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" said Uncle Dick, after a time. "I doubt if we could do it all the way by boat by September. But I'll see your teacher, here in St. Louis, where we're all going to winter this year, and arrange with him to let you study outside for the first few weeks of the fall term in case we don't get back. You'll have to work while you travel, understand that."

The boys all agreed to this and gave their promise to do their best, if only they could be allowed to make this wonderful trip over the first and greatest exploring trail of the West.

"It can perhaps be arranged," said Uncle Dick.

"You mean, it has been arranged!" said Rob. "You've spoken to our school principal!"

"Well, yes, then! And you can cut off a little from the spring term, too. But it's all on condition that you come back also with a knowledge of that much history, additional to your regular studies."

"Oh, agreed to that!" said Rob; while John and Jesse began to drop their books and eagerly come closer to their older gu

tle court the country came creeping close up to thetown. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time randown to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with theirhedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could becalled which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to gofar outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, orto lose a purse.

It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morningenacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not toostrong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's itcast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Itsrays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who werelying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have beenthe conclusions of the sun could it ha

d bolder Europeans; and they moved westward, norcould have helped that had they tried. They lived largely andblithely, and died handsomely, those old Elizabethan adventurers,and they lie today in thousands of unrecorded graves upon twocontinents, each having found out that any place is good enoughfor a man to die upon, provided that he be a man.

The American frontier was Elizabethan in its quality--childlike,simple, and savage. It has not entirely passed; for bothElizabethan folk and Elizabethan customs are yet to be found inthe United States. While the half-savage civilization of thefarther West was roaring on its way across the continent--whilethe day of the keelboatman and the plainsman, of theIndian-fighter and the miner, even the day of the cowboy, wasdawning and setting--there still was a frontier left far behindin the East, near the top of the mountain range which made thefirst great barrier across our pathway to the West. Thatfrontier, the frontier of Boone and Kenton, of Robertson a

e's a foot high, with white stuff a inch high all over. She'ssoft around the aidge some, for I stuck my finger intoe it just alittle. We just got it recent and we're night-herdin' it where it'scool. Cost a even ten dollars. The old lady said she'd make the priceall right, but Mac and me, we sort of sized up things and allowed we'ddrop about a ten in their recep_ti_cle when we come to pay for thatcake. This family, you see, moved intoe the cabin Hank Fogarty and JimBond left when they went away,--it's right acrost the 'royo from DanAnderson's office, where we're goin' to eat to-morrer.

"Now, how that woman could make a cake like this here in one of themnarrer, upside-down Mexican ovens--no stove at all--no nothing--say,that's some like adoptin' yourself to circumstances, ain't it? Why,man, I'd marry intoe that fam'ly if I didn't do nothing else long as Ilived. They ain't no Mexican money wrong side of the river. Nocounterfeit there regardin' a happy home--cuttin' out the bass voiceand

d Satan offered, I spurred him back from the gate and rode him hard down toward Wallingford. Of course he picked up a stone en route. Two of us held his head while Billings the blacksmith fished out the stone and tapped the shoe nails tight. After that I had time to look around.

As I did so I saw approaching a gentleman who was looking with interest at my mount. He was one of the most striking men I have ever seen, a stranger as I could see, for I knew each family on both sides the Blue Ridge as far up the valley as White Sulphur.

"A grand animal you have there, sir," said he, accosting Me. "I did not know his like existed in this country."

"As well in this as in any country," said I tartly. He smiled at this.

"You know his breeding?"

"Klingwalla out of Bonnie Waters."

"No wonder he's vicious," said the stranger, calmly.

"Ah, you know something of the English strains," said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "As much as that," he commented indifferently.

Ther

; and the boat's going to start inside of an hour, and we're going to start with her!"

Sure enough, when at last the heavy boom of the Yucatan's warning whistle caused the window glass along the main street to tremble, a little party once more wended its way down the sidewalk toward the wharf. Uncle Dick led the way, earnestly talking with three very grave and anxious mothers. Behind him, perfectly happy, and shouting excitedly to one another, came Rob, Jesse, and John. Each carried a rifle in its case, and each looked excitedly now and then at the wagon which was carrying their bundles of luggage to the wharf.

"All aboard!" called the mate at the head of the gang-plank, laying hold of the side lines and waiting to pull it in. Again came the heavy whistle of the ocean steamer. The little group now broke apart; and in a moment the boys, somewhat sobered now, were waving their farewells to the mothers, who stood, anxious and tearful, on the dock.

"Cast off, there!" came the hoarse

e than any other of the owner's treasures. It was, curiously enough, to this little heap of literature that Wid Gardner presently turned.

Forgetful of the hour and of his waiting cows, he sat down, a copy in his hands, his face taking on a new sort of light as he read. At times, as lone men will, he broke out into audible soliloquy. Now and again his hand slapped his knee, his eye kindled, he grinned. The pages were ill-printed, showing many paragraphs, apparently of advertising nature, in fine type, sometimes marked with display lines.

Wid turned page after page, grunting as he did so, until at last he tossed the magazine upon the top of the box and so went about his evening chores. Thus the title of the publication was left showing to any observer. The headline was done in large black letters, advising all who might have read that this was a copy of the magazine known as Hearts Aflame.

