ength, when he was quite
sure of his voice, "that you had Fido with you."

"Yes, indeed, father," said Hughie. "It was Fido saved me."

"It was the Lord's goodness," said the minister, solemnly.

"And a great mercy," said Long John, "that your lad kept his head and
showed such courage. You have reason to be proud of him."

The minister said nothing just then, but at home, when recounting the
exploit to the mother, he could hardly contain his pride in his son.

"Never thought the boy would have a nerve like that, he's so excitable.
I had rather he killed that bear than win a medal at the university."

The mother sat silent through all the story, her cheek growing more and
more pale, but not a word did she say until the tale was done, and then
she said, "'Who delivereth thee from destruction.'"

"A little like David, mother, wasn't it?" said Hughie; but though there
was a smile on his face, his manner and tone were earnest enough.

"Yes," said his mother, "a good deal like David, for it was the same God
that delivered you both."

"Rather hard to cut Fido out of his share of the glory," said Mr.
Craven, "not to speak of a cool head and a steady nerve."

Mrs. Murray regarded him for a moment or two in silence, as if
meditating an answer, but finally she only said, "We shall cut no one
out of the glory due to him."

At the supper-table the whole affair was discussed in all its bearings.
In this discussion Hughie took little part, making light of his exploit,
and giving most of the credit to Fido, and the mother wondered at the
unusual reserve and gravity that had fallen upon her boy. Indeed, Hughie
was wondering at himself. He had a strange new feeling in his heart.
He had done a man's deed, and for the first time in his life he felt it
unnecessary to glory in his deeds. He had come to a new experience, that
great deeds need no voice to proclaim them. During the thrilling moments
of that terrible hour he had entered the borderland of manhood, and the
awe of that new world was now upon his spirit.

It was chiefly this new experience of his that was sobering him, but it
helped him not a little to check his wonted boyish exuberance that
at the table opposite him sat a strange young man, across whose dark,
magnetic face there flitted, now and then, a lazy, cynical smile.
Hughie feared that lazy smile, and he felt that it would shrivel into
self-contempt any feeling of boastfulness.

The mother and Hughie said littl