ntage. Events slip away from him and leave nothing. His intellect
gets the habit of letting go. It loses its power to seize and hold. His
impressions are like footprints on a beach. They are washed away by the
next tide."

There was much talk at the fireside after dinner, all of which doubtless
had an effect on the fortunes of the good people who sat around it, and
the historian must sort the straws, and with some regret, for bigger
things are drawing near in the current. Samson and Sarah had been telling
of their adventures on the long road.

"We are all movers," said Kelso. "We can not stay where we are for a
single day--not if we are alive. Most of us never reach that eminence
from which we discover the littleness of ourselves and our troubles and
achievements and the immensities of power and wisdom by which we are
surrounded."

At least one of that company was to remember the words in days of
adversity and triumph. Soon after that dinner the memories of the little
community began to register an unusual procession of thrilling facts.

Early in April an Indian scare spread from the capital to the remotest
corners of the state. Black Hawk, with many warriors, had crossed the
Mississippi and was moving toward the Rock River country. Governor
Reynolds called for volunteers to check the invasion.

Abe, whose address to the voters had been printed in the _Sangamon
Journal_, joined a volunteer company and soon became its captain. On the
tenth of April he and Harry Needles left for Richland to go into
training. Samson was eager to go, but could not leave his family.

Bim Kelso rode out into the fields where Harry was at work the day before
he went away.

"This is a great surprise," said Harry. "I don't see you any more except
at a distance."

"I don't see you either."

"I didn't think you wanted to see me."

"You're easily discouraged," she said, looking down with a serious face.

"You made me feel as if I didn't want to live any longer."

"I reckon I'm mean. I made myself feel a million times worse. It's awful
to be such a human as I am. Some days I'm plum scared o' myself."

"I'm going away," the boy said, in a rather mournful tone.

"I hate to have you go. I just love to know you're here, if I don't see
you. Only I wish you was older and knew more."

"Maybe I know more'n you think I do," he answered.

"But you don't know anything about my troubles," said she, with a sigh.

"I don't get the chance."