Rube'll get it ready."

Gideon did not respond to the invitation.

"Buildin's progressin' all s'rene," he observed. "I like this yer
room. It's real homesome; and the view fr'm your front windows and the
veranda's real elegant. Time you gets a collection o' choice flowers
in your door-yard, you'll have 'bout the most desirable residence in
the hull state of Wyoming. Ain't you satisfied? What's the matter?"

"I'm just some worr'ed, Gid," Kiddie answered, flinging a leg over the
arm of his chair.

"My!" exclaimed Gideon. "What in creation 've you gotter worry about?"

"Just the cabin," Kiddie answered dreamily. "Just the cabin and my
living in it all lonesome; enjoyin' it--enjoyin' it too much. It's
just what I've wanted. Everything's all as I planned. But I've bin
thinkin', Gideon; thinking hard."

"That ain't a new experience fer you, Kiddie," said Gid. "You was
allus' a deep thinker. Guess it's the Injun blood in you assertin'
itself. An' what's the matter wi' the cabin ter make you meditate an'
worry?"

"Why," Kiddie responded slowly, keeping his Western manner of speech,
as was usual with him when addressing Gideon Birkenshaw, "I've come to
the conclusion as it ain't just right an' proper o' me ter live here
with everything I most covet in the shape of personal comfort--a cosy
home in beautiful scenery, with the perfumed pine trees all around, the
woodland solitude, where I c'n study the wild critters, beasts an'
birds an' insects; the creek an' the lake, where I c'n paddle an' fish;
my time all my own, with no slavish duties, no tasks, no
responsibilities. An' it's all selfish, Gid, real mean an' selfish."

"Selfish, Kiddie?" Gideon screwed up his eyes in wonder.

"Yes. It ain't anyways right for a man ter live for himself alone,
shirkin' his duties ter humanity. What did I do this mornin' that was
any good whatever to anybody in th' world but myself? I went out 'fore
sunrise, when the blue mist was hangin' round the mountain tops an' in
among the trees. It was like a fairy dream. I listened t' th'
orchestra of the birds--the woodthrush, the veery, the scarlet tanager
an' the rest of the thrillin' songsters--and the music was more
delicious 'n any opera I've heard in London an' Paris. I wasted a full
hour watchin' a fool centipede that had gotten himself tangled in a
spider's web--watched th' manoeuvres of that spider for a full hour, I
did."

"I allow you learnt suthin', too, sinc