all happened on
the blackest day of my life--the hard life of a lonely boy on a Kansas
claim. That's why I never speak of it and try always to forget it. I
found him by mere accident, helpless and in awful danger. He was about
two years old then and all he could say was 'bad man' and his name, 'Bug
Buler.' I've wondered if Bug is his name, or if he could not speak his
real name plainly then."

Burleigh paused, and a sense of Elinor's interest brought a thrill of
joy to him.

"Where was he?" she asked.

Vic slowly unfastened his cuff and slipped his coat sleeve up to his
elbow.

"Do you remember that scar?" he asked. "It is not the only one I have.
I fought with death for that baby boy and I shall always carry the scars
of that day. Bug was alone in a lonely little deserted dugout. Somebody
had left him there to perish. He was on a low chair, the only furniture
in the room, and on the earth floor between him and me were five of the
ugliest rattlesnakes that ever coiled for a deadly blow. Little Bug held
out his arms to me, and I'll never forget his baby face--and--I killed
them all and carried him away. It was a dangerous, hard job, but the boy
I saved has been the blessing of my life ever since. I could not have
endured the days that followed without his need for care and his love
and innocence. He's kept me good, Elinor. When I got back home with
him my mother, who had been very sick, was dead, and our house had been
robbed of every valuable by some thief--a wayside tragedy of western
Kansas. That was the day the pitcher was stolen. A note was left warning
me not to follow nor try to find out who had done the stealing, but I
thought I knew anyhow. That's why I killed that bull snake the first day
I came to Sunrise and that's why I must have looked like a bulldog to
you, soft-sheltered Cambridge folks. Life has been mostly a fist fight
for me, but Dr. Fenneben has taught me that there are other powers
beside physical strength. That the knock-down game doesn't bring the
real victory always. I hope I've learned a little here."

A little! Could this be the big awkward freshman of a September day gone
by? Then college culture is surely worth the cost.

Elinor leaned forward, eagerly.

"Tell me about your father," she said.

"My father lost his life because he dared to tell the truth," Victor
replied.

"Oh, glorious!" Elinor cried, earnestly.

"I have always loved my father's memory for his courage," Victor
con