The creek down thar's laughin' an' singing' winter
an' summer. The world's too purty an' life's too short ter throw hit
away fightin' an' scramblin' fur nothin'."
"For something--Tom--something big----"
"Don't keer how big 'tis--what of it? All turns ter ashes in yer hands
bye an' bye an' yer life's gone. We can't live these young days over
again, can we? Ye know the preacher says: 'What shall hit profit a man
ef he gain the whole world an' lose his life?' Let me off'n these
lessons, Honey? I'm too old; ye can't larn me new tricks now. Let me off
fer good an' all, won't ye?"
"No," was the firm answer. "It means too much. I won't give up and let
the man I love sign his name forever with a cross mark."
"I ain't goin' ter sign no more papers nohow!" Tom broke in.
"I signed our marriage bond with a mark, Tom," she went on evenly, "just
because you couldn't write your name. You've got to learn, I won't give
up!"
"Well, it's too late to-night fur any more lessons, now _ain't_ it?"
"Yes, we'll make up for it next time."
The tired hunter was soon sound asleep dreaming of the life that was the
breath of his nostrils.
Through the still winter's night the young wife lay with wide staring
eyes. Over and over again she weighed her chances in the grim struggle
begun for the mastery of his mind.
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