re, in those days, was full of pride and satisfaction, he
rejoiced in the industrial prowess of his son, and he felt that his own
influence had prevailed, he had led Henry back to the ways of
civilization, the only right ways, and he enjoyed his triumph. But the
schoolmaster, in secret, often shook his head.

The summer grew drier and hotter, it was a period of drought again and
the little children gasped through the sweating nights. Afar they saw
the blaze of forest fires and ashes and smoke came on the wind. Henry
toiled with a dogged spirit, but every day the labor grew more bitter to
him; he took no interest in it, he did not wish to calculate the result
in the years to come, when all around him, extending thousands of miles,
was an untrodden wilderness, in which he might roam and hunt until the
end, although his years should be a hundred.

It was worst at night, when he lay awake by a window, breathing the hot
air, then the deep cool forest extended to him her kindest invitation,
and it took all his resolution to resist her welcome. The wind among the
trees was like music, but it was a music to which he must close his
ears. Then he remembered his vast wanderings with Black Cloud and his
red friends, how they had crossed great and unnamed rivers, the days in
the endless forest and the other days on the endless plains, and of the
mighty lake they had reached in their northernmost journey--how cool and
pleasant that lake seemed now! His mind ran over every detail of the
great buffalo hunts, of those trips along the streams to trap the beaver
and the events in the fight with the hostile tribe.

All these recollections seemed very vivid and real to him now, and the
narrow life of Wareville faded into a mist out of which shone only the
faces of those whom he loved--it was they alone who had brought him back
to Wareville, but he knew that their ways were not his ways, and it was
hard to confine his spirit within the narrow limits of a settlement.

But his long martyrdom went on, the summer was growing old, with the
work of planting and cultivating almost done and the harvest soon to
follow, and whatever his feelings may have been he had never flinched a
single time. Nourished by his great labors the Ware farm far surpassed
all others, and the pride of John Ware grew. He also grew more exacting
with his pride, and this quality brought on the crisis.

Henry was building a fence one particularly hot afternoon, and his
fa