A big Redskin jumped over a
log an' scalped my own daddy before my eyes! He grabbed me an' started
pullin' me ter the woods, an' then, Sonny, somethin' happened----"

Tom looked at the long rifle in its buck's horn rest and smiled:

"Old 'Speakeasy' up thar stretched her long neck through a chink in the
logs an' said somethin' ter Mr. Redskin. She didn't raise her voice much
louder'n a whisper. She jist kinder sighed:

"_Kerpeow!_"

"I kin hear hit echoin' through them woods yit. That Injun drapped my
hands before I heerd the gun, an' she hadn't more'n sung out afore he
wuz lyin' in a heap at my feet. The ball had gone clean through him----"

Tom paused again and looked for a long time in silence into the glowing
coals. The little cabin was very still. The Boy lifted his face to his
mother's curiously:

"Ma, you said God counted the beat of a sparrow's wing?"

"Yes."

"Well, what was He doin' when that Indian scalped my grandpa?"

The mother threw a startled look at the bold little questioner and
answered reverently:

"Keeping watch in Heaven, my Boy. The hairs of your head are numbered
and not one falls without his knowledge. We had to pay the price of
blood for this beautiful country. Nothing is ever worth having that
doesn't cost precious lives."

Again the cabin was still. An owl's deep cry boomed from the woods and a
solitary wolf answered in the distance. The Boy's brow was wrinkled for
a moment and then he suddenly looked up to his father's rugged face:

"And what became of Dan'l Boone?"

"Oh, he lit on his feet all right. He always did. He moved on with
Stuart, built him another camp in the deepest woods he could find and
hunted there all winter--jest think, Boy, all winter--every day--thar
wuz a man that wuz a man shore nuff!"

"Yes, sirree!" the listener agreed.

The mother lifted her head and thoughtfully watched the sparkling eyes.

"And do you want to know why Daniel Boone was great, my son?" she
quietly asked.

"Yes, why?" was the quick response.

"Because he used his mind and his hands, while the other men around him
just used their hands. He learned to read and write when he was a little
boy. He mixed brains with his powder and shot."

"Did he, Pa?" the questioner cried.

The father smiled. He could afford to be generous. The Boy looked to him
as the authority on Daniel Boone.

"Yes, I reckon he did. He wuz smart. I didn't have no chance when I wuz
little."

"Then I'm going t