n when he was down, I suppose.
Little person, why can't you like me better?"

"Because you tricked me," she retorted hotly. "Because I trusted you,
and you used that trust to lead me farther astray. Any woman would
hate a man for that. What do you suppose--you, with your knowledge of
life--the world will think of me when I get out of here?"

But Roaring Bill had collected himself, and sat smiling, and made no
reply. He looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, then resumed
his reading of the Mad Philosopher, out of whose essays he seemed to
extract a great deal of quiet amusement.

A day or two after that Hazel came into the kitchen and found Bill
piling towels, napkins, and a great quantity of other soiled articles
on an outspread tablecloth.

"Well," she inquired, "what are you going to do with those?"

"Take 'em to the laundry," he laughed. "Collect your dirty duds, and
bring them forth."

"Laundry!" Hazel echoed. It seemed rather a far-fetched joke.

"Sure! You don't suppose we can get along forever without having
things washed, do you?" he replied. "I don't mind housework, but I do
draw the line at a laundry job when I don't _have_ to do it. Go
on--get your clothes."

So she brought out her accumulation of garments, and laid them on the
pile. Bill tied up the four corners of the tablecloth.

"Now," said he, "let's see if we can't fit you out for a more or less
extended walk. You stay in the house altogether too much these days.
That's bad business. Nothing like exercise in the fresh air."

Thus in a few minutes Hazel fared forth, wrapped in Bill's fur coat, a
flap-eared cap on her head, and on her feet several pairs of stockings
inside moccasins that Bill had procured from some mysterious source a
day or two before.

The day was sunny, albeit the air was hazy with multitudes of floating
frost particles, and the tramp through the forest speedily brought the
roses back to her cheeks. Bill carried the bundle of linen on his
back, and trudged steadily through the woods. But the riddle of his
destination was soon read to her, for a two-mile walk brought them out
on the shore of a fair-sized lake, on the farther side of which loomed
the conical lodges of an Indian camp.

"You sabe now?" said he as they crossed the ice. "This bunch generally
comes in here about this time, and stays till spring. I get the squaws
to wash for me. Ever see Mr. Indian on his native heath?"

Hazel never had,