For a second—stillness; then a stir in the group. Tom Harding came forward, his fine young face quivering with emotion.
"I beg your pardon, George," he said. "I will never make your life hard again!"
"Nor I! Nor I! Nor any of us!"
It came like a shout.
A smile beamed upon the face of little G. W. His simple, strong, sunny nature responded to the honest outburst. He turned to the boys.
"I'se sorry about my skin," he said slowly, "since you-all don't like de color; but I like de—the color of yours, and I'se goin'—going ter learn all that de Colonel wants me ter learn! I'se never going to disappoint de Colonel!"
Professor Catherwood raised his hand. "Three cheers for our hero!" said he.
"I think," he went on, when the hurrahing had died down, "that two hero stories are almost too many for one evening; besides you've got a chance to know a live hero. I am sure no boy of Oakwood will ever again fail to recognize the real article in the hero line, when he sees it. Good-night!"
Since that evening G. W.'s only battles have been with his school-books. And but for the manly help of his honest school-mates, the far-off victory would seem even dimmer than it does to George Washington McKinley Jones.