Archibald Munro had a steady purpose in life--to play the man, and to
allow no pain of his--and pain never left him long--to spoil his work,
or to bring a shadow to the life of any other. And though he had his
hard times, no one who could not read the lines about his mouth ever
knew how hard they were.

It was this struggle for self-mastery that made him the man he was, and
taught him the secrets of nobleness that he taught his pupils with their
three "R's"; and this was the best of his work for the Twentieth school.

North and south in front of the school the road ran through the
deep forest of great pines, with underbrush of balsam and spruce and
silver-birch; but from this main road ran little blazed paths that led
to the farm clearings where lay the children's homes. Here and there,
set in their massive frames of dark green forest, lay the little farms,
the tiny fenced fields surrounding the little log houses and barns.
These were the homes of a people simple of heart and manners, but
sturdy, clean living, and clear thinking, with their brittle Highland
courage toughened to endurance by their long fight with the forest, and
with a self-respect born of victory over nature's grimmest of terrors.

A mile straight south of the school stood the manse, which was Hughie's
home; two miles straight west Ranald lived; and Thomas Finch two miles
north; while the other lads ought to have taken some of the little
paths that branched east from the main road. But this evening, with one
accord, the boys chose a path that led from the school-house clearing
straight southwest through the forest.

What a path that was! Beaten smooth with the passing of many bare feet,
it wound through the brush and round the big pines, past the haunts of