up. He felt suddenly promoted to the
responsible status of a counsellor. There was now no tremor in his
voice, except the thrill of his young and straightforward courage.

"You say it's not unworthy work, sir. There can't be any question.
You've _got_ to go. If you hesitated, I'd know full well I was spoiling
your life."

Later, side by side, they tramped the muddy turnpikes between the rich
acres of farms where thoroughbreds were foaled and trained.

"I have talked with Colonel Wallifarro," announced the soldier at
length. "Next fall he wants you to come to Louisville and finish reading
law in his office."

But the boy shook his head. Here, confronting a great loneliness, he was
feeling the contrast between the land, whose children called it God's
country, and his own meagre hills, where the creeks bore such names as
Pestilence and Hell-fer-sartain.

"I _couldn't_ go to Louisville, sir. I couldn't pay my board or buy
decent clothes there. I've got that little patch of ground up there and
the cabin on it, though. I'd aimed to go back there--I'll soon be of
age, now--and seek to get elected clerk of the court."

"Why clerk of the court? Why not the legislature?"

The boy grinned.

"The legislature was what I aimed at--until I read the constitution.
About the only job I'm not too young for is the clerkship."

McCalloway nodded.

"I see no reason why you shouldn't make that race, but you'll be a
fitter servant of your people for knowing a bit more of the world. As to
the money, I've arranged that--though you'll have to live frugally.
There will be to your credit, in bank, enough to keep you for a year or
two--and if I shouldn't get back--Colonel Wallifarro has my will. I
want you to live at my house when you're in the mountains--and look
after things--my small personal effects."

But for that plan of financing his future, Boone had a stout refusal,
until the soldier stopped in the road and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I have never had a son," he said simply. "I have always wanted one.
Will you refuse me?"

It was a very painful day for both of them, but when at last Boone stood
under the railroad shed and saw the man who was his idol wave his hat
from the rear platform, he waved his own in return, and smiled the
twisted smile of stiff lips.

On the ninth of February, as the boy glanced at the morning paper before
he started for his first class, he saw headlines that brought a creep to
his scalp, and the h