"That's how I had it. As I remember girls -- an' it doesn't seem long since I left home -- most of them would die of lonesomeness up here." Then he addressed himself to Bo. "How about you? You see, I figured you'd be the one that liked it, an' your sister the one who wouldn't.""I won't get lonesome very soon," replied Bo.
"I'm glad. It worried me some -- not ever havin' girls as company before. An' in a day or so, when you're rested, I'll help you pass the time."Bo's eyes were full of flashing interest, and Helen asked him, "How?"It was a sincere expression of her curiosity and not doubtful or ironic challenge of an educated woman to a man of the forest. But as a challenge he took it.
"How!" he repeated, and a strange smile flitted across his face. "Why, by givin' you rides an' climbs to beautiful places. An' then, if you're interested,' to show you how little so-called civilized people know of nature."Helen realized then that whatever his calling, hunter or wanderer or hermit, he was not uneducated, even if he appeared illiterate.
"I'll be happy to learn from you," she said.
"Me, too!" chimed in Bo. "You can't tell too much to any one from Missouri."He smiled, and that warmed Helen to him, for then he seemed less removed from other people. About this hunter there began to be something of the very nature of which he spoke -- a stillness, aloofness, an unbreakable tranquillity, a cold, clear spirit like that in the mountain air, a physical something not unlike the tamed wildness of his pets or the strength of the pines.
"I'll bet I can tell you more 'n you'll ever remember," he said.
"What 'll you bet?" retorted Bo.
"Well, more roast turkey against -- say somethin' nice when you're safe an' home to your uncle Al's, runnin' his ranch.""Agreed. Nell, you hear?"
Helen nodded her head.
"All right. We'll leave it to Nell," began Dale, half seriously. "Now I'll tell you, first, for the fun of passin' time we'll ride an' race my horses out in the park. An' we'll fish in the brooks an' hunt in the woods. There's an old silvertip around that you can see me kill. An' we'll climb to the peaks an' see wonderful sights. . . . So much for that. Now, if you really want to learn -- or if you only want me to tell you -- well, that's no matter. Only I'll win the bet! . . . You'll see how this park lies in the crater of a volcano an' was once full of water -- an' how the snow blows in on one side in winter, a hundred feet deep, when there's none on the other. An' the trees -- how they grow an' live an' fight one another an' depend on one another, an' protect the forest from storm-winds. An' how they hold the water that is the fountains of the great rivers. An' how the creatures an' things that live in them or on them are good for them, an' neither could live without the other. An' then I'll show you my pets tame an' untamed, an' tell you how it's man that makes any creature wild -- how easy they are to tame -- an' how they learn to love you. An' there's the life of the forest, the strife of it -- how the bear lives, an' the cats, an' the wolves, an' the deer. You'll see how cruel nature is how savage an' wild the wolf or cougar tears down the deer -- how a wolf loves fresh, hot blood, an' how a cougar unrolls the skin of a deer back from his neck. An' you'll see that this cruelty of nature -- this work of the wolf an' cougar -- is what makes the deer so beautiful an' healthy an' swift an' sensitive. Without his deadly foes the deer would deteriorate an' die out. An' you'll see how this principle works out among all creatures of the forest. Strife! It's the meanin' of all creation, an' the salvation. If you're quick to see, you'll learn that the nature here in the wilds is the same as that of men -- only men are no longer cannibals. Trees fight to live -- birds fight -- animals fight -- men fight. They all live off one another. An' it's this fightin' that brings them all closer an' closer to bein' perfect. But nothin' will ever be perfect.""But how about religion?" interrupted Helen, earnestly.
