"Oh, this one won't be very exciting; maybe in a little room built of logs. But it's the beginning, Boy, of greater things. Just spelling, reading, writing and arithmetic now--but you're starting on the way that leads out of these silent, lonely woods into the big world where great men fight and make history. Your father has never known this way. He's good and kind and gentle and generous, but he's just a child, because he doesn't know. You're going to be a man among men for your mother's sake, aren't you?" She seized his arms and gripped them in her eagerness until he felt the pain. "Won't you, Boy?" she repeated tensely. He looked up steadily and then slowly said: "Yes, I will." She clasped him impulsively in her arms and hurried from the cabin leading the children by the hand. The Boy could feel her slender fingers trembling. When they drew near the cross roads where the little log house had been built, she stopped, nervously fixed their clothes, took off the Boy's cap and brushed his thick black hair. They were the first to arrive, but in a few minutes others came, and by nine o'clock more than thirty scholars were in their seats. The mother's heart sank within her when she met the teacher and heard him talk. It was only too evident that he was poorly equipped for his work. He could barely read and could neither write nor teach arithmetic. The one qualification about which there was absolute certainty, was that he could lick the biggest boy in school whenever the occasion demanded it. He conveyed this interesting bit of information to the assemblage in no uncertain language. The mother could scarcely keep back her tears. By the end of the week it was plain that her children knew as much as their teacher. "What's the use?" Tom asked in disgust. "Hit's a waste o' time an' money. Let 'em quit!" "No, I can't take them out!" was the firm reply. "They may not learn much, but if the school keeps going, don't you see, a better man will come bye and bye, and then it will be worth while." Tom shook his head, but let her have her own way. "Besides," she went on, "he'll learn something being with the other children." "Learn to fight, mebbe," the husband laughed. He did, too, and the way it came about was as big a surprise to the Boy as it was to the youngster he fought. The small bully of the school lived in the same direction as the Boy and Sarah. They frequently walked together for a mile going or coming and grew to know one another well. The Boy disliked this tow-head urchin from the moment they met. But he was quiet, unobtrusive and modest and generally allowed the loud-mouthed one to have his way. The tow-head took the Boy's quiet ways for submission and insisted on patronizing his friend. The Boy good-naturedly submitted when it cost him nothing of self-respect. At the close of school, the tow-head whispered: "Come by the spring with me, I want to show you somethin'!" "No, I don't want to," he replied.