"Rum meeting place, though," he added, casting an embracing glance
over the primordial landscape and listening for a moment to the
woman's mournful notes. "Her man was clawed by a bear, and she's
taking it hard."

"Beastly life!" Van Brunt grimaced his disgust. "I suppose, after five
years of it, civilization will be sweet? What do you say?"

Fairfax's face took on a stolid expression. "Oh, I don't know. At
least they're honest folk and live according to their lights. And then
they are amazingly simple. No complexity about them, no thousand and
one subtle ramifications to every single emotion they experience. They
love, fear, hate, are angered, or made happy, in common, ordinary, and
unmistakable terms. It may be a beastly life, but at least it is easy
to live. No philandering, no dallying. If a woman likes you, she'll
not be backward in telling you so. If she hates you, she'll tell you
so, and then, if you feel inclined, you can beat her, but the thing
is, she knows precisely what you mean, and you know precisely what
she means. No mistakes, no misunderstandings. It has its charm, after
civilization's fitful fever. Comprehend?"

"No, it's a pretty good life," he continued, after a pause; "good
enough for me, and I intend to stay with it."

Van Brunt lowered his head in a musing manner, and an imperceptible
smile played on his mouth. No philandering, no dallying, no
misunderstanding. Fairfax also was taking it hard, he thought, just
because Emily Southwaithe had been mistakenly clawed by a bear. And
not a bad sort of a bear, either, was Carlton Southwaithe.