy that way?"

"Feel? That's some proposition." Kars' face lit with amusement as he
pondered the question. "Say, ever skip out of school at the Mission,
and make a camp in the woods?"

The girl shook her head.

"Ah, then that won't help us any," Kars demurred, his eyes dwelling on
the ruddy brown of the girl's chestnut hair. "What about a swell party
after three days of chores in the house, when a blizzard's blowing?"

"That doesn't seem like any craziness," the girl protested.

"No, I guess not."

Kars searched again for a fresh simile.

"Say, how'd you feel if you'd never seen a flower, or green grass, or
woods, and rivers, and mountains?" he suddenly demanded. "How'd you
feel if you'd lived in a prison most all your life, and never felt your
lungs take in a big dose of God's pure air, or stretched the strong
elastic of the muscles your parents gave you? How'd you feel if you'd
read and read all about the wonderful things of Nature, and never seen
them, and then, all of a sudden, you found yourself out in a world full
of trees, and flowers, and mountains, and woods, and skitters, and
neches, and air--God's pure air, and with muscles so strong you could
take a ten foot jump, and all the wonderful things you'd read about
going on around you, such as fighting, murdering, and bugs and things,
and folks who figger they're every sort of fellers, and aren't,
and--and all that? Say, wouldn't you feel crazy? Wouldn't you feel
you wanted to take it all in your arms, and, and just love it to death?"

"Maybe--for a while."

The girl's eyes were smiling provocatively. She loved to hear him
talk. The strong rich tones of his voice in the quiet of the woodland
gave her a sense of possession of him.

She went on.

"After, I guess I'd be yearning for the big wood stove, and a rocker,
with elegant cushions, and the sort of food you can't cook over a
camp-fire."

Kars shook his head.

"Maybe you'd fancy feeling those things were behind you on the day your
joints began aching, and your breath gets as short as a locomotive on
an up grade.