Now out of the silence of the rainy September night and out of the thoughtfulness of the fire, the imperious splendid dark glowing young animal steaming in his boots and flannel suddenly looked across and spoke:-- "If I am ever going to do anything, it is about time I began." The philosopher on the other side of the fire grew wary; he had given the blood time, and now the blood was mounting to the brain. "It is time, if you think it is time." "One thing I am not going to do," said the arbiter of his fate, as if he were drawing a surprise from the depths of his nature and were offering it to his uncle; if possible, without discourtesy, but certainly without discussion--"one thing I am not going to do; I am not going to breed horses." The fire crackled, and no other sound disturbed the stillness. "Some one else will breed them," replied the vicar of the stables, with quietness: the sun always seemed to remain on his face after it had gone down. "They will be bred by some one else. The breeding of horses in the world will not be stopped because some one does not wish to breed them. It will come to the same thing in the end. Even if it does not come to the same thing, it will come to something different. No matter, either way." The young hunter had unbuttoned one of his shirt sleeves and bared his arm above the elbow; and he now stroked his forearm as he bent it backward over the biceps and suddenly struck out at the air as though he would knock the head off of an idea. "My notion is this: I don't want to stand still and let my horse do the running. If I have a horse, I want it to stand still and let me do the running. If there is any excitement for either of us, I want the excitement. I don't care _to own_ an animal that wins a race: I want _to be_ the animal that wins a race." "Then be the animal that wins the race! The horse will win his races: he will take care of himself: win your race." "I intend to win my race." There was silence for a while. "As it is not to be horses, then, I have been thinking of other things I might do." "Keep on thinking." "You might help me to think." "I am ready to think with you; you can only think for yourself." "What about going into the army?" "You just said you wanted excitement. There is no excitement in the army unless there is war. We have just passed through one war, and I don't think either of us will live to see another. Still, if you wish, I can get you to West Point. Or, if you prefer the navy, I can get you to Annapolis." "No Annapolis for me! I wouldn't live on anything that I couldn't walk about on and sit down on and roll over on. No water for me. I'll take land all round me in every direction. I guess I'll leave the sea to the Apostle Peter. Life on land and death on land for me. Hard showers and streams and ponds and springs--that will do for water. No Annapolis, thank you!" "West Point, then." "If I went into the army, wouldn't I have to leave the farm here?"