There was one professor who put his decision of obedience to the supreme test. For some reason this particular instructor took a violent dislike to the tall, dignified young Southerner. Perhaps because he was more anxious to have the love of his cadet friends than the approval of his teachers. Perhaps from some hidden spring of character within the teacher which antagonized the firm will and strong personality of the student who dared to do his own thinking. From whatever cause, it was plain to all that the professor sought opportunities to insult and browbeat the cadet he could not provoke into open rebellion. The professor was lecturing the class on presence of mind as the supreme requisite of a successful soldier. He paused, and looked directly at his young enemy: "Of course, there are some who will always be confused and wanting in an emergency--not from cowardice, but from the mediocre nature of their minds." The insult was direct and intended. He hoped to provoke an outburst which would bring punishment, if not disgrace. The cadet's lips merely tightened and the steel from the depths of his blue eyes flashed into his enemy's for a moment. He would bide his time. Three days later, in a building crowded with students, the professor was teaching the class the process of making fire-balls. The room was a storehouse of explosives and the ball suddenly burst into flames. Cadet Davis saw it first and calmly turned to his tormentor: "The fire-ball has ignited, sir,--what shall I do?" The professor dashed for the door: "Run! Run for your lives!" The cadet snatched the fire-ball from the floor, dashed it through the window and calmly walked out. He had saved many lives and the building from destruction. His revenge was complete and sweet. But deeper and sweeter than his triumph over an enemy was the consciousness that he was master of himself. He had learned life's profoundest lesson. VII LIFE On his graduation, the Second Lieutenant of Infantry, from the State of Mississippi, barely twenty years old, reported for duty to the Jefferson Barracks at St. Louis. He was ordered to the frontier to extend the boundaries of the growing Republic--now accompanied by his faithful body servant, James Pemberton. The Fort, situated on the Wisconsin River, was the northern limit of the Illinois tribe of Indians, and the starting point of all raids against the Iroquois who still held the rich lands around the village of Chicago. The Boy Lieutenant was the first lumberman to put axe into the virgin forests of Wisconsin. He was sent into the wilderness with a detachment for cutting timber to enlarge the Fort. Under the direction of two voyageurs he embarked in a little open boat and began the perilous journey. The first day out his courage and presence of mind were put to quick test.