s to make him trace his name in sprawling letters that
resembled writing and painfully spell his way through the simplest
passages in the Bible.

The day she gave up was one of dumb despair. She resolved at last to
live in her boy. All she had hoped and dreamed of life should be his and
he would be hers. Her hands could make him good or bad, brave or
cowardly, noble or ignoble.

He was a remarkable child physically, and grew out of his clothes faster
than she could make them. It was easy to see from his second year that
he would be a man of extraordinary stature. Both mother and father were
above the average height, but he would overtop them both. When he
tumbled over the bear rugs on the cabin floor his father would roar with
laughter:

"For the Lord's sake, Nancy, look at them legs! They're windin' blades.
Ef he ever gits grown, he won't have ter ax fer a blessin', he kin jest
reach up an' hand it down hisself!"

He was four years old when he got the first vision of his mother that
time should never blot out. His father was away on a carpenter job of
four days. Sleeping in the lower bunk in the corner, he waked with a
start to hear the chickens cackling loudly. His mother was quietly
dressing. He leaped to his feet shivering in the dark and whispered:

"What is it, Ma?"

"Something's after the chickens."

"Not a hawk?"

"No, nor an owl, or fox, or weasel--or they'd squall--they're cackling."

The rooster cackled louder than ever and the Boy recognized the voice of
his speckled hen accompanying him. How weird it sounded in the darkness
of the still spring night! The cold chills ran down his back and he
caught his mother's dress as she reached for the rifle that stood beside
her bed.

"You're not goin' out there, Ma?" the Boy protested.

"Yes. It's a dirty thief after our horse."

Her voice was low and steady and her hand was without tremor as she
grasped his.

"Get back in bed. I won't be gone a minute."

She left the cabin and noiselessly walked toward the low shed in which
the horse was stabled.

The Boy was at her heels. She knew and rejoiced in the love that made
him brave for her sake.

She paused a moment, listened, and then lifted her tall, slim form and
advanced steadily. Her bare feet made no noise. The waning moon was
shining with soft radiance. The Boy's heart was in his throat as he
watched her slender neck and head outlined against the sky. Never had he
seen anything so calm and utter