" McClintock whistled. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. " "And you whipped the beast? I passed him. The fever came. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. “Freedom! Citizenship! And the way to that—the way to everything—is the Vote. Don’t be afraid that I shall stunt it. And every day's experience proves that I was right.
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