And then the first bitter pang of homesickness came. He wondered if his sweet mother were well. He wondered what she said when they told her he had gone. He knew she had cried. What if she were dead and he could never see her again? He sat down on a log, buried his face in his hands and tried to cry the ache out of his heart. He felt that he must turn back or die. But it wouldn't do. He had promised his Big Brother. He rose, brushed the tears away, fed and watered his pony and tenderly rubbed down every inch of his beautiful black skin. He forgot the ache in his new-found love and the strength which had come into his boy's soul from the sense of kinship with Nature which this beautiful dumb four-footed friend had brought him. No man could be friendless or forsaken who possessed the love of a horse. His horse knew and loved him. He said it in a hundred ways. His wide, deep, lustrous eyes, shining with intelligence, had told him! So had the touch of his big warm mouth in many a friendly pony kiss. His pony could laugh, too. He had seen the smiles flicker about his mouth and eyes as he pretended to bite his bare legs. How could any human being be cruel or mean to a horse! His pony had given him new courage and conscious power. He was the master of Nature now when they flew along the trail through the deep woods. His horse had given him wings. He looked up into the star-sown sky, and promised God to be kind and gentle to all the dumb world for the love of the beautiful friend He had given. III THE HERMITAGE At the last stand on the banks of the winding Tennessee, the Major sat up late in eager discussion about Old Hickory with an enthusiastic Tennesseean. The ladies had retired, and the Boy listened with quiet eagerness to the talk. "Waal, we're goin' ter make Andrew Jackson President anyhow, Major!" the Tennesseean drawled. "I'm afraid they'll beat us," the Major answered, with a shake of his head. "How'll they beat us when we git ready ter make the fight?" "Old Hickory says himself, he ain't fit--" "I reckon we know more about that than he does," persisted the man from Tennessee. "The aristocrats don't think so--" "What t'ell they got agin him? Ain't he the biggest man in this country to-day? Didn't he lick Spain and England both at Pensacola and didn't he finish the Red Coats at New Orleans--" "They say his education's poor--" "He knowed enough to make this country cock o' the walk--what more do they want--damn 'em!" "They say he swears--" The Tennesseean roared: "Waal, if all the cussin' men vote fur him--he'll sho be elected!" "The real trouble--" the Major said thoughtfully, "is what the scandal-mongers keep saying about his wife--" "He's killed one son-of-a-gun about that already, an' they better let him alone--" "That's just it, my friend: he killed that skunk in a duel and it's not the only one he has fought either. Old Hickory's got the temper of the devil."