that meant nothing but dreary distances to the scholarly professor of Greek,
and seemed a paradise to the untrained young fellow from the prairies.

"I see my stint of cloth for the day," he murmured.
"A college professor in the making who has much to unlearn;
a crude young giant who is fond of killing things,
and cares for helpless children; and a beautiful, wilful,
characterless girl to be shown into her womanly heritage.
The clay is ready. It is the potter whose hands need skill.
Victor Burleigh! Victor Burleigh! There's my greatest problem
of all three. He has the strength of a Titan in those arms,
and the passion of a tiger behind those innocent yellow eyes.
God keep me on the hilltop nor let my feet once get into the dark
and dangerous ways!"

He looked long at the landscape radiant under the level rays
of splendor streaming from the low afternoon sun.

"I wonder who built that fire, and what that pillar of smoke
meant this afternoon. The mystery of our lives hangs some token
in each day."

The shadows were gathering in the Walnut Valley, the pigeons
about the cottage up the river, were in their cotes now,
the heat of the day was over, and with one more look at the far
peaceful prairies Dr. Lloyd Fenneben closed his study door
and passed out into the cool September air.