The Boy saw again the impassioned face of the orator telling the glories of his country, and his heart swelled with pride. They left the river and plunged into the trackless forest. No roads had yet scarred its virgin soil. Only the blazed trail for the first ten miles--the trail Tom had marked with his own hatchet--and then the magnificent woods without a mark. Five miles further they penetrated, cutting down the brush and trees to make way for the wagon. They stopped at last on a beautiful densely wooded hill near a stream of limpid water. A rough camp was quickly built Indian fashion and covered with bear skins. The next day the father put into the Boy's hand the new axe he had bought for him. "You're not quite eight years old, Boy," he said, encouragingly, "but you're big as a twelve-year-old an' you're spunky. Do you think you can swing an axe that's a man's size?" "Yes," was the sturdy answer. And from that day he did it with a song on his lips no matter how heavy the heart that beat in his little breast. At first they cut the small poles and built a half-faced camp, and made it strong enough to stand the storms of winter in case a cabin could not be finished before spring. This half-faced camp was made of small logs built on three sides, with the fourth open to the south. In front of this opening the log fire was built and its flame never died day or night. To the soul of the Boy this half-faced camp with its blazing logs in the shadow of giant trees was the most wonderful dwelling he had ever seen. The stars that twinkled in the sky beyond the lacing boughs were set in his ceiling. No king in his palace could ask for more. But into the young mother's heart slowly crept the first shadows of a nameless dread. Fifteen miles from a human habitation in the depths of an unmarked wilderness with only a hunter's camp for her home, and she had dreamed of schools! To her children her face always gave good cheer. But at night she lay awake for long, pitiful hours watching the stars and fighting the battle alone with despair. Yet there was never a thought of surrender. God lived and her faith was in Him. The same stars were shining above that sparkled in old Virginia and Kentucky. Something within sang for joy at the sight of her Boy--strong of limb and dauntless of soul. He was God's answer to her cry, and always she went the even tenor of her way singing softly that he might hear. His father set him to the task of clearing the first acre of ground for the crop next spring. It seemed a joke to send a child with an axe into that huge forest and tell him to clear the way for civilization. And yet he went with firm, eager steps. He chose the biggest tree in sight for his first task--a giant oak three feet in diameter, its straight trunk rising a hundred feet without a limb or knot to mar its perfect beauty.