LITMIR.BIZ

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drew near the cross roads where the little log house had been built, she stopped, nervously fixed their clothes, took off the Boy's cap and brushed his thick black hair.

      They were the first to arrive, but in a few minutes others came, and by nine o'clock more than thirty scholars were in their seats. The mother's heart sank within her when she met the teacher and heard him talk. It was only too evident that he was poorly equipped for his work. He could barely read and could neither write nor teach arithmetic. The one qualification about which there was absolute certainty, was that he could lick the biggest boy in school whenever the occasion demanded it. He conveyed this interesting bit of information to the assemblage in no uncertain language.

      The mother could scarcely keep back her tears. By the end of the week it was plain that her children knew as much as their teacher.

      "What's the use?" Tom asked in disgust. "Hit's a waste o' time an' money. Let 'em quit!"

      "No, I can't take them out!" was the firm reply. "They may not learn much, but if the school keeps going, don't you see, a better man will come bye and bye, and then it will be worth while."

      Tom shook his head, but let her have her own way.

      "Besides," she went on, "he'll learn something being with the other children."

      "Learn to fight, mebbe," the husband laughed.

      He did, too, and the way it came about was as big a surprise to the Boy as it was to the youngster he fought.

      The small bully of the school lived in the same direction as the Boy and Sarah. They frequently walked together for a mile going or coming and grew to know one another well. The Boy disliked this tow-head urchin from the moment they met. But he was quiet, unobtrusive and modest and generally allowed the loud-mouthed one to have his way. The tow-head took the Boy's quiet ways for submission and insisted on patronizing his friend. The Boy good-naturedly submitted when it cost him nothing of self-respect.

      At the close of school, the tow-head whispered:

      "Come by the spring with me, I want to show you somethin'!"

      "No, I don't want to," he replied.

      "Let Sarah go on an' we'll catch her—I got a funny trick ter show you. You'll kill yourself a-laughin'."

      The Boy's curiosity was aroused and he consented.

      They hastened to the spring where the embers of a fire at which the scholars were accustomed to warm their lunch, were still smouldering. The tow-headed one drew from the corner of the fence a turtle which he had captured and tied, scooped a red-hot coal from the fire with a piece of board and placed it on the turtle's back.

      The poor creature, tortured by the burning coal, started in a scramble trying to run from the fire. The tow-head roared with laughter.

      The Boy flushed with sudden rage, sprang forward and knocked the coal off.

      The two faced each other.

      "You do that again an' I'll knock you down!" shouted the bully.

      "You do it again and I'll knock you down," was the sturdy answer.

      "You will, will you?" the tow-head cried with scorn. "Well, I'll show you."

      With a bound he replaced the coal.

      The Boy knocked it off and pounced on him.

      The fight was brief. They had scarcely touched the ground before the Boy was on top pounding with both his little, clinched fists.

      "Stop it—you're killin' me!" the under one screamed.

      "Will you let him alone?" the Boy hissed.

      "You're killin' me, I tell ye!" the tow-head yelled in terror. "Stop it I say—would you kill a feller just for a doggoned old cooter?"

      "Will you let him alone?"

      "Yes, if ye won't kill me."

      The Boy slowly rose. The tow-head leaped to his feet and with a look of terror started on a run.

      "You needn't run, I won't hit ye again!" the Boy cried.

      But the legs only moved faster. Never since he was born did the Boy see a pair of legs get over the ground like that. He sat down and laughed and then hurried on to join Sarah.

      He didn't tell his sister what had happened. His mother mustn't know that he had been in a fight. But when he felt the touch of her hand on his forehead that night as he rose from her knee he couldn't bear the thought of deceiving her again and so he confessed.

      "It wasn't wrong, was it, to fight for a thing like that?" he asked wistfully.

      "No," came the answer. "He needed a thrashing—the little scoundrel, and I'm glad you did it."

XI

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      The school flickered out in five weeks and the following summer another lasted for six weeks.

      And then they moved to the land Tom had staked off in the heart of the great forest fifteen miles from the northern banks of the Ohio. He would still be in sight of the soil of Kentucky.

      The Boy's heart beat with new wonder as they slowly floated across the broad surface of the river. He could conceive of no greater one.

      "There is a bigger one!" his father said. "The Mississippi is the daddy of 'em all—the Ohio's lost when it rolls into her banks—stretchin' for a thousand miles an' more from the mountains in the north way down to the Gulf of Mexico at New Orleans."

      "And it's all ours?" he asked in wonder.

      "Yes, and plenty more big ones that pour into hit from the West."

      The Boy saw again the impassioned face of the orator telling the glories of his country, and his heart swelled with pride.

      They left the river and plunged into the trackless forest. No roads had yet scarred its virgin soil. Only the blazed trail for the first ten miles—the trail Tom had marked with his own hatchet—and then the magnificent woods without a mark. Five miles further they penetrated, cutting down the brush and trees to make way for the wagon.

      They stopped at last on a beautiful densely wooded hill near a stream of limpid water. A rough camp was quickly built Indian fashion and covered with bear skins.

      The next day the father put into the Boy's hand the new axe he had bought for him.

      "You're not quite eight years old, Boy," he said, encouragingly, "but you're big as a twelve-year-old an' you're spunky. Do you think you can swing an axe that's a man's size?"

      "Yes," was the sturdy answer.

      And from that day he did it with a song on his lips no matter how heavy the heart that beat in his little breast.

      At first they cut the small poles and built a half-faced camp, and made it strong enough to stand the storms of winter in case a cabin could not be finished before spring. This half-faced camp was made of small logs built on three sides, with the fourth open to the south. In front of this opening the log fire was built and its flame never died day or night.

      To the soul of the Boy this half-faced camp with its blazing logs in the shadow of giant trees was the most wonderful dwelling he had ever seen. The stars that twinkled in the sky beyond the lacing boughs were set in his ceiling. No king in his palace could ask for more.

      But into the young mother's heart slowly crept the first shadows of a nameless dread. Fifteen miles from a human habitation in the depths of an unmarked wilderness with only a hunter's camp for her home, and she had dreamed of schools! To her children her face always gave good cheer. But at night she lay awake for long, pitiful hours watching the stars and fighting the battle alone with despair.

      Yet

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