not been as hard as a lightwood knot, that fall would have
mashed him up," said the Doctor. This compliment Keith repeated, and it
evidently pleased Dave. The pale face relaxed into a smile. Keith told
him stories of other boys who had had similar accidents and had turned
them to good account--of Arkwright and Sir William Jones and Commodore
Maury, all of whom had laid the foundation for their future fame when
they were in bed with broken legs.

When Keith came away he left the boy comforted and cheered, and even the
dismal woman at the door gave him a more civil parting than her
greeting had been.

Many an afternoon during the boy's convalescence Keith went over the
Ridge to see him, taking him story-books, and reading to him until he
was strong enough to read himself. And when, weeks later, the lame boy
was able to return to school, Keith had no firmer friend in all the
Ridge region than Dave Dennison, and Dave had made a mental progress
which, perhaps, he would not have made in as many months at school, for
he had received an impulse to know and to be something more than he was.
He would show Phrony who he was.

It was fine to Gordon to feel that he was earning his own living. He was
already making his way in the world, and often from this first rung of
the ladder the young teacher looked far up the shining steep to where
Fame and Glory beckoned with their radiant hands. He would be known. He
would build bridges that should eclipse Stevenson's. He would be like
Warren Hastings, and buy back the home of his fathers and be a great
gentleman.

The first pay that he received made him a capitalist. He had no idea
before of the joy of wealth. He paid it to old Rawson.

"There is the first return for your investment," he said.

"I don' know about its bein' the first return," said the squire, slowly;
"but an investment ain't done till it's all returned." His keen eyes
were on Keith's face.

"I know it," said Keith, laughing.

But for Dr. Balsam, Keith sometimes thought that he must have died that
first winter, and, in fact, the young man did owe a great deal to the
tall, slab-sided man, whose clothes hung on him so loosely that he
appeared in the distance hardly more than a rack to support them. As he
came nearer he was a simple old countryman with a deeply graved face and
unkempt air. On nearer view still, you found the deep gray eyes both
shrewd and kindly; the mouth under its gray moustache had fine lines,
and