ostasy. With the
river of the Water of Life springing crystal clear at his feet, should
he turn away and drink from the bitter pools in the wilderness of this
world? With prophetic eye he saw himself as another Boanerges, lifting,
with all the inspiring eloquence of the son of thunder, the Baptist's
soul-shaking cry, _Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand_!

The thought thrilled him, and the fierce glow of enthusiasm became an
intoxicating ecstasy. The tinkling drip of falling water broke into the
noonday silence of the forest like the low-voiced call of a sacred bell.
For the first time since leaving the mountain top he took note of his
surroundings. He was standing beside the great, cubical boulder under
the cedars--the high altar in nature's mountain tabernacle.

Ah, Martha Gordon, mother of many prayers, look now, if you can, but not
too closely or too long! Is it merely the boy you have molded and
fashioned, or is it the convinced and consecrated evangelist of the
future, who falls on his knees beside the great rock, with head bent and
fingers tightly interlocked, groping desperately for words in which to
rededicate himself to the God of your fathers?

Thomas Jefferson had the deep peace of the fully committed when he rose
from his knees and went to drink at the spouting rock lip. It was
decided now, this thing he had been holding half-heartedly in abeyance.
There would be no more dallying with temptation, no more rebellion, no
more irreverent stumblings in the dark valley of doubtful questions.
More especially, he would be vigilant to guard against those
backslidings that came so swiftly on the heels of each spiritual
quickening. His heart was fixed, so irrevocably, so surely, that he
could almost wish that Satan would try him there and then. But the enemy
of souls was nowhere to be seen in the leafy arches of the wood, and Tom
bent again to take a second draft at the spouting rock lip.

XII

THE IRON IN THE FORGE FIRE

He was bending over the sunken barrel. A shadow, not his own, blurred
the water mirror. He looked up quickly.

"Nan!" he cried.

She was standing on the opposite side of the barrel basin, looking down
on him with good-natured mockery in the dark eyes.

"I 'lowed maybe you wouldn't have such a back load of religion after
you'd been off to the school a spell," she said pointedly. And then:
"Does it always make you right dry an' thirsty to say your prayers,
Tommy-Jeffy?"