The Indian woman looked from the prized object to his animated face; then, with puzzled eyes, she looked at Smith, who touched his forehead with his finger, making a spiral, upward gesture which in the sign language says "crazy." The woman promptly gathered up the rag rug she was braiding and moved to a bench in the farthermost corner of the room. "I can get you a wagon-load of chunks like that." "Oh, my dear sir----" "Smith's my name." "But, Mr. Smith----" "I trusts no man that 'Misters' me," Smith scowled. "Every time I've ever been beat in a deal, it's been by some feller that's called me 'Mister.' Jest Smith suits me better." "Certainly, if you prefer," amicably replied McArthur, although unenlightened by the explanation. He replaced his specimen and tied the sack, convinced that it would be useless to explain to this person that fossils like this were not found by the wagon-load; that perhaps in the entire world there was not one in which the branchiocardiac grooves were so clearly defined, in which the emostigite and the ambulatory legs were so perfectly preserved. He seemed a singular person, this Smith. McArthur was not sure that he fancied him. "Say, Guv'ner, what business do you follow, anyhow?" Tubbs asked the question in the tone of one who really wanted to get at the bottom of a matter which had troubled him. "Air you a bug-hunter by trade, or what? I've hauled you around fer more'n a month now, and ain't figgered it out what you're after. We've dug up ant-hills and busted open most of the rocks between here and the North Fork of Powder River, but I've never seen you git anything yet that anybuddy'd want." In the beginning of their tour, Tubbs's questions and caustic comment would have given McArthur offense, but a longer acquaintance had taught him that none was intended; that his words were merely those of a man entirely without knowledge upon any subject save those which had come under his direct observation. While Tubbs frequently exasperated him beyond expression, he found at the same time a certain fascination in the man's incredible ignorance. In many respects his mind was like that of a child, and his horizon as narrow as McArthur's own, though his companion did not suspect it. The little scientist saw life from the viewpoint of a small college and a New England village; Tubbs knew only the sage-brush plains. McArthur now replied dryly, but without irritation: "My real trade--'job,' if you prefer--is anthropology. Strictly speaking, I might, I think, be called an anthropologist." "Gawd, feller!" ejaculated Smith in mock dismay. "Don't tip your hand like that. I'm a killer myself, but I plays a lone game. I opens up to no man or woman livin'." Tubbs looked slightly ashamed of his employer. "Pardon me?" "I say, never give nobody the cinch on you. Many a good man's tongue has hung him." McArthur studied Smith's unsmiling face in perplexity, not at all sure that he was not in earnest.