Yankee in him made him believe he could find work for the other horse.
As the boy turned into Main Street waving his mother good-by, he saw
the places where he and Ellen Culpepper had stopped the night before,
and they looked different some way, and he could not realize that he
was in the same street.

As he climbed the hill, he passed General Ward, working in his flower
garden, and the man sprang over the fence and came into the road, and
put his hand on the horse's bridle, saying, "Stop a minute, John: I
just wanted to say something." He hesitated a moment before going on:
"You know back where I came from--back in New England--the name of
John Barclay stands for a good deal--more than you can realize, John.
Your father was one of the first martyrs of our cause. I guess your
mother never has told you, but I'm going to--your father gave up a
business career for this cause. His father was rich--very rich, and
your grandfather was set on your father going into business." John
looked up the hill toward the Hendricks home, and Ward saw it, and
mistook the glance for one of impatience. "Johnnie," said the man, his
fine thin, features glowing with earnestness, "Johnnie--I wish I
could get to your heart, boy. I want to make you hear what I have to
say with your soul and not with your ears, and I know youth is so
deaf. Your grandfather was angry when your father entered the ministry
and came out here. He thought it was folly. The old man offered to
give fifty thousand dollars to the Kansas-Nebraska cause, and that
would have sent a good many men out here. But your father said no. He
said money wouldn't win this cause. He said personal sacrifice was all
that would win it. He said men must give up themselves, not their
money, to make this cause win--and so he came; and there was a
terrible quarrel, and that is why your mother has stayed. She had
faith in God, too--faith that her life some way in His Providence