Blake was silent. It was too much like that old thing that used to puzzle him so at breakfast; the picture of the girl on the box of cornflakes. She held another box of cornflakes on her lap, with a picture on it of a girl holding a box of cornflakes, with a picture of a girl.... Once upon a time he had studied that picture until he was nearly crazy, trying to imagine what happened after the boxes had become so small that he couldn’t see them. He grunted and rolled over with his nose burrowed into the blanket. “That’s why we bother our heads about little things,” said Gin. “When we try to figure out big ones, we go crazy.” “Some people do,” Teddy said. “They stop thinking about everything but that one question, What is Truth? Scientists....” “I know,” she said impatiently. “Arrowsmith stuff. What difference does it all make?” She unrolled her blanket and started to take off her shoes. “We’re like a legend,” Blake said after a moment. “Three brave people going out into the world. It makes me feel brave to sleep next to a fire. I don’t know why.” “It is like that,” Gin said eagerly. “Like the Three Musketeers, but there were four Musketeers really, weren’t there? I always forget. Perhaps we’ll pick up a fourth somewhere.” “I hope not,” said Teddy. “Four would be too many and we’d have trouble.” “I don’t see why.” “If we pick up another man, he’ll start making love to you; and if we pick up another girl one of us will start making love to her.” “I don’t think so.” Blake sat up. “We don’t make love now, so why should anyone else start us off? We’re different.” “Oh, you think so?” Teddy laughed in a nasty patronizing manner that disturbed Blake. “Wait a while. We know each other too well, this crowd. Take it from me, someone else will spoil it.” Blake was uneasy. He hated to carry the conversation farther, but he was too worried to let it drop. “Why should we change?” he persisted. “We get along.” “How do you know? How do you know Gin gets along, for instance? Or that I do?” Gin interrupted, saying, “Oh, shut up, Teddy. Never mind,” she added to Blake, “he’s talking through his hat. Go to sleep.” Wonderingly, Blake looked from one to the other of his companions. They were glaring at each other. “Leave him alone,” said Gin. “Why should I? What are you trying to do; mother him? This is no nursery.” Teddy lay down with his back to the others. “Well then, try to act your age,” she retorted, but there was no answer. In the next few minutes the quiet of the prairie was disturbed by Teddy’s soft snores. The atmosphere had cleared and everything was peaceful. Blake sighed and flopped over in his cocoon. “Gin,” he whispered experimentally. She lifted her head. “I can’t sleep.” They peered at Teddy, and she added, “I think I’ll take a walk. It’s awfully early. Do you want to come along?”