No stranger could guess how great a victory over his own selfish desires the boy had won when he raised his face to his father's and said, "I think, pa, that you should take this new rifle for your own gun and give me the old flintlock."
Doby's father was of upright stuff himself; and he now saw that his son, also, had the making of a just man in him. So he looked at Doby kindly, and the two understood each other perfectly. But all the father said was: "I've had my old flintlock ever since I was your age. I use it every day. I couldn't learn the tricks of one of these newfangled rifles. No, Doby, you can't swap firearms with your pa!"
XIV
THE BEAVERS' DAM
A Patriot's Sacrifice
HE stood upon a bluff overlooking the Wabash. Outlined against an autumn sunset, his noble figure dominated the landscape.
A velvet cap with a jaunty plume rested lightly upon his short, snow-white, curling hair.
Velvet also were his coat and breeches and the sweeping cavalier cape that clasped on his shoulder. Silken hose and fine linen added to the magnificence of his costume.
It was of a style long gone by, even then, but its sumptuous fashion became him and set off his sturdy old age to its best advantage.