ith them. Lying there in the Southern thickets
in the close damp heat of summer he saw again his Vermont mountains with
their slopes deep in green and their crests covered with snow. The sharp
air of the northern winter blew down upon him, and he saw the clear
waters of the little rivers, cold as ice, foaming over the stones. That
air was sharp and vital, but, after a while, he came back to himself and
closed his book with a sigh.

"Pardon me for inattention, boys," he said, "but while I was enjoying
my algebra I was also thinking of old times back there in Vermont, when
nobody was shooting at anybody else."

Dick and Pennington walked solemnly back and sat down beside him again.

"Returned to his right mind. Quite sane now," said Pennington. "But
don't you think, Dick, we ought to take that exciting book away from
him? The mind of youth in its tender formative state can be inflamed
easily by light literature."

Warner smiled and put his beloved book in his pocket.

"No, boys," he said, "you won't take it away from me, but as soon
as this war is over I shall advance from it to studies of a somewhat
similar nature, but much higher in character, and so difficult that
solving them will afford a pleasure keener and more penetrating than
anything else I know."

"What is your greatest ambition, Warner?" asked Pennington. "Do you,
like all the rest of us, want to be President of the United States?"

"Not for a moment. I've already been in training several years to be
president of Harvard University. What higher place could mortal ask?
None, because there is none to ask for."

"I can understand you, George," said Dick. "My great-grandfather became
the finest scholar ever known in the West. There was something of the
poet in him too. He had a wonderful feeling for nature and the forest.
He had a remarkable chance for observation as he grew up on the border,
and was the close comrade in the long years of Indian fighting of Henry
Ware, who was the greatest governor of Kentucky. As I think I've
told you fellows, Harry Kenton, Governor Ware's great-grandson and my
comrade, is fighting on the other side."

"I knew of the great Dr. Cotter long before I met you, Dick," replied
Warner. "I read his book on the Indians of the Northern Mississippi
Valley. Not merely their history and habits, but their legends, their
folk lore, and the wonderful poetic glow so rich and fine that he threw
over everything. There was something almost