h, a great conviction that he could not make clear. "Here I am,
the natural physical man, livin' in the wilds. An' here you come, the
complex, intellectual woman. Remember, for my argument's sake, that
you're here. An' suppose circumstances forced you to stay here. You'd
fight the elements with me an' work with me to sustain life. There
must be a great change in either you or me, accordin' to the other's
influence. An' can't you see that change must come in you, not because
of anythin' superior in me--I'm really inferior to you--but because of
our environment? You'd lose your complexity. An' in years to come you'd
be a natural physical woman, because you'd live through an' by the
physical."

"Oh dear, will not education be of help to the Western woman?" queried
Helen, almost in despair.

"Sure it will," answered Dale, promptly. "What the West needs is women
who can raise an' teach children. But you don't understand me. You don't
get under your skin. I reckon I can't make you see my argument as I feel
it. You take my word for this, though. Sooner or later you WILL wake up
an' forget yourself. Remember."

"Nell, I'll bet you do, too," said Bo, seriously for her. "It may seem
strange to you, but I understand Dale. I feel what he means. It's a sort
of shock. Nell, we're not what we seem. We're not what we fondly imagine
we are. We've lived too long with people--too far away from the earth.
You know the Bible says something like this: 'Dust thou art and to dust
thou shalt return.' Where DO we come from?"

CHAPTER XII

Days passed.

Every morning Helen awoke with a wondering question as to what this
day would bring forth, especially with regard to possible news from her
uncle. It must come sometime and she was anxious for it. Something about
this simple, wild camp life had begun to grip her. She found herself
shirking daily attention to the clothes she had brought West. They
needed it, but she had begun to see how superficial they really were.
On the other hand, camp-fire tasks had come to be a pleasure. She had
learned a great deal more about them than had Bo. Worry and dread
were always impinging upon the fringe of her thoughts--always vaguely
present, though seldom annoying. They were like shadows in dreams. She
wanted to get to her uncle's ranch, to take up the duties of her new
life. But she was not prepared to believe she would not regret this wild
experience. She must get away from that in order to see it cl