Eleanor could not answer. What was there to say? They went on up the Ridge Trail, Matthews still talking to let her think her own thoughts. There was the story of the last great buffalo hunt at Battleford; of his first buffalo hunt when he had broken away from the other hunters in his early boyhood days and the buffalo bull had got him down in a crack of the earth under its feet. And there was the story of his first Synod Meeting, "when A came all wild an' woolley out o' the West! My five brithers were there; they were a' preachers! One is the bishop! Oh, A guess they were on needles an' pins for fear o' what A'd do! A'd been in the West so long, A didn't know enough not to go shirtsleeves down the streets o' Montreal! Well, been a hot day! 'Twas an evenin' meetin'! All the missionaries to th' Indians were givin' experiences. One got up an' he wanted th' _dear sisters_ to raise a little money to build a fence; a fence, y' understand? An' another got up an' wanted th' _dear sisters_ t' have a sewin' bee, gossip buzz, A call 'em, to raise a little money for the Lord t' build a school. Losh! A stood it long as A could! Then A jumped up! 'Twas a hot night, an' A'd ripped off m' coat! A'm no sure my collar hadn't slumped t' a jelly, too! Says I, 'If y'r reverences will excuse a plain Western man speakin' plain Western speech, A want t' say A don't like t' hear strong well able-bodied men whinin' an' beggin' th' _dear sisters_ t' help them.' Says I, 'If th' brothers will just peel off their coats an' build their own fences, they'll find the Lord 'ull help them without any whinin' an' beggin'! Peel off y' coats, an' y'r dude duds,' says I, 'an' go t' work, an' don't insult God Almighty an' disgust the women folk wi' that milk-sop bottle-baby rubber-ring talk.'" "What did the meeting say?" asked Eleanor, surprised out of herself. "Oh, A dunno that they said much at all! They kind o' stomped, tho'." CHAPTER XXIII IT AIN'T THE TRUTH I'M TELLIN' YOU: IT'S ONLY WHAT I'VE HEERD They were opposite the Cabin. Now, by all the tricks of stage-craft and story-craft, the Ranger should have been standing posed in the doorway; but he wasn't. So different is fact from fiction--so much harder, always; so brutally inconsiderate of our desires; so much more surprisingly beautiful than we can desire. The door stood open and empty. "Wait! A want to leave a note," said Matthews. "May I look in and see what bachelor confusion is like?" asked Eleanor. She wanted to see if he had noticed the framed picture. Noticed--bless you? The thing hung skugee on its nail; and there was a sprig of mountain everlasting stuck in the wire; and Eleanor would really have liked to see whether the glass above that picture were blurred. She leaned over the couch examining it while Matthews wrote a note; and she went hurriedly out of the door hot of face and happy.