"Of course I'll stay, and I'll find a way to go to college later on," answered Fred.
When he was twenty-four years old he went to Maryville College in Tennessee. There he had to begin with the small boys in the preparatory department.
"You might just as well give up," said some of his friends. "You are so far behind you can never catch up."
But Fred only laughed. "I'll find a way. When I can't raise beans I always catch rats."
He worked as hard at his lessons as he had on the farm, and played as well as he worked. He was the best man on his football team, and when he graduated he was president of his class.
While he was at school he thought he would like to be a missionary, but he did not wish to be a preacher and he had never heard of a missionary who was not a preacher. At last he settled it this way:
"If God wants me to be a missionary and there is any way I can be a missionary without being a preacher then I'll be one."
A few years later as a steamer neared the west coast of Africa, Fred Hope jumped from one of the berths. He called to his wife to dress as fast as she could so they should not miss the first glimpse of the shore.
He had found a way; he was going to Elat on the west coast of Africa to take charge of the Frank James Industrial School. As he stood on the deck in the gray light of the early morning, he seemed to see John Ludwig Krapf and Robert Moffat and David Livingstone and all the men and women who had found a way to give their lives to Africa, and his heart was glad.
He could see two white dwelling houses surrounded by tall coconut-palms and other tropical plants, beyond the dashing surf at the Batanga landing. How anxious he was to reach them! The travelers were lowered to the small boat in a "Mammy chair," a seat swung by ropes from the deck of the steamer. Then the sturdy black men pulled for the shore, their wet backs gleaming in the sunlight.