"Came across a queer case today—" Northcote would begin; he always ruminated on these occasions; never preached—"a boy here who struck it fairly rich this summer; and he wants to buy a claim to work next year—a big claim, that will make his pile for life. But his mother, in Nova Scotia, is dying. Her only chance is to get to Florida or some mild climate. To send her there will cost the boy most of his summer's takings. And that means—no claim next year. He's got to choose between his claim and his mother—a nasty situation for an ambitious lad—a nasty situation.
"Well, I converted him to the right way of thinking. Gave him a little sermon on Sacrifice, gilding the pill. This boy is the type which hates anything churchy. So I left out the biggest sacrifice of all. But I told him about Nelson, going back to sea, maimed and dog-tired of it as he was, to blockade Cadiz in his uncomfortable little ships and, eventually, to win Trafalgar. I tried to show him how there's not a really successful business man who hasn't had to make great sacrifices to achieve success. He was interested in learning what our early explorers endured to open up the country. In the end, he realized, I think, that all big things, everything worth while, is won by sacrifice. 'And usually,' I said, 'there comes a time, at least once in every man's life, when he must make one big concrete sacrifice. Sydney made it,' I said, 'when he gave that cup of water to the dying soldier. He wanted that water so badly himself. But he gave it up. Once in every man's life,' I said, 'the time of his great sacrifice comes. Your time has come to you now.'"
"And the boy—?" asked Hector.
"Is sending off the money by tomorrow's mail."
The words stuck in Hector's memory: 'Everything worth while is won by sacrifice.' 'Once in every man's life, the time of his great sacrifice comes.'
Of one thing he was certain: everything he had achieved, thus far, had been won by grim, fierce sacrifice—the sacrifice of self to state. But had the time of his great sacrifice come—or was it still upon the way?
He could not answer that question—yet.
II
In the crisis rapidly approaching, Hector, on whom so much depended, was conscious of great moral support.
First, he saw that the level-headed old-timers were with him. They were not numerous and their influence was small. But individually each man of them was worth any two of the clamourous adventurers among whom discontent was flourishing.