ciously subdued the clatter of pot and pan. Somewhere a child
was crying, and from the depths of the forest, like a silver
thread, rose a woman's voice in mournful chant:

"O-o-o-o-o-o-a-haa-ha-a-ha-aa-a-a, O-o-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ha-a."

Van Brunt shivered and rubbed the backs of his hands briskly.

"And they gave me up for dead?" his companion asked slowly.

"Well, you never came back, so your friends--"

"Promptly forgot." Fairfax laughed harshly, defiantly.

"Why didn't you come out?"

"Partly disinclination, I suppose, and partly because of circumstances
over which I had no control. You see, Tantlatch, here, was down with a
broken leg when I made his acquaintance,--a nasty fracture,--and I
set it for him and got him into shape. I stayed some time, getting my
strength back. I was the first white man he had seen, and of course I
seemed very wise and showed his people no end of things. Coached them
up in military tactics, among other things, so that they conquered the
four other tribal villages, (which you have not yet seen), and came to
rule the land. And they naturally grew to think a good deal of me, so
much so that when I was ready to go they wouldn't hear of it. Were
most hospitable, in fact. Put a couple of guards over me and watched
me day and night. And then Tantlatch offered me inducements,--in a
sense, inducements,--so to say, and as it didn't matter much one way
or the other, I reconciled myself to remaining."

"I knew your brother at Freiburg. I am Van Brunt."

Fairfax reached forward impulsively and shook his hand. "You were
Billy's friend, eh? Poor Billy! He spoke of you often."

"Rum meeting place, though," he added, casting an embracing glance
over the primordial landscape and listening for a moment to the
woman's mournful notes. "Her man was clawed by a bear, and she's
taking it hard."

"Beastly life!" Van Brunt grimaced his disgust. "I suppose, after five
years of it, civilization will be sweet? What do you say?"

Fairfax's face took on a stolid expression. "Oh, I don't know. At
least they're honest folk and live according to their lights. And then
they are amazingly simple. No complexity about them, no thousand and
one subtle ramifications to every single emotion they experience. They
love, fear, hate, are angered, or made happy, in common, ordinary, and
unmistakable terms. It may be a beastly life, but at least it is easy
to live. No philandering, no dallying. If a woman likes you, she'll