nder ef hit'd be askin' too master much of
ye ef--" the boy paused, gulped down his embarrassment and continued
hastily--"ef ye could kinderly tell me a few books ter read?"

"Gladly," agreed Henderson. "It's the young men like you who have the
opportunity to make life up here worth living for the rest."

After a moment Bear Cat suggested dubiously: "But amongst my folks I
wouldn't git much thanks fer tryin'. Ther outside world stands fer
interference--an' they won't suffer hit. They believes in holdin' with
their kith an' kin."

Again Henderson nodded, and this time the smile that danced in his eyes
was irresistibly infectious. In a low voice he quoted:

"The men of my own stock
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wonted to,
They are used to the lies I tell.
We do not need interpreters
When we go to buy and sell."

Bear Cat Stacy stood looking off over the mountain sides. He filled his
splendidly rounded chest with a deep draft of the morning air,--air as
clean and sparkling as a fine wine, and into his veins stole an ardor
like intoxication.

In his eyes kindled again that light, which had made Henderson think of
volcanoes lying quiet with immeasurable fires slumbering at their
hearts.

Last night the boy had fought out the hardest battle of his life, and
to-day he was one who had passed a definite mile-post of progress. This
morning, too, a seed had dropped and a new life influence was stirring.
It would take storm and stress and seasons to bring it to fulfilment,
perhaps. The poplar does not grow from seed to great tree in a
day--but, this morning, the seed had begun to swell and quicken.

What broke, like the fledgling of a new conception, in Bear Cat's
heart, was less palpably but none the less certainly abroad in the air,
riding the winds--with varied results.

That an outside voice was speaking: a voice which was dangerous to the
old gods of custom, was the conviction entertained, not with elation
but with somber resentment in the mind of Kinnard Towers. Upon that
realization followed a grim resolve to clip the wings of innovation
while there was yet time. It was no part of this crude dictator's
program to suffer a stranger, with a gift for "glib speech," to curtail
his enjoyment of prerogatives built upon a lifetime of stress and
proven power.

Back of Cedar Mountain, where there are few telephones, news travels on
swift, if unseen wings. Henderson h