“And, naturally, they’re keen to go!”
“Naturally. What boy wouldn’t be, if he were a real boy and a real American? Our own old, strange, splendid America! What boy wouldn’t?
“Besides,” he added, “I’d like to trace that old trail myself, some day. I’ve always been crazy to.”
“Yes, crazy! Always poring over old maps. Why do we need study the old passes over the Rockies, Richard? There’s not an earthly bit of use in it. All we need know is when the train starts, and you can look on the time card for all the rest. We don’t need geography of that sort now. What we need now is a geography of Europe, so we can see where the battles were fought, and that sort of thing.”
“Yes? Well, that’s what I’m getting at. I’ve just a notion that we’re studying the map of Europe—and Asia—to-day and to-morrow, when we study the old mountain passes of the Rockies, my dear.
“And,” he added, firmly, “my boys shall know them! Because I know that in that way they’ll be studying not only the geography, but the history of all the world! When they come back, maybe they—maybe you—will know why so many boys now are asleep in the Argonne hills and woods in France. Maybe they’ll see the old Lewis and Clark trail extending on out across the Pacific, even.”
“You’re so funny, Richard!”
“Oh, I reckon so, I reckon so! The old Crusaders were funny people, too—marching all the way from England and France, just to take Jerusalem. But look what a walk they had!”