"She says the other thing," returned the host, thoughtful of a sudden.
"Out of the spirit of contradiction, that's all."
"It's very certain," interposed Joe, "if she was educated at New Orleans, that she must be a rare exception to the troops of schoolgirls who go out riding on the Shell Road."
"It's all pure contradiction," resumed Dearborn; "who can say a thing is black to a woman without her saying it is white?"
"Or grey, at least," added the lieutenant, sagely.
"That's why," continued the youngest man, "I have sworn off woman's society. Though the best woman in creation came out here, I should send her back to the nearest railway station! I'll never cumber myself up with the baggage! They're a bad bargain, though they come with a million in the Funds!"
"Whew!" exclaimed Joe, laughing, "Our guide does not strike me as a very passionate adorer of the sex."
"No, no, don't put me down as either hating or liking them," went on the hunter; "write me as indifferent. My father was a man of great good sense; an oracle in his county. He used to say that the modern woman is like the grand piano: it looks useful, but it takes up too much room, and is always in the way. You cannot use the wires for a gridiron, the top is badly shaped for a billiard table, and the legs are so hard, you cannot chop them up in a sudden emergency for heating shaving water. And when she is musical, the neighbours move out and leave the last quarter's rent owing. I agree with my dear old dad."
The others laughed.
"The sad part of it all is, that we must pass three or four days we might have saved in this dreary solitude," remarked the captain.