"God knows I wish the same," I cried. "As for being no better than these other women, I agree to that." And she became suddenly thoughtful. "In judging from a Howard's Creek standpoint you are not so good in many ways. Rather, I should say, not so valuable." "You measure a woman's value as you do your guns and horses," she murmured. Her calmness was rather ominous, and I feared I had bungled. Yet my meaning should have been transparent even to a child. To make sure she had not misconstrued me I explained: "You know what I mean, no matter how I appear to measure you. In making a new country a woman on the edge of things must have certain qualities that the town woman does not possess, does not need to possess. It's because of these qualities that the new country becomes possible as a place to live in; then the town woman develops. Two hundred miles east are conditions that resulted from the rugged qualities of the first women on the first frontier. "Those first women helped to make it safe for their children's children. Now it's behind the frontier and women of your kind live there. In other words"--I was growing a trifle desperate, for her gaze, while persistent, was rather blank--"you don't fit in out here. I doubt if you know how to run bullets or load a gun or throw an ax. I'm sure you'd find it very disagreeable to go barefooted. It isn't your place. Your values shine when you are back in town. That's why I'm sorry you're here." "I haven't shot a rifle, but I could learn," she quietly remarked. "I believe that," I heartily agreed. "But could you take an ax and stand between a drove of children and what you believed to be a band of Indians about to break from cover and begin their work of killing? I saw the Widow McCabe do that. I saw the little Moulton woman, armed with an ax, run to meet the attack." "It's hardly sensible to ask if I could have done this or that. Who knows what I could have done? I shall never have to deal with what is past. And there was a time, I suppose, when all these women were new to the frontier. At least I should be allowed time to learn certain things before you apply your measuring-rod, sir!" "That's right," I admitted. "I was rather unjust, but the fact remains that just now you are out of place and not used to this life and its dangers." "I feel very cross at you. You pass over my father's great work for the settlement with scarcely a word. You complain because I am here and look different from Mrs. Davis. I can't help my looks."