“Dad, you say there’s some things bigger’n learnin’, and such, and I reckon this here’s one of them. I don’t care if that little whelp goes to all the schools there is, and gets to be a president or a king; I don’t care if he’s got all the money there is between here and hell; put him out here in the woods, face to face with life where them things don’t count, and what is he? What is he, Dad? He’s nothin’! plumb nothin’!”
The old shepherd waited quietly for the storm to pass. The big fellow would come to himself after a time; until then, words were useless. At last Young Matt spoke in calmer tones; “I run away, Dad. I had to. I was afraid I’d hurt him. Something inside o’ me just fought to get at him, and I couldn’t a held out much longer. I don’t want to hurt nobody, Dad. I reckon it was a seein’ ’em together that did it. It’s a God’s blessin’ I come away when I did; it sure is.” He dropped wearily into his chair again.
Then the teacher spoke, “It is always a God’s blessing, lad, when a man masters the worst of himself. You are a strong man, my boy. You hardly know your strength. But you need always to remember that the stronger the man, the easier it is for him to become a beast. Your manhood depends upon this, and upon nothing else, that you conquer and control the animal side of yourself. It will be a sad moment for you, and for all of us who love you, if you ever forget. Don’t you see, lad, it is this victory only that gives you the right to think of yourself as a man. Mind, I say to think of yourself, as a man. It doesn’t much matter what others think of you. It is what one can honestly think of one’s self that matters.”
So they spent the evening together, and the big mountaineer learned to see still more deeply into the things that had come to the older man in his years of study and painful experience.
When at last Young Matt arose to say good-night, the shepherd tried to persuade him to sleep at the ranch. But he said, no, the folks at home would be looking for him, and he must go. “I’m mighty glad I come, Dad,” he added; “I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for you; go plumb hog wild, and make a fool of myself, I reckon. I don’t know what a lot of us would do, either. Seems like you’re a sort of shepherd to the whole neighborhood. I reckon, though, I’m ’bout the worst in the flock,” he finished with a grim smile.
Mr. Howitt took his hat from the nail. “If you must go, I will walk a little way with you. I love to be out such nights as this. I often wish Pete would take me with him.”
“He’s out somewhere to-night, sure,” replied the other, as they started. “We heard him a singin’ last night.” Then he stopped and asked, “Where’s your gun, Dad? There’s a panther somewhere on this range.”
“I know,” returned the shepherd; “I heard it scream last night; and I meant to go up to the house to-day for a gun. I broke the hammer of mine yesterday.”
“That’s bad,” said Young Matt. “But come on, I’ll leave mine with you until to-morrow. That fellow would sure make things lively, if he should come to see you, and catch you without a shootin’ iron.”
Together the two walked through the timber, until they came to where the trail that leads to the Matthews place begins to climb the low spur of the hill back of the house. Here Mr. Howitt stopped to say good-night, adding, as the young man gave him the rifle, “I don’t like to take this, Grant. What if you should meet that panther between here and home?”