ht for an unspeakable second a
vision of that never ceasing, never long deflected on-moving of human
life that must continue, regardless of race tragedy, as long as humans
crave food either for the body or the soul. He might have seen himself
as symbolizing one of those races that slip over the horizon into
oblivion, unprotesting, only vaguely knowing. And seeing this thing, Big
Jim might have paused and looking into the face of the horde that was
pressing him over the brim, he might have said:

"We who are about to die, salute thee!"

But Big Jim was not dramatic. Little Jim never knew what his father
might have said. Instinct told the boy when the end had come. His dry
sobs changed to the abandoned tears of childhood as he ran down the
street of elms and besotted mansions to tell his mother.

CHAPTER II

THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE

"The same sand that gave birth to the coyote and the eagle
gave birth to the Indian and to me. I wonder why!"

MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT.

Little Jim and his mother were left very much alone by Big Jim's death.
Little Jim was literally the last of the Mannings. Mrs. Manning's only
relative, her sister, had died when Jim was a baby. There was no one to
whom Mrs. Manning felt that she could turn for help.

Jim pleaded to be allowed to quit school and go to work.

"I'm fourteen, Mama, and as big as lots of men. I can take care of you."

Mrs. Manning had not cried much. Her heartbreak would not give into
tears easily. But at Jim's words she broke into hysterical sobs.

"Jimmy! Jimmy! I don't see how you can ever think of such a thing after
all Papa said to you. Almost his last advice to you was about getting an
education. He was so proud of your school work. Why, all I've got to
live for now is to carry out Papa's plans for you."

Jimmy stood beside his mother. He was taller than she. Suddenly, with
boyish awkwardness, he pulled the sobbing little woman to him and leaned
his young cheek on her graying hair.

"Mama, I'll make myself into a darned college professor, if you just
won't cry!" he whispered.

For several days after the funeral, Jim wandered about the house and
yard fighting to control his tears when he came upon some sudden
reminder of his father; the broken rake his father had mended the week
before; a pair of old shoes in the wood shed; one of his father's pipes
on the kitchen window ledge. The nights were the wors