"Sometimes I think, Roger" (he called me Roger now, for after all I was more like an elder brother than a father to him), "sometimes I think that things are too easy for me; that I ought to be out doing my share in the work of the world."
"Oh, that will come in time. If you think things are too easy, I might manage to make them a little harder."
He laughed affectionately and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Oh, no, you don't, old Dry-as-dust. Not books. That isn't what I meant. I mean life, struggles against odds. I've just been wondering what chance I'd have to get, along by myself, without a lot of people waiting on me."
"I've tried to show you, Jerry. You can go into the woods with a gun and an ax and exist in comfort."
"Yes, but the world isn't all woods; and axes and guns aren't the only weapons."
"But the principle is the same."
He flashed a bright glance at me.
"Flynn told me yesterday that I could make good in the prize ring if I'd let him take me in hand."
(The deuce he had! Flynn would lose his engagement as a boxing teacher if he didn't heed my warnings better.)