d night without sleep, for we sat burning candles in Mr.
Wright's house until the dawn, making up the time which we had lost away
from each other.

CHAPTER VII

I MEET A HERO

When left to myself, I was wont to slide into the commonplace; and where
my own dull life intrudes to clog the action I cut it down here and pare
it away there until I am merely explanatory, and not too much in
evidence. I rode out the Wilderness Trail, fell in with other
travellers, was welcomed by certain old familiar faces at Harrodstown,
and pressed on. I have a vivid recollection of a beloved, vigorous
figure swooping out of a cabin door and scattering a brood of children
right and left. "Polly Ann!" I said, and she halted, trembling.

"Tom," she cried, "Tom, it's Davy come back," and Tom himself flew out of
the door, ramrod in one hand and rifle in the other. Never shall I
forget them as they stood there, he grinning with sheer joy as of yore,
and she, with her hair flying and her blue gown snapping in the wind, in
a tremor between tears and laughter. I leaped to the ground, and she
hugged me in her arms as though I had been a child, calling my name again
and again, and little Tom pulling at the skirts of my coat. I caught the
youngster by the collar.

"Polly Ann," said I, "he's grown to what I was when you picked me up, a
foundling."

"And now it's little Davy no more," she answered, swept me a courtesy,
and added, with a little quiver in her voice, "ye are a gentleman now."

"My heart is still where it was," said I.

"Ay, ay," said Tom, "I'm sure o' that, Davy."

I was with them a fortnight in the familiar cabin, and then I took up my
journey northward, heavy at leaving again, but promising to see them from
time to time. For Tom was often at the Falls when he went a-scouting
into the Illinois country. It was, as of old, Polly Ann who ran the mill
and was the real bread-winner of the family.

Louisville was even then bursting with importance, and as I rode into it,
one bright November day, I remembered the wilderness I had seen here not
ten years gone when I had marched hither with Captain Harrod's company to
join Clark on the island. It was even then a thriving little town of log
and clapboard houses and schools and churches, and wise men were saying
of it--what Colonel Clark had long ago predicted--that it would become
the first city of commercial importance in the district of Kentucky.

I do not mean to give you an accou