Curiously enough, on the front page the headline of a certain advertisement showed plainly. I

ew faces, many faces, long rows of faces, some pale, some red, some laughing, some horrified, some shouting, some swearing--a long row of faces that swept through the smoke, following a line of steel--a line of steel that flickered, waved, and dipped.

CHAPTER III

THE VICTORY

The bandmaster marshalled his music at the head of the column of occupation which was to march into Louisburg. The game had been admirably played. The victory was complete. There was no need to occupy the trenches, for those who lay in them or near them would never rally for another battle. The troops fell back behind the wood through which they had advanced on the preceding day. They were to form upon the road which had been the key of the advance, and then to march, horse and foot in column, into Louisburg, the place of honour at the head being given to those who had made the final charge to the last trench and through the abattis. Gorged with what it had eaten, the dusty serpent was now

r might have classed above herparents. They, moving from Kentucky into Indiana, from Indiana intoIllinois, and now on to Oregon, never in all their toiling days hadforgotten their reverence for the gentlemen and ladies who once weretheir ancestors east of the Blue Ridge. They valued education--felt thatit belonged to them, at least through their children.

Education, betterment, progress, advance--those things perhaps lay inthe vague ambitions of twice two hundred men who now lay in camp at theborder of our unknown empire. They were all Americans--second, third,fourth generation Americans. Wild, uncouth, rude, unlettered, many ormost of them, none the less there stood among them now and again sometall flower of that culture for which they ever hungered; for whichthey fought; for which they now adventured yet again.

Surely American also were these two young men whose eyes nowunconsciously followed Molly Wingate in hot craving even of a morningthus far breakfastless, for the young leader had o

s life. He might go on now and become a bad man, or he might cheapen and become an imitation desperado. In either event, his third man left him still more confident. His courage and his skill in weapons gave him assuredness and ease at the time of an encounter. He was now becoming a specialist. Time did the rest, until at length they buried him.

The bad man of genuine sort rarely looked the part assigned to him in the popular imagination. The long-haired blusterer, adorned with a dialect that never was spoken, serves very well in fiction about the West, but that is not the real thing. The most dangerous man was apt to be quiet and smooth-spoken. When an antagonist blustered and threatened, the most dangerous man only felt rising in his own soul, keen and stern, that strange exultation which often comes with combat for the man naturally brave. A Western officer of established reputation once said to me, while speaking of a recent personal difficulty into which he had been forced: "I hadn't been in anyth

" said Uncle Dick, after a time. "I doubt if we could do it all the way by boat by September. But I'll see your teacher, here in St. Louis, where we're all going to winter this year, and arrange with him to let you study outside for the first few weeks of the fall term in case we don't get back. You'll have to work while you travel, understand that."

The boys all agreed to this and gave their promise to do their best, if only they could be allowed to make this wonderful trip over the first and greatest exploring trail of the West.

"It can perhaps be arranged," said Uncle Dick.

"You mean, it has been arranged!" said Rob. "You've spoken to our school principal!"

"Well, yes, then! And you can cut off a little from the spring term, too. But it's all on condition that you come back also with a knowledge of that much history, additional to your regular studies."

"Oh, agreed to that!" said Rob; while John and Jesse began to drop their books and eagerly come closer to their older gu

tle court the country came creeping close up to thetown. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time randown to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with theirhedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could becalled which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to gofar outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, orto lose a purse.

It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morningenacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not toostrong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's itcast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Itsrays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who werelying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have beenthe conclusions of the sun could it ha

d bolder Europeans; and they moved westward, norcould have helped that had they tried. They lived largely andblithely, and died handsomely, those old Elizabethan adventurers,and they lie today in thousands of unrecorded graves upon twocontinents, each having found out that any place is good enoughfor a man to die upon, provided that he be a man.

The American frontier was Elizabethan in its quality--childlike,simple, and savage. It has not entirely passed; for bothElizabethan folk and Elizabethan customs are yet to be found inthe United States. While the half-savage civilization of thefarther West was roaring on its way across the continent--whilethe day of the keelboatman and the plainsman, of theIndian-fighter and the miner, even the day of the cowboy, wasdawning and setting--there still was a frontier left far behindin the East, near the top of the mountain range which made thefirst great barrier across our pathway to the West. Thatfrontier, the frontier of Boone and Kenton, of Robertson a

e's a foot high, with white stuff a inch high all over. She'ssoft around the aidge some, for I stuck my finger intoe it just alittle. We just got it recent and we're night-herdin' it where it'scool. Cost a even ten dollars. The old lady said she'd make the priceall right, but Mac and me, we sort of sized up things and allowed we'ddrop about a ten in their recep_ti_cle when we come to pay for thatcake. This family, you see, moved intoe the cabin Hank Fogarty and JimBond left when they went away,--it's right acrost the 'royo from DanAnderson's office, where we're goin' to eat to-morrer.

"Now, how that woman could make a cake like this here in one of themnarrer, upside-down Mexican ovens--no stove at all--no nothing--say,that's some like adoptin' yourself to circumstances, ain't it? Why,man, I'd marry intoe that fam'ly if I didn't do nothing else long as Ilived. They ain't no Mexican money wrong side of the river. Nocounterfeit there regardin' a happy home--cuttin' out the bass voiceand

d Satan offered, I spurred him back from the gate and rode him hard down toward Wallingford. Of course he picked up a stone en route. Two of us held his head while Billings the blacksmith fished out the stone and tapped the shoe nails tight. After that I had time to look around.

As I did so I saw approaching a gentleman who was looking with interest at my mount. He was one of the most striking men I have ever seen, a stranger as I could see, for I knew each family on both sides the Blue Ridge as far up the valley as White Sulphur.

"A grand animal you have there, sir," said he, accosting Me. "I did not know his like existed in this country."

"As well in this as in any country," said I tartly. He smiled at this.

"You know his breeding?"

"Klingwalla out of Bonnie Waters."

"No wonder he's vicious," said the stranger, calmly.

"Ah, you know something of the English strains," said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "As much as that," he commented indifferently.

Ther

; and the boat's going to start inside of an hour, and we're going to start with her!"

Sure enough, when at last the heavy boom of the Yucatan's warning whistle caused the window glass along the main street to tremble, a little party once more wended its way down the sidewalk toward the wharf. Uncle Dick led the way, earnestly talking with three very grave and anxious mothers. Behind him, perfectly happy, and shouting excitedly to one another, came Rob, Jesse, and John. Each carried a rifle in its case, and each looked excitedly now and then at the wagon which was carrying their bundles of luggage to the wharf.

"All aboard!" called the mate at the head of the gang-plank, laying hold of the side lines and waiting to pull it in. Again came the heavy whistle of the ocean steamer. The little group now broke apart; and in a moment the boys, somewhat sobered now, were waving their farewells to the mothers, who stood, anxious and tearful, on the dock.

"Cast off, there!" came the hoarse

e than any other of the owner's treasures. It was, curiously enough, to this little heap of literature that Wid Gardner presently turned.

Forgetful of the hour and of his waiting cows, he sat down, a copy in his hands, his face taking on a new sort of light as he read. At times, as lone men will, he broke out into audible soliloquy. Now and again his hand slapped his knee, his eye kindled, he grinned. The pages were ill-printed, showing many paragraphs, apparently of advertising nature, in fine type, sometimes marked with display lines.

Wid turned page after page, grunting as he did so, until at last he tossed the magazine upon the top of the box and so went about his evening chores. Thus the title of the publication was left showing to any observer. The headline was done in large black letters, advising all who might have read that this was a copy of the magazine known as Hearts Aflame.

Curiously enough, on the front page the headline of a certain advertisement showed plainly. I

ew faces, many faces, long rows of faces, some pale, some red, some laughing, some horrified, some shouting, some swearing--a long row of faces that swept through the smoke, following a line of steel--a line of steel that flickered, waved, and dipped.

CHAPTER III

THE VICTORY

The bandmaster marshalled his music at the head of the column of occupation which was to march into Louisburg. The game had been admirably played. The victory was complete. There was no need to occupy the trenches, for those who lay in them or near them would never rally for another battle. The troops fell back behind the wood through which they had advanced on the preceding day. They were to form upon the road which had been the key of the advance, and then to march, horse and foot in column, into Louisburg, the place of honour at the head being given to those who had made the final charge to the last trench and through the abattis. Gorged with what it had eaten, the dusty serpent was now

r might have classed above herparents. They, moving from Kentucky into Indiana, from Indiana intoIllinois, and now on to Oregon, never in all their toiling days hadforgotten their reverence for the gentlemen and ladies who once weretheir ancestors east of the Blue Ridge. They valued education--felt thatit belonged to them, at least through their children.

Education, betterment, progress, advance--those things perhaps lay inthe vague ambitions of twice two hundred men who now lay in camp at theborder of our unknown empire. They were all Americans--second, third,fourth generation Americans. Wild, uncouth, rude, unlettered, many ormost of them, none the less there stood among them now and again sometall flower of that culture for which they ever hungered; for whichthey fought; for which they now adventured yet again.

Surely American also were these two young men whose eyes nowunconsciously followed Molly Wingate in hot craving even of a morningthus far breakfastless, for the young leader had o

s life. He might go on now and become a bad man, or he might cheapen and become an imitation desperado. In either event, his third man left him still more confident. His courage and his skill in weapons gave him assuredness and ease at the time of an encounter. He was now becoming a specialist. Time did the rest, until at length they buried him.

The bad man of genuine sort rarely looked the part assigned to him in the popular imagination. The long-haired blusterer, adorned with a dialect that never was spoken, serves very well in fiction about the West, but that is not the real thing. The most dangerous man was apt to be quiet and smooth-spoken. When an antagonist blustered and threatened, the most dangerous man only felt rising in his own soul, keen and stern, that strange exultation which often comes with combat for the man naturally brave. A Western officer of established reputation once said to me, while speaking of a recent personal difficulty into which he had been forced: "I hadn't been in anyth