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miniature stems； and the microcosm of life that filled it。 But；
even while paying this tribute to the accuracy of the unknown
poetess； he was； like his predecessor； haunted more strongly by the
atmosphere and melody of her verse。 Its spell was upon him； too。
Unlike Mr。 Hamlin； he did not sing。 He only halted once or twice；
silently combing his straight narrow beard with his three fingers；
until the action seemed to draw down the lines of his face into
limitless dejection； and an inscrutable melancholy filled his small
gray eyes。 The few birds which had hailed Mr。 Hamlin as their
successful rival fled away before the grotesque and angular half…
length of Mr。 Bowers； as if the wind had blown in a scarecrow from
the distant farms。
Suddenly he observed the figure of a woman； with her back towards
him； leaning motionless against a tree； and apparently gazing
intently in the direction of Green Springs。 He had approached so
near to her that it was singular she had not heard him。 Mr。 Bowers
was a bashful man in the presence of the other sex。 He felt
exceedingly embarrassed； if he could have gone away without
attracting her attention he would have done so。 Neither could he
remain silent； a tacit spy of her meditation。 He had recourse to a
polite but singularly artificial cough。
To his surprise； she gave a faint cry； turned quickly towards him；
and then shrank back and lapsed quite helpless against the tree。
Her evident distress overcame his bashfulness。 He ran towards her。
〃I'm sorry I frighted ye； ma'am； but I was afraid I might skeer ye
more if I lay low； and said nothin'。〃
Even then； if she had been some fair young country girl； he would
have relapsed after this speech into his former bashfulness。 But
the face and figure she turned towards him were neither young nor
fair： a woman past forty； with gray threads and splashes in her
brushed…back hair； which was turned over her ears in two curls like
frayed strands of rope。 Her forehead was rather high than broad；
her nose large but well…shaped； and her eyes full but so singularly
light in color as to seem almost sightless。 The short upper lip of
her large mouth displayed her teeth in an habitual smile； which was
in turn so flatly contradicted by every other line of her careworn
face that it seemed gratuitously artificial。 Her figure was hidden
by a shapeless garment that partook equally of the shawl； cloak；
and wrapper。
〃I am very foolish；〃 she began； in a voice and accent that at once
asserted a cultivated woman； 〃but I so seldom meet anybody here
that a voice quite startled me。 That； and the heat；〃 she went on；
wiping her face； into which the color was returning violently〃for
I seldom go out as early as thisI suppose affected me。〃
Mr。 Bowers had that innate Far…Western reverence for womanhood
which I fancy challenges the most polished politeness。 He remained
patient； undemonstrative； self…effacing； and respectful before her；
his angular arm slightly but not obtrusively advanced； the offer of
protection being in the act rather than in any spoken word； and
requiring no response。
〃Like as not； ma'am；〃 he said； cheerfully looking everywhere but in
her burning face。 〃The sun IS pow'ful hot at this time o' day； I
felt it myself comin' yer； and； though the damp of this timber
kinder sets it back； it's likely to come out ag'in。 Ye can't check
it no more than the sap in that choked limb thar〃he pointed
ostentatiously where a fallen pine had been caught in the bent and
twisted arm of another； but which still put out a few green tassels
beyond the point of impact。 〃Do you live far from here； ma'am？〃 he
added。
〃Only as far as the first turning below the hill。〃
〃I've got my buggy here； and I'm goin' that way； and I can jist set
ye down thar cool and comfortable。 Ef；〃 he continued； in the same
assuring tone； without waiting for a reply； 〃ye'll jist take a good
grip of my arm thar；〃 curving his wrist and hand behind him like a
shepherd's crook； 〃I'll go first； and break away the brush for ye。〃
She obeyed mechanically； and they fared on through the thick ferns
in this fashion for some moments； he looking ahead； occasionally
dropping a word of caution or encouragement； but never glancing at
her face。 When they reached the buggy he lifted her into it
carefully；and perpendicularly； it struck her afterwards； very
much as if she had been a transplanted sapling with bared and
sensitive roots；and then gravely took his place beside her。
〃Bein' in the timber trade myself； ma'am；〃 he said； gathering up
the reins； 〃I chanced to sight these woods； and took a look around。
My name is Bowers； of Mendocino； I reckon there ain't much that
grows in the way o' standin' timber on the Pacific Slope that I
don't know and can't locate； though I DO say it。 I've got ez big a
mill； and ez big a run in my district； ez there is anywhere。 Ef
you're ever up my way； you ask for BowersJim Bowersand that's
ME。〃
There is probably nothing more conducive to conversation between
strangers than a wholesome and early recognition of each other's
foibles。 Mr。 Bowers； believing his chance acquaintance a superior
woman； naively spoke of himself in a way that he hoped would
reassure her that she was not compromising herself in accepting his
civility； and so satisfy what must be her inevitable pride。 On the
other hand； the woman regained her self…possession by this
exhibition of Mr。 Bowers's vanity； and； revived by the refreshing
breeze caused by the rapid motion of the buggy along the road；
thanked him graciously。
〃I suppose there are many strangers at the Green Springs Hotel；〃
she said； after a pause。
〃I didn't get to see 'em； as I only put up my hoss there；〃 he
replied。 〃But I know the stage took some away this mornin'： it
seemed pretty well loaded up when I passed it。〃
The woman drew a deep sigh。 The act struck Mr。 Bowers as a
possible return of her former nervous weakness。 Her attention must
at once be distracted at any costeven conversation。
〃Perhaps；〃 he began； with sudden and appalling lightness； 〃I'm
a…talkin' to Mrs。 McFadden？〃
〃No；〃 said the woman； abstractedly。
〃Then it must be Mrs。 Delatour？ There are only two township lots
on that crossroad。〃
〃My name IS Delatour；〃 she said； somewhat wearily。
Mr。 Bowers was conversationally stranded。 He was not at all
anxious to know her name； yet； knowing it now； it seemed to suggest
that there was nothing more to say。 He would； of course； have
preferred to ask her if she had read the poetry about the
Underbrush； and if she knew the poetess； and what she thought of
it； but the fact that she appeared to be an 〃eddicated〃 woman made
him sensitive of displaying technical ignorance in his manner of
talking about it。 She might ask him if it was 〃subjective or
〃objective〃two words he had heard used at the Debating Society at
Mendocino on the question； 〃Is poetry