you do?" Jeff asked mildly.

Jeff was a tender soul. I think he thought that country--if
there was one--was just blossoming with roses and babies and
canaries and tidies, and all that sort of thing.

And Terry, in his secret heart, had visions of a sort of
sublimated summer resort--just Girls and Girls and Girls--and
that he was going to be--well, Terry was popular among women even
when there were other men around, and it's not to be wondered
at that he had pleasant dreams of what might happen. I could see
it in his eyes as he lay there, looking at the long blue rollers
slipping by, and fingering that impressive mustache of his.

But I thought--then--that I could form a far clearer idea of
what was before us than either of them.

"You're all off, boys," I insisted. "If there is such a place--and
there does seem some foundation for believing it--you'll find it's
built on a sort of matriarchal principle, that's all. The men have
a separate cult of their own, less socially developed than the
women, and make them an annual visit--a sort of wedding call.
This is a condition known to have existed--here's just a survival.
They've got some peculiarly isolated valley or tableland up there,
and their primeval customs have survived. That's all there is to it."

"How about the boys?" Jeff asked.

"Oh, the men take them away as soon as they are five or six, you see."