“For company,” said the Harvester. “I thought you would prefer an animal you are not afraid of to a man you are. But let me tell you there is no necessity for either. I know a woman who goes alone and unafraid through every foot of woods in this part of the country. She has climbed, crept, and waded, and she tells me she never saw but two venomous snakes this side of Michigan. Nothing ever dropped on her or sprang at her. She feels as secure in the woods as she does at home.”
“Isn't she afraid of snakes?”
“She dislikes snakes, but she is not afraid or she would not risk encountering them daily.”
“Do you ever find any?”
“Harmless little ones, often. That is, Bel does. He is always nosing for them, because he understands that I work in the earth. I think I have encountered three dangerous ones in my life. I will guarantee you will not find one in these woods. They are too open and too much cleared.”
“Then why leave the dog?”
“I thought,” said the Harvester patiently, “that your uncle might have turned in some of his cattle, or if pigs came here the dog could chase them away.”
She looked at him with utter panic in her face.
“I am far more afraid of a cow than a snake!” she cried. “It is so much bigger!”
“How did you ever come into these woods alone far enough to find the ginseng?” asked the Harvester. “Answer me that!”