irls 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'l