he semi-luxuries we've got here in this cabin. Not by a
long shot. Still, there's a chance for a good big stake, right in that
one trip."

"But why the necessity for making a stake?" she inquired thoughtfully,
after a lapse of five minutes. "I thought you didn't care anything
about money so long as you had enough to get along on? And we surely
have that. We've got over two thousand dollars in real money--and no
place to spend it--so we're compelled to save."

Bill blew a smoke ring over his head and watched it vanish up toward
the dusky roof beams before he answered.

"Well, little person," said he, "that's very true, and we can't
truthfully say that stern necessity is treading on our heels. The
possession of money has never been a crying need with me. But I hadn't
many wants when I was playing a lone hand, and I generally let the
future take care of itself. It was always easy to dig up money enough
to buy books and grub or anything I wanted. Now that I've assumed a
certain responsibility, it has begun to dawn on me that we'd enjoy life
better if we were assured of a competence. We can live on the country
here indefinitely. But we won't stay here always. I'm pretty much
contented just now. So are you. But I know from past experience that
the outside will grow more alluring as time passes. You'll get
lonesome for civilization. It's the most natural thing in the world.
And when we go out to mix with our fellow humans we want to meet them
on terms of worldly equality. Which is, to say with good clothes on,
and a fat bank roll in our pocket. The best is none too good for us,
lady. And the best costs money. Anyway, I'll plead guilty to
changing, or, rather, modifying my point of view--getting married has
opened up new vistas of pleasure for us that call for dollars. And
last, but not least, old girl, while I love to loaf, I can only loaf
about so long in contentment. Sabe? I've got to be doing _something_;
whether it was profitable or not has never mattered, just so it was
action."

"I sabe, as you call it," Hazel smiled. "Of course I do. Only lazy
people like to loaf all the time. I love this place, and we might stay
here for years and be satisfied. But--"

"But we'd be better satisfied to stay if we knew that we could leave it
whenever we wanted to," he interrupted. "That's the psychology of the
human animal, all right. We don't like to be coerced, even by
circumstances. Well, granted he