and the rising flames lit the log walls with a faint red glow.

"Are you glad it's a boy, Tom?" Nancy asked as he lay down beside her.
"I am."

"Yes," said Tom, but when she spoke to him again, he did not answer. He
was asleep. She could see his tired face in the firelight. Life had been
hard for Tom; it was hard for most pioneers. She hoped that their
children would have things a little easier. The baby whimpered, and she
held him closer.

Denny's voice piped up: "Cousin Nancy, will Abe ever grow to be as big
as me?"

"Bigger'n you are now," she told him.

"Will he grow as big as Cousin Tom?"

"Bigger'n anybody, maybe."

Nancy looked down at her son, now peacefully asleep. She made a song for
him, a song so soft it was almost a whisper: "Abe--Abe," she crooned.
"Abe Lincoln, you be going to grow--and grow--and grow!"




2

[Illustration]