"I suppose that many a woman has tried it," Miss Newell said evasively,
"but I'm sure she"--

"Never lived to tell the tale?" cried Arnold.

"She probably had something else to do, while the hunter was riding around
with his gun," Miss Frances continued.

"Well, give her the odds of the rifle and the steed; give the man some
commonplace employment to take the swagger out of him; let him come home
reasonably tired and cross at night,--do you suppose he would find the
'kind' eyes and the 'smile'? I forgot to tell you that the Hunter of the
Prairies is always welcomed by a smile at night."

"He must have been an uncommonly fortunate man," she said.

"Of course he was; but the question is: Could any living man be so
fortunate? Come, Miss Frances, don't prevaricate!"

"Well, am I speaking for the average woman?"

"Oh, not at all,--you are speaking for the very nicest of women; any other
kind would be intolerable on a prairie."

"I should think, if she were very healthy," said Miss Newell, hesitating
between mischief and shyness, "and not too imaginative, and of a cheerful
disposition; and if he, the hunter, were above the average,--supposing that
she cared for him in the beginning,--I should think the smile might last a
year or two."