"He is not lazy intellectually," said the colonel, aiming to comfort her.

"I did not say he was lazy--only he won't do things except to what he
calls some 'purpose.' At his age amusement ought to be purpose enough. He
ought to take his pleasures seriously--this hunting-trip, for instance. I
believe, on the very least encouragement, he would give it all up!"

"You mustn't let him do that," said the colonel, warming. "All that
country above Yankee Fork, for a hundred miles, after you've gone fifty
north from Bonanza, is practically virgin forest. Wonderful flora and
fauna! It's late for the weeds and things, but if Paul wants game trophies
for your country-house, he can load a pack-train."

Mrs. Bogardus continued to be amused, in a quiet way. "He calls them
relics of barbarism! He would as soon festoon his walls with scalps, as
decorate them with the heads of beautiful animals,--nearer the Creator's
design than most men, he would say."

"He's right there! But that doesn't change the distinction between men and
animals. He is your son, madam--and he's going to be mine. But, fine boy
as he is, I call him a crank of the first water."

"You'll find him quite good to Moya," Mrs. Bogardus remarked
dispassionately. "And he's not quite twenty-four."

"Very true. Well, _I_ should send him into the woods for the sake of
getting a little sense into him, of an every-day sort. He 'll take in
sanity with every breath."