s of this country and people, that he
took his medicine like a--I cannot say "like a man," but more as if he
wasn't one.

Don't misunderstand me for a moment. Dear old Jeff was no milksop or
molly-coddle either. He was a strong, brave, efficient man, and an
excellent fighter when fighting was necessary. But there was always this
angel streak in him. It was rather a wonder, Terry being so different,
that he really loved Jeff as he did; but it happens so sometimes, in
spite of the difference--perhaps because of it.

As for me, I stood between. I was no such gay Lothario as Terry, and no
such Galahad as Jeff. But for all my limitations I think I had the habit
of using my brains in regard to behavior rather more frequently than
either of them. I had to use brain-power now, I can tell you.

The big point at issue between us and our wives was, as may easily be
imagined, in the very nature of the relation.

"Wives! Don't talk to me about wives!" stormed Terry. "They don't know
what the word means."

Which is exactly the fact--they didn't. How could they? Back in their
prehistoric records of polygamy and slavery there were no ideals of
wifehood as we know it, and since then no possibility of forming such.

"The only thing they can think of about a man is FATHERHOOD!" said Terry
in high scorn. "FATHERHOOD! As if a man was always wanting to be a
FATHER!"

This also was correct. They had their long, wide, deep, rich experience
of Motherhood, and their only perception of the value of a male creature
as such was for Fatherhood.

Aside from that, of course, was the whole range of personal love, love
which as Jeff earnestly phrased it "passeth the love of women!" It did,
too. I can give no idea--either now, after long and happy experience of
it, or as it seemed then, in the first measureless wonder--of the beauty
and power of the love they gave us.

Even Alima--who had a more stormy temperament than either of the others,
and who, heaven knows, had far more provocation--even Alima was patience
and tenderness and wisdom personified to the man she loved, until
he--but I haven't got to that yet.

These, as Terry put it, "alleged or so-called wives" of ours, went right
on with their profession as foresters. We, having no special learnings,
had long since qualified as assistants. We had to do something, if only
to pass the time, and it had to be work--we couldn't be playing forever.

This kept us out of doors with those dear