words: _Awarded to William Blake._

"'Tis a medal," explained the Father, "and 'twas awarded to that husband
who would not save himself if he could not save his wife."

"Is--is that my father's picture?" Johnnie asked, under his breath.

"No, lad dear. 'Tis Andrew Carnegie, that--the founder of the Carnegie
Hero Fund. He was a poor boy when he came to America from Scotland. And,
Johnnie, dear, books was what _he_ loved, and when he was a little
telegraph messenger, he'd read when he could, in betwixt scamperin' here
and there with messages. He lived to make a fortune, and much of that
fortune he spent in buildin' libraries for those who can't afford to buy
their own books. And he did manny other things, and one o' 'em was--t'
leave an educational award t' the wee son o' a certain hero I could
name, so that the lad, as soon as he was big enough, could go t' school
and college. Now, who d' ye think I mean?"

Johnnie knew; yet it was all so sudden that he could not wholly realize
it. "Money for school, lad dear," repeated the priest. "It's been
waitin' for ye this long time. But Mr. Tom Barber didn't happen t' know
about it, and we'll not be sayin' a word t' him just yet. No; I'm
thinkin' the news would be the end o' the dear man--so much money in the
family, and him not able t' put his hands on a cent!"

When Father Pat was gone, One-Eye with him, he left behind, not a
sorrowing little boy, who blamed Fate for having robbed him of both
father and mother in one terribly tragic hour, but a boy who was very
proud. There was this about him, too: he did not feel fatherless and
motherless any longer, but as if the priest had, somehow, given him
parents.

"And, oh, wasn't it a beautiful story?" Cis asked, as they put the medal
in a pocket of the new scout coat. (The picture Father Pat had carried
away to have copied.) "Johnnie, I feel as if I'd been to church! It's
like the passing of Arthur--so sad, but so wonderful! Oh, Johnnie Blake,
think of it! You're twelve! and you can go to school! and you're the son
of a hero!"

"Yes," said Johnnie. As he had not done the work which he knew Big Tom
expected of him that Sunday, now he got out the materials for his
violet-making and began busily shaping flowers. "And I'm goin' t' be a
scout right off, too," he reminded. "So I mustn't shirk, 'r they won't
give me a badge!"

CHAPTER XXIX

REVOLT

"'TAKE two cupfuls of milk,'" read Johnnie, who was bent over his newest
p