When 'Bear Cat' Went Dry. Charles Buck
splendidly rounded chest with a deep draft of the morning air, – air as clean and sparkling as a fine wine, and into his veins stole an ardor like intoxication.
In his eyes kindled again that light, which had made Henderson think of volcanoes lying quiet with immeasurable fires slumbering at their hearts.
Last night the boy had fought out the hardest battle of his life, and to-day he was one who had passed a definite mile-post of progress. This morning, too, a seed had dropped and a new life influence was stirring. It would take storm and stress and seasons to bring it to fulfilment, perhaps. The poplar does not grow from seed to great tree in a day – but, this morning, the seed had begun to swell and quicken.
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