"There you go. 'Deed if I don't leave you if you keep it up. You have four or five good horses, and I'll loan you five hundred dollars with which you may buy a dozen or fifteen more. You may take twenty head of horses on your own account, and should make by the trip fifteen hundred or two thousand dollars, including your wages. Why, Dic, you will be rich. Unless I am mistaken, wealth is greater even than boldness with icy dragonesses." "Not with Rita." "You don't need help of any sort with her," said Billy. "Poor girl, she is winged for all time. You may be bold or humble, rich or poor; it will be all one to her. But you want to get her without a fight. You don't know what a fight with a woman like the Chief Justice means. Carnage and destruction to beat Napoleon. I believe if you had two thousand dollars in gold, there would be no fight. Good sinews of war are great peace-makers." "I know Rita will release me if I insist," said Dic. "I'm sure she will," responded his friend. "I will go," cried Dic, heroically determined to break the tender shackles of Rita's welding. "Now you are a man again," said Billy. "You may cause her to cry a bit, but she'll like you none the less for that. If tears caused women to hate men, there would be a sudden stoppage in population." Billy sat contemplative for a moment with his finger tips together. "Men are brutes"--another pause--"but they salt the earth while women sweeten it. Personally, I would rather sweeten the earth than salt it; but a sweet man is like a pokeberry--sugarish, nauseating and unhealthful. My love for sweetness has made me a failure." "You are not a failure, Billy Little. You are certainly of the salt of the earth," insisted Dic. "A man fails when he does not utilize his capabilities to their limit," said Billy, philosophically. "He is a success when he accomplishes all he can. The measure of the individual is the measure of what should constitute his success. His capabilities may be small or great; if he but use them all, he is a success. A fishing worm may be a great success as a fishing worm, but a total failure as a mule. Bless me, what a sermon I have preached about nothing. I fear I am growing garrulous," and Billy looked into the fire and hummed Maxwelton's braes. That evening Dic went to call on Rita and made no pretence of wishing to see Tom. That worthy young man had served his purpose, and could never again be a factor in Dic's life or courtship. Mrs. Bays received Dic coldly; but Mr. Bays, in a half-timid manner, was very cordial. Dic paid no heed to the coldness, and, after talking on the porch with the family for a few minutes, boldly asked Rita to walk across the yard to the log by the river. Rita gave her mother a frightened glance and hurried away with Dic before Justice could assert itself, and the happy pair sought the beloved sycamore divan by the river bank.