came to understand. It was that same dominant note in the boy's life,
that inborn passion to serve, that fixed principle in his character that
his life must be of the greatest possible worth to the world, that had
led him to make his choice. With that instinct born in him, coming from
the influence of the old Shepherd upon his father and mother, the boy
could no more escape it than he could change the color of his brown eyes.

"But," said the Doctor to his cork, that floated on the surface in a
patch of shadow, "what does he know about it, what does he really know?
He's been reading history--that's what's the matter with him. He sees
things as they were, not as they are. He should have come to me, I could
have--" Just then the cork went under. The Doctor had a bite. "I could
have told him," repeated the fisherman softly, "I--" The cork bobbed up
again--it was only a nibble. "He'll find out the truth of course. He's
that kind. But when he finds it!" The cork bobbed again--"He'll need me,
he'll need me bad!" The cork went under for good this time. Zip--and the
Doctor had a big one!

With fresh bait and his hook once more well down toward the bottom the
Doctor saw the whole thing clearly, and so planned a way by which, as he
put it, he might, when Dan needed him, "_stand by_."




CHAPTER III.

A GREAT DAY IN CORINTH

"'Talk of the responsibilities of age; humph! They are nothing compared