arded me had I declared to him some reckless
purpose.

"You make a mistake, David," he said. He stood at the door, with one
hand fumbling the knob. "Still, I wish you success. Suppose I give
you a letter to Carmody. It would be a great help, you know. And I'll
write for you a general recommendation--to whom it may concern--on our
letterhead; it will be of service." He opened the door and stepped
out. He hesitated and came back. "I might tell you, Malcolm, that I
hope soon to launch into New York journalism, when I have exhausted the
possibilities of Coal City. A man can't sit still, you know--that is,
if he has red blood in his veins."

Boller said no more that night, but his manner in parting made it clear
to me that if he came to New York it was his purpose to be of great
service to me, to lift me up with him. His assumption of superiority
filled me with a desire to outrun him. Vanity is a great stimulus to
action, and the inspiring note of my life was forgotten as I
contemplated David Malcolm in his sanctum, at a table littered with
pages, every one of which would stab some devil of corruption or
brighten some lonely hour, pausing at his labor to blow spires of smoke
ceilingward while he gave kindly advice to the man who sat before him,
respectfully erect on his chair, regarding him through drooping glasses.

The college lights were out. I moved to the window and stayed there
for a long time, looking into the summer night. The street lamps
checkered the slope below me, but my eyes went past them; in the depths
of the valley the nail-works were glowing, piling up their tale of
kegs, but I looked beyond them to the mountain which rose from the
river and travelled away like a great shadow, cutting the star-lighted
sky. Where mountain and sky mingled, indefinable in the night, my eyes
rested, but my mind plunged on. My arms lay folded on the window-sill,
and into them my head sank. I crossed mountain after mountain, and
they were but shadows to my youthful strength. What a man David
Malcolm became that night! He won everything that the world holds
worth striving for. He won them all so easily by always doing what was
right. He travelled far because he marched so straight. Then he
mounted to the highest peak--a feat so rare that even his great modesty
could not suppress a cry of exultation. He heard the crunching of a
hoe, and, following the sound, saw the Professor battling with the
ever-charging