Tom, the cougar, put in an appearance then, and there was scarcely love in the tawny eyes he bent upon Pedro. But the hound did not deign to notice him. Tom sidled up to Bo, who sat on the farther side of the tarpaulin table-cloth, and manifestly wanted part of her breakfast. “Gee! I love the look of him,” she said. “But when he's close he makes my flesh creep.” “Beasts are as queer as people,” observed Dale. “They take likes an' dislikes. I believe Tom has taken a shine to you an' Pedro begins to be interested in your sister. I can tell.” “Where's Bud?” inquired Bo. “He's asleep or around somewhere. Now, soon as I get the work done, what would you girls like to do?” “Ride!” declared Bo, eagerly. “Aren't you sore an' stiff?” “I am that. But I don't care. Besides, when I used to go out to my uncle's farm near Saint Joe I always found riding to be a cure for aches.” “Sure is, if you can stand it. An' what will your sister like to do?” returned Dale, turning to Helen. “Oh, I'll rest, and watch you folks--and dream,” replied Helen. “But after you've rested you must be active,” said Dale, seriously. “You must do things. It doesn't matter what, just as long as you don't sit idle.” “Why?” queried Helen, in surprise. “Why not be idle here in this beautiful, wild place? just to dream away the hours--the days! I could do it.” “But you mustn't. It took me years to learn how bad that was for me. An' right now I would love nothin' more than to forget my work, my horses an' pets--everythin', an' just lay around, seein' an' feelin'.” “Seeing and feeling? Yes, that must be what I mean. But why--what is it? There are the beauty and color--the wild, shaggy slopes--the gray cliffs--the singing wind--the lulling water--the clouds--the sky. And the silence, loneliness, sweetness of it all.” “It's a driftin' back. What I love to do an' yet fear most. It's what makes a lone hunter of a man. An' it can grow so strong that it binds a man to the wilds.” “How strange!” murmured Helen. “But that could never bind ME. Why, I must live and fulfil my mission, my work in the civilized world.” It seemed to Helen that Dale almost imperceptibly shrank at her earnest words. “The ways of Nature are strange,” he said. “I look at it different. Nature's just as keen to wean you back to a savage state as you are to be civilized. An' if Nature won, you would carry out her design all the better.” This hunter's talk shocked Helen and yet stimulated her mind. “Me--a savage? Oh no!” she exclaimed. “But, if that were possible, what would Nature's design be?” “You spoke of your mission in life,” he replied. “A woman's mission is to have children. The female of any species has only one mission--to reproduce its kind. An' Nature has only one mission--toward greater strength, virility, efficiency--absolute perfection, which is unattainable.” “What of mental and spiritual development of man and woman?” asked Helen.