Mr. Devering looked thoughtful, but said nothing.
Young Dallas went on, "But now, I think I'd like a farm some place where there weren't so many trees, and I'd go after bad bears who kill sheep."
His tone was bold, but his eyes were timid. This was a boy who fought battles in his mind and kept his fists in his pockets.
"My boy," Mr. Devering called out, "time will settle your doubts. I had a young cousin who wasn't sure whether he'd run a candy store or drive a locomotive when he grew up."
"And what did he do?" asked Dallas eagerly.
"Went into a bank, and is vice-president. You see, Sub, when we're young we don't know everything. We just have to wait. Get a good education and when you're fit for your life work it will bob up serenely in front of you."
"When you were a boy did you want to be a settler?" asked Dallas.
"Never—I wanted to practise medicine."
"And did you?"
"No, I took my course in my home University of Toronto and got my degree, but I never practised